Read Online Goddess Boot Camp by Tera Lynn Childs - Free Book Online
Authors: Tera Lynn Childs
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I can tell she’s annoyed. Maybe because Miss Orivas separated her from Xander even farther, or maybe because Miss Orivas seems kind of nutty. Or maybe Stella’s cheerful veneer is finally wearing off—I knew it couldn’t last. In any case, she smiles at Gillian, and says, “Continue.”
The rest of the ten-year-olds introduce themselves in that painful, first-day-of-class way. Like you’re crazy nervous because you know everyone in the circle is staring at you . That was always my least favorite part of back-to-school.
When the last ten-year-old finishes, everyone’s eyes turn on me.
I blank.
“Phoebe . . .” Stella leans into the circle and gives me a fake encouraging look. I know it’s fake, because she looks totally innocent—and I know she’s not totally innocent.
“Um, hi,” I say, brilliantly. I’ve never been big on public speaking, even if the public in question is just a small group of ten-year-olds. But if everyone else can do it, so can I. “I’m Phoebe Castro. I just moved here last year. Actually, I just found out about this whole hematheos world last year. And then I found out that I’m a descendant of Nike—which totally makes sense, because I’m a runner and I love to win. But that’s a whole other story.”
I know I’m babbling.
I know I’m facing a whole circle of blank stares.
I know I should stop.
“Ever since I found out,” I continue, “I’ve had an awful time controlling my powers. I mean, it’s like they have a life of their own. They do things all the time without my even meaning to and now the gods are making me take some stupid test, so I really need to get my act together—”
“Your powers act independent of conscious effort?” Miss Orivas asks.
“Uh-huh.” I nod.
“Huh.” She sounds surprised. “How does it happen?”
If I knew, I would do something about it. And I wouldn’t be sitting in an icebreaker circle with a bunch of ten-year-olds, facing two weeks of torment by my least favorite person on this island, desperately hoping I can learn some measure of control when all I really want to do is train for the Pythian Games.
I must look as sarcastic as I feel, because she adds, “What are the circumstances?”
Oh, that.
“All different circumstances,” I explain. “I mean, it happens at home, at school, and in the village. Sometimes it happens when I’m trying to do something, but my mind wanders. Sometimes it happens when I’m just thinking. I don’t know why any more than I can figure out how to make it stop.”
“Fascinating,” Miss Orivas mutters, and starts scribbling on her notepad.
“Most students struggle to manifest their powers,” Stella says, as if I need explanation. I do, but I won’t tell her that. “You have the opposite problem.”
Great, glad I could be a case study or whatever.
“The fact that you are a third generation,” Adara chimes in, “means they are stronger than most. You’re lucky we only had to evacuate the school once.”
My cheeks erupt in flames.
“You’re the one?” one of the girls on the opposite side of the circle gasps. I think her name is Tessa or Teresa or something.
“The one what?” I ask nervously, though I know what she’s about to say.
She leans forward, stage-whispering across the circle. “The one who neofactured lions during the pep rally.”
I’m too mortified to respond. No one was ever supposed to know that was me. I was only trying to show school spirit (go, Nemean Lions!). My mouth just kind of drops open, like if it hangs there long enough something will come out.
All the girls in the circle stare, their eyes glowing with fear and awe.
As if I need another reason for kids at the Academy to think I’m different.
“Okay, then,” Adara says, saving me—unintentionally, I’m sure, since she’s the one who dropped the bomb—from continued embarrassment, “time for the counselor introductions. I’ll go first.” She tilts her head to the side and smiles.
The rest of the ten-year-olds introduce themselves in that painful, first-day-of-class way. Like you’re crazy nervous because you know everyone in the circle is staring at you . That was always my least favorite part of back-to-school.
When the last ten-year-old finishes, everyone’s eyes turn on me.
I blank.
“Phoebe . . .” Stella leans into the circle and gives me a fake encouraging look. I know it’s fake, because she looks totally innocent—and I know she’s not totally innocent.
“Um, hi,” I say, brilliantly. I’ve never been big on public speaking, even if the public in question is just a small group of ten-year-olds. But if everyone else can do it, so can I. “I’m Phoebe Castro. I just moved here last year. Actually, I just found out about this whole hematheos world last year. And then I found out that I’m a descendant of Nike—which totally makes sense, because I’m a runner and I love to win. But that’s a whole other story.”
I know I’m babbling.
I know I’m facing a whole circle of blank stares.
I know I should stop.
“Ever since I found out,” I continue, “I’ve had an awful time controlling my powers. I mean, it’s like they have a life of their own. They do things all the time without my even meaning to and now the gods are making me take some stupid test, so I really need to get my act together—”
“Your powers act independent of conscious effort?” Miss Orivas asks.
“Uh-huh.” I nod.
“Huh.” She sounds surprised. “How does it happen?”
If I knew, I would do something about it. And I wouldn’t be sitting in an icebreaker circle with a bunch of ten-year-olds, facing two weeks of torment by my least favorite person on this island, desperately hoping I can learn some measure of control when all I really want to do is train for the Pythian Games.
I must look as sarcastic as I feel, because she adds, “What are the circumstances?”
Oh, that.
“All different circumstances,” I explain. “I mean, it happens at home, at school, and in the village. Sometimes it happens when I’m trying to do something, but my mind wanders. Sometimes it happens when I’m just thinking. I don’t know why any more than I can figure out how to make it stop.”
“Fascinating,” Miss Orivas mutters, and starts scribbling on her notepad.
“Most students struggle to manifest their powers,” Stella says, as if I need explanation. I do, but I won’t tell her that. “You have the opposite problem.”
Great, glad I could be a case study or whatever.
“The fact that you are a third generation,” Adara chimes in, “means they are stronger than most. You’re lucky we only had to evacuate the school once.”
My cheeks erupt in flames.
“You’re the one?” one of the girls on the opposite side of the circle gasps. I think her name is Tessa or Teresa or something.
“The one what?” I ask nervously, though I know what she’s about to say.
She leans forward, stage-whispering across the circle. “The one who neofactured lions during the pep rally.”
I’m too mortified to respond. No one was ever supposed to know that was me. I was only trying to show school spirit (go, Nemean Lions!). My mouth just kind of drops open, like if it hangs there long enough something will come out.
All the girls in the circle stare, their eyes glowing with fear and awe.
As if I need another reason for kids at the Academy to think I’m different.
“Okay, then,” Adara says, saving me—unintentionally, I’m sure, since she’s the one who dropped the bomb—from continued embarrassment, “time for the counselor introductions. I’ll go first.” She tilts her head to the side and smiles.
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