LostPhoebe: no

LostPhoebe: he was kinda busy holding me

PrincessCesca: are you sure he was going to kiss you?

LostPhoebe: for the millionth time… yes!

PrincessCesca: you’re in trouble

LostPhoebe: tell me about it

PrincessCesca: ES will kill you if you catch him before she can ES is our shorthand for Evil Stepsister. AKA Stella.


After Griffin dropped me-and I found out that Nicole’s ankle zap had worn off and I could walk just fine-I had endured Stella’s inquisition about the whole thing.

As soon as she was satisfied, I ran to my room-to the new laptop and Internet connection that will be my salvation for these next few months-and called up Cesca on IM.


LostPhoebe: she won’t find out

PrincessCesca: it’s a small island

LostPhoebe: Justinian never found out they’d moved the school

PrincessCesca: what?


Oops. Not supposed to let that cat out of the bag. Well, at least I didn’t say who had moved the school. That would be worse.


LostPhoebe: just some junk about school history

LostPhoebe: we had a pep assembly on Friday

LostPhoebe: they’re big on tradition here


The cursor blinks at me for a long time. I can practically hear Cesca thinking from thousands of miles away. Great. If anyone can uncover the big secret, Cesca can. She’s the one who knew Justin was cheating on me weeks before the rest of the school found out.


PrincessCesca: yeah, Europeans are all serious about history

LostPhoebe: you’re not kidding

LostPhoebe: one of my teachers wears a toga to class

PrincessCesca: talk about your fashion faux pas


Another IM conversation pops up.


NaughtyNic: how’s your ankle

LostPhoebe: fine, no thanks to you

NaughtyNic: you were going to back out

LostPhoebe: that didn’t mean you had to

PrincessCesca: you still there?

LostPhoebe: yes

LostPhoebe: zap my ankle

NaughtyNic: what’s the harm?

NaughtyNic: it didn’t hurt

LostPhoebe: no, but

PrincessCesca: you’re talking to someone else, aren’t you?

LostPhoebe: of course not

LostPhoebe: you’re not talking either

LostPhoebe: I could have hurt myself falling

NaughtyNic: but you didn’t

NaughtyNic: it all worked out in the end

LostPhoebe: how would you know?

NaughtyNic: I saw him carry you home

PrincessCesca: if you’re going to ignore me I’m leaving

LostPhoebe: don’t go

PrincessCesca: then tell me who you’re talking to

LostPhoebe: a friend from school

LostPhoebe: she has a question about homework


I feel horrible lying to Cesca, but it’s easier than answering questions. Most of them aren’t even questions I’m allowed to answer.


LostPhoebe: him carrying me home doesn’t mean anything

NaughtyNic: what happened?

LostPhoebe: he almost kissed me

NaughtyNic: oh my gods!

NaughtyNic: why didn’t he?

LostPhoebe: Stella interrupted

PrincessCesca: Phoebe?

NaughtyNic: did she freak out?

LostPhoebe: hold on a sec

PrincessCesca: fine

NaughtyNic: see!!! it all worked out in the end

NaughtyNic: I zapped you for a good cause

LostPhoebe: I don’t care if he wound up groveling at my feet

LostPhoebe: that’s no excuse to use your supernatural powers on me!


Blink, blink, blink.


NaughtyNic: are you there?


Blink, blink, blink.


NaughtyNic: Phoebe?


I glance back and forth at the two IM windows. Back and forth.

Cesca and Nicole. L.A. and Serfopoula.

My heart starts racing.


PrincessCesca: supernatural powers?


Crap!


LostPhoebe: have to go

NaughtyNic: something wrong

LostPhoebe: no, of course not

LostPhoebe: just have to go

LostPhoebe: now

LostPhoebe: bye


I quickly close the conversation with Nicole without waiting for her to reply. I am in so much crap it’s not even funny.


PrincessCesca: Phoebe, what’s going on?


Quick, think of a plausible explanation.


LostPhoebe: we’re doing this fantasy role-playing game

LostPhoebe: every character has special powers

LostPhoebe: they can use them against other characters

LostPhoebe: she used hers against me

LostPhoebe: in the game


Great, now I’m babbling in IM.

