“If the computer genius hasn’t figured it out,” I say, “you can walk me to the courtyard. But I’m going in alone.” When he starts to argue, I say, “I appreciate that you’re worried about me, but I won’t let anything jeopardize finding out the truth about my dad.”
I can tell he still wants to argue, but I can also tell that he gets how important this is to me. He nods. Reluctantly.
I just hope I’m not doing something stupid. Again.
When Nic and I walk out of the boys’ dorm, the sun is riding low in the sky. I check my watch. It’s six o’clock. If I’m quick, I can run home and grab some dinner before I have to meet Griffin at the dock.
As I step off the front stairs, about to say good-bye to Nicole, movement to my left catches my eyes.
Griffin.
I smile automatically and am about to call out to him when I realize something very important. It’s Griffin. Going into the girls’ dorm. And Adara is standing on the front step to greet him.
Suddenly I’m not so hungry anymore.
CHAPTER 8
AUTOPORTATION
SOURCE: ZEUS
The ability to move oneself to a different location through nonphysical means. Maximum distance traveled depends on strength and skill of powers. Autoportation to a previously unvisited place is prohibited because of the inherent risk of arriving in an undesirable, perilous, or public location.
DYNAMOTHEOS STUDY GUIDE © Stella Petrolas
WHEN THE LAST RAY of sunlight disappears, I’m planted on the couch reading last month’s Runner’s World. Well, I’m pretending to read last month’s Runner’s World. My eyes are skimming across the pages and everything, but my mind hasn’t taken in a single word. It’s too busy screaming, Griffin is back together with Adara!
Through some major act of willpower—or hopelessness—my eyes aren’t even full of tears.
I hear giggling seconds before the front door opens. “You are so right,” Stella says, looking over her shoulder as she walks in. “I’ll have to add that to my résumé.”
I don’t feel like facing Stella right now. Wishing I’d retreated to my room earlier, I bury my face in my magazine, hoping I can blend in with the unfortunately white couch. Why did the MY SPORT IS YOUR SPORT’S PUNISHMENT tee have to be cherry red?
“Phoebe,” a rebel-boy voