Tera Childs - Oh. My. Gods.

But I can feel myself weakening.

Like I’m using the very last of my energy reserves and am not going to have anything left for a strong finish. In fact, I might not have anything left at all.

Suddenly, Jackie moves ahead three paces.

No, she doesn’t move ahead. I drop back.

I’m fading.

Crap! I’ve worked too hard the last three weeks-my entire life to lose now. All those extra hours and lack of sleep weren’t in vain.

I won’t let it be for nothing.

And I’m not letting four miles worth of thir-ty-sev-ens go to waste.

Digging deeper than I’ve ever dug before, I scrape up the last shreds of my energy from the furthest reaches of my soul and-just as I pass the four-and-a-half-mile mark-step up my pace a notch. I close in two paces.

I feel myself burst through the wall, demolishing it with a mental sledgehammer. Energy-or adrenaline or endorphins-flows through me and all my pain fades away.

My leg muscles tighten for a second to let me know they’re back in action. I feel my feet pound the dirt path. My lungs fill with oxygen and I’m not racked with crippling pain anymore. It’s like I’m just starting the race instead of almost finishing.

I’ve pushed through the wall before, but it’s never felt like this.

Like I’m racing fresh. Fully recovered.

We pass the four-and-three-quarter-mile mark.

I close in another pace.

Only one pace separates me from victory.

I can see the finish line-and the small sea of people waiting-in the distance. It’s a straightaway from here.

The onlookers catch sight of Jackie and send up a cheer.

Spurred on, I close in another pace. We’re neck-and-neck. For the first time in the entire race, she glances to the side. I grin at the shocked look on her face-until she speeds up and I have to match her pace to catch her.

The finish line is closing in, so I turn up the fire and try to take the lead. Jackie keeps my pace easily. I give it more. So does Jackie.

I can’t get ahead.

I take a deep breath and-for a split-second-close my eyes. I think of my dad, wanting to win this race, like every other one, for him.

When I open my eyes I’m ahead.

I don’t look to see where Jackie is. I’m ahead and I’m not going to lose the lead.

Thinking of Dad, I put every ounce of my being into closing the last hundred yards. I see everyone cheering for me-Coach Lenny, Mom, Damian, Stella (yes, even Stella), Troy, Griffin, Nicole, and Oh my god!

Nola and Cesca are standing at the finish line.

A bright glow surrounds me as I pound the dirt. Something’s not right, but my mind is mush and all I can think about is getting to the finish line-first-before collapsing. My best friends and my new friends are all there waiting for me and I have to get there or die trying.

Then, all of a sudden, I’m across the line.

The crowd around me is cheering.

Everyone rushes me, surrounding me, hugging me. I struggle to breathe and remain upright. The endorphins are failing me now.

The last thing I remember before collapsing is Troy’s smiling face and that’s when I know. I didn’t win this race without help.

Which means I didn’t win at all.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE you guys are here,” I repeat for, like, the millionth time, as we walk back across campus. After my race, we had stayed to watch the boys run. Griffin won by nearly two minutes and, even though he was a sweaty mess when he met Nola and Cesca, they were suitably impressed. It feels so good to have my girls at my side.

“We thought you needed a little…” Cesca grins. “… extra support.”

Nola hugs me. Again.

“Damian and I made the arrangements with their parents,” Mom says. “They have to return on the ferry tomorrow, so they don’t miss any more days of school.”

“Only one day,” I cry. It’s not enough. But it’s way better than nothing.

Damian walks up next to me. “We also thought it might be easier for you to… explain your situation in person.”

“Explain my-” I stop cold. Is Damian saying what I think he’s saying? “You mean?”

He nods.

I’m floored by how much trust he just put in me. He doesn’t know Nola and Cesca from anyone, but he trusts me enough to trust them.

“Thanks,” I say. Then, I can’t help it, I fling my arms around him and give him a big hug.

“You are more than welcome,” he says in his typical, formal voice.

But there is a warmth in there that I never noticed before.

I can’t believe he’s really letting me tell Nola and Cesca about the school, the island, everything.

Now, all I have to do is figure out how to tell them.