Cesca’s going to know something’s up. In her wildest dreams she wouldn’t guess exactly what, but Cesca’s like a bulldog-she doesn’t let go of something until she’s ready.


PrincessCesca: you hate computer games


LostPhoebe: um, not anymore

PrincessCesca: stop lying to me

LostPhoebe: I’m not

PrincessCesca: what’s really going on

PrincessCesca: what aren’t you telling me?

LostPhoebe: Cesca, I


Tears fill my eyes as I tell my best friend since kindergarten-the girl I’ve shared every deep, dark secret I’ve ever had with-that I can’t tell her this.


LostPhoebe: I can’t

LostPhoebe: I’m sorry

PrincessCesca: fine


I wait for her to say something more, to ask why or to make me tell her. But the stupid cursor just blinks at me. After staring at the unmoving conversation for fifteen minutes I accept the fact that she’s gone.

Add one more thing to the list of stuff moving to this stupid island has ruined for me.


“To build a stronger team dynamic,” Coach Z says to everyone gathered in the weight room, “we are going to partner you across events for strength training today.”

Oh no. This can only end in pain.

Christopher, the big blond who volunteered to be my training partner, is the only person on the team who seems even inclined to be nice-Griffin hasn’t so much as spoken to me since Sunday-so pairing me with anyone else is going to be a nightmare.

Coach Z starts going through the roster, pairing up throwers with hurdlers, jumpers with sprinters, mixing everything up.

“Phoebe Castro,” he says, tracing his finger across the page on his clipboard, “and Adara Spencer.”

My shoulders slump. Of all the people I could be paired with, this is the worst. Even spending the hour-long session in silence with Griffin-who got paired with Vesna Gorgopoulo, a discus thrower who makes the Rock look like a weakling-would be infinitely better.

I glance at Adara, standing in the center of her group of blondes.

She is positively fuming. While she stalks over to Coach Z-presumably to demand a different partner-her blondes glare at me.

The only one I know by name is Zoe. She’s in my World History class and spends all her time flirting with Mr. Sakola. I used to think she was harmless, but the look she’s giving me right now could sear a steak.

Adara stomps back to her group, the angry look on her face a clear indication that Coach Z refused to bow down to her wishes.

If they weren’t my wishes, too, at the moment, then I’d enjoy her defeat.

“Everyone select a machine to start on,” Coach Z explains. “When you hear one whistle switch with your partner, when you hear two rotate stations.”

While everyone moves to a machine, Adara and I stand glaring at each other.

“Get moving, girls,” Coach Z shouts. “You start on the bench.”

He points to the bench press in the far corner of the weight room, the only station not taken. Deciding that my training is more important than my animosity, I turn and head for the machine.

I’m just settling in on the bench when Adara joins me.

The first whistle blows and I reach up to take the bar.

“Well, well,” Adara says, making no move to spot me. “If it isn’t the happy home-wrecker.”

Ignoring her, I lift the bar off the brackets and start counting.

One. Two.

“Don’t think you can just steal my boyfriend without consequences, kako.”

“I didn’t-” Six. “Steal-” Seven. “Anything.”

“What?” She peers down at me. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear about what happened on Saturday?”

“I don’t-” Twelve. “Really-” Thirteen. “Care.”

“It was quite funny, actually,” she says, her voice mocking. “Griffin could hardly stop laughing long enough to tell me.”

“What?” I let the bar clatter back into place on the brackets.

Sitting up, I look around the room, finding Griffin and Vesna at the lateral pull station. He is watching Vesna pull like three hundred pounds. For a second he turns and glances at me, but then quickly looks away.

Then again, he might have been looking at Adara.

“Castro,” Coach Z shouts, “you’re still on the-”

Coach Lenny blows the whistle, then winks at me, ignoring the scowl Coach Z throws his way.

I climb off the bench and move behind the bar.

“What exactly did he tell you?” I ask, furious.

“Everything, of course.”

We continue in silence, Adara doing bench presses and me thinking of how many ways I could destroy Griffin without getting caught, until Coach Lenny blows the whistle twice and we change stations. Up next on our circuit is the butterfly press. This allows Adara to stand facing me-and blocking my view-the whole time.