I push the mirror away and instead grab one of Mom's perfumes. I love the shapes of all the bottles, but this one is my favorite. The bottle is this long teardrop shape with a gold neck and a crystal ball on top. Dad gave it to her the day before he died.

Pulling off the crystal ball, I spritz a little on my left wrist.

The heavy scent of orchid and plum fills the air around me. Taking a deep inhale, I'm immediately filled with memories of Dad. His smile. His wink. His dirt- and grass-stained football jersey. Him waving to us from the grass-green-perfect turf of Qualcomm Stadium.

It's amazing how a scent memory can make seven years ago feel like yesterday.

As I rub my wrists together. I ask. "Do you still miss him?"

In the vanity mirror I see Mom freeze.

I didn't mean to ask the question. We haven't talked about him since finding out he and I are descendants of Nike. Since finding out he died for football.

I should have kept my mouth shut. Talking about Griffin and Adara would be better than this edgy silence.

"Of course 1 miss him." Mom finally says, "Every minute of every day."

She walks up behind me and puts her hands on my shoulders.

"Just because he's gone doesn't mean he isn't still with us."

Her voice is so quiet and full of emotion I regret saying anything. She doesn't need me making her cry the day before her honeymoon. And I don't need another reason to cry today.

"I know." I force a bright smile. "Running makes me think of him."

That's one of the reasons I love running so much.

"He's with you all the time." She presses a kiss into the top of my head. "Not just when you run."


Great. More tears. Today has been a roller coaster, and I am so not used to being that girl. I've never felt as emotional as I do right now.

"I just- " My throat tightens, but I make myself say the words that have been churning inside for nine long months. The question I'm afraid to ask, but that just won't stay locked away anymore. "W-why did he do it?"

Her arms squeeze around my shoulders. I cover them with my own and squeeze back. For several long seconds we just hold each other, not moving, not saying a word. Like she's absorbing my pain, and I'm taking hers. We haven't shared such an intense moment since the day he died.

"I can't answer that, baby." Her voice sounds small and quiet and a little lost. "No one can."

Sometimes I forget Mom is going through this, too.

Great, now I feef like a selfish cow on top of everything else. The last thing Mom needs is my emotional mess the night before her honeymoon. She deserves her happiness with Damian.

I straighten up and pat Mom gently, signaling my return to my senses. She gives me one more squeeze before releasing me and turns back to her suitcases. I quickly wipe at the residual tears.

"So, are you all packed?" I ask, spinning on the stool.

She looks nervously at the bed. "I think so."

"Great," I say, hopping to my feet. "Let's zip these up so we can go eat Aunt Lili's loukoumades."

As we close up the suitcases I try to keep my mind from drifting back to Dad. Or Griffin. Or anything else that might call back the tear patrol. Between Griffin and Adara and Dad and the powers test, it's a wonder I can go five minutes without breaking down.

"All done." I say, pulling the last zipper tight.

Mom frowns. "Maybe I need another pair of sandals."

"You'll be fine." I promise. "Besides. If you take everything you need, how will you justify buying even more when you get there?"

"1 never thought of it that way." Mom looks at me, a huge smile on her face. "When did you get so devious?"

"Well. I have been hanging out with a bunch of gods." I say. "Maybe it's rubbing off."

"Come on," she says, giving me a teasing nudge toward the door. "Let's go see if we can sneak some ice cream past Hesper to go with the loukeumades."

"Uh-oh," I say, leading the way. "I think you're having delusional fantasies again."

She just laughs and follows me to the kitchen. The day we can sneak anythingpast Hesper is the day Dad knocks on the front door.

After being shooed out of the kitchen-not only without ice cream, but also without our loukoumades,which Hesper confiscated to serve with dessert (for a housekeeper, she's got skills that would make an army general proud)-Mom and I join Damian in the dining room.

"Phoebe," he says as I take my seat at the ancient table, "here is the information you need for tomorrow."

I take the pale blue paper from him. It looks like one of those back-to-school shopping lists you get from an office-supply store. What am I? In kindergarten? Do I need to be sure to bring crayons and safety scissors?

"What's tomorrow?" Mom asks.

"Goddess Boot Camp," I say absently, reading the introductory note.


Welcome campers!


Dynamotheos Development Camp (colloquially known as Goddess Boot Camp) is a life-changing experience that's also lots of fun. In the next two weeks, you will learn how to harness and control your powers and you will also bond with your fellowhematheos campers. We hope you will come away with not only a firm grip on your powers, but also firm friendships with the other girls.

"What is Goddess Boot Camp?" Mom asks.

"Dynamotheos Development Camp," Damian explains. "A training intensive for students who have not yet mastered control over their powers."

"And you think Phoebe needs this camp?"

Where has Mom been the last few months? I mean, I know she's been wrapped up in honeymoon planning and the idea of starting a part-time therapy practice in the village, but she can't have missed allof my powers-related disasters. Especially not the one that involved her bedroom turning into a Roman bath for a day and a half.

Next on the paper is a supplies checklist.


All campers will need to bring the following items:


comfortable athletic clothing

Not a problem since that's pretty much all I own.


spiral notebook

writing utensil (pen or pencil only, no markers or crayons)

positive attitude


I roll my eyes. A positive attitude?What is this, cheer camp? And what's up with the no-crayons thing? Is that really a problem? I don't think I've even seen a crayon since elementary school.

"Her control has not progressed as quickly as I'd hoped," Damian says. "I think she will benefit from the intense training of the camp."

"What do you think, Phoebola?" Mom asks.

I look up, startled. It's been so long since someone actually asked me my opinion on something that affects my own life that I'm not sure how to answer.

"Um…" I say, buying time to come up with a response. "I think Damian's right. I'm a danger to society. My lack of control pretty much sucks. Unless you like waking up to a bedroom snowstorm."

That taught me a lesson about wishing for air-conditioning. An island breeze through an open window will do just fine.

"That was certainly a chilly surprise." Mom says. "It wasn't dangerous, though. None of your… mishaps have caused lasting harm."

"Not yet," I agree. "But what about the next time? Or the time after that? Or the time after that? If I don't get my powers under control. there's always the chance someone might get hurt."

And I might get smoted for it.

"If you think that's what you need." Mom says, though she still looks worried. "I don't want you to spend the whole summer working. You need to have fun, too."

"I will," I promise. "I can focus on fun and the Pythian Games as soon as I pass the stupid test."

"What test?" She looks at Damian. "What test?"

Jeez, didn't Damian tell Mom anything about this? He can explain while I finish reading the flyer.


On tbe first day of camp we will meet in the Academy courtyard at 10a.m. Camp will dismiss at 4 p.m. Lunch will be provided. Extra-camp tutorials will be scheduled at counselor discretion for campers needing additional or personalized help. Counselors will wait witb campers needing to be picked up on the front steps.


Needing to be picked up? Some of the other campers must be pretty bad off if they can't even go home without an escort. I must not be in as bad shape as I thought.