“First, however,” he says in full on principal mode, “we need to have a discussion.”

Right. I knew this trust thing was too good to be true. My shoulders slump. I glance ahead at Mom and the girls who are getting ahead of us.

“Phoebe,” he says, laying a hand on my shoulder, “this has nothing to do with your friends.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “All right.”

“Why don’t we go to the school and your friends can look around while we talk?”

I nod, sensing that what he wants to tell me is a pretty big deal.

Considering all the major life-flipping news I’ve gotten lately, I’m a little nervous about what more he could possibly have to talk to me about. Maybe he knows that Troy cheated to help me win.

“Hey girls,” I shout, running to catch up with them. “Wanna see my new school?”

We detour across the central lawn toward the front steps.

“Pacific Park hasn’t been the same without you,” Cesca says.

“Did she tell you what she did to Justin?” Nola asks.

“No,” I say, grinning at my girls. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” Cesca says with a wink. “Really.”

Nola rolls her eyes at the understatement. “She pantsed him in front of the whole school at the homecoming assembly.”

I’m so not surprised. Cesca is not the sort of person whose bad side you want to be on. She’s vindictive as-well, as Stella, I guess.

I never really noticed it before, but Cesca can be a real bi’atch to people who cross her. Or who cross her friends. If I were on the other side of her anger I might feel the same way about her as I do about Stella.

And if I were on the other side of Stella’s anger, I might feel the same for her that I do for Cesca.

Huh. Stella as my best friend. Not likely. But still, I feel like maybe I understand where she’s coming from a little better.

“Suffice it to say I think he’ll have a hard time finding a date anytime soon.” Cesca checks her nails likes it’s no big deal. “Power Rangers boxers aren’t exactly en vogue right now.”

I laugh at the thought of Justin exposed to the entire student body.

“How old is this school, anyway?” Cesca asks, staring up at the massive templelike facade of the Academy. “This building looks ancient.”

“It is,” I say. “It’s fifteen hundred years old.”

“Holy hot tamale,” Cesca gasps.

“They have excellent landscaping,” Nola says. “I can’t believe the grass is so healthy in such an arid climate.”

“Yeah, well…” I glance back over my shoulder at Mom and Damian, following us across the lawn. “There’s a very good reason for that.”

“Phoebe!”

I spin around, looking up to see Troy standing at the top of the steps. He’s grinning like a crazy person. Maybe he is.

“You!” I shout.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, standing with his fists on his hips.

“You took off so fast I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you.”

I turn to the girls. “Give me a minute?”

“Sure,” Cesca says.

Nola nods. “No problem.”

Leaving them at the base of the steps, I stomp up to meet Troy.

“I can’t imagine why I’d want to get away quickly, can you?”

“What?” He looks genuinely confused. “You’re not making any sense.”

“What? What!” I jab my finger into his chest. “After what you did, you have the nerve to ask what?”

“What I did? What are you talking about?”

“I know what your ‘good luck charm’ did, Troy.” I cross my arms across my chest. “I saw the glow.”

“The glow?” He frowns. “I saw it too, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Look, I know you were just trying to help. But cheating is cheating. You humiliated me. I can’t even face the team, let alone look at myself in the mirror.”

“Cheating? You cheated?” He shakes his head, as if he doesn’t understand. “You’re not making any sense.”

In all my years of running I’ve never cheated. When other racers were trying anabolic steroids, synthetic hormones, and amphetamines I just trained harder. I focused on perfecting my technique, improving my endurance, and obsessing about my nutrition.

Now, after all those years of hard work and integrity, in just one race on this island, I’m a cheater. Someone-and I have a pretty good idea who that powers-charmed-bracelet-giving someone isused godly powers to help me win. I won a race that I didn’t deserve to win.

Winning by cheating isn’t winning at all.

“ I didn’t cheat,” I say, barely keeping my volume under control because I am so irritated that he keeps playing dumb, “but it feels like I did. When you gave me your powers, I-”

“Whoa!” He jumps back, waving his hands in front of his chest defensively. “When I gave you my powers? I couldn’t even do that if I wanted to.”

Holding up my hand, I pluck at the friendship bracelet. “Then what do you call this?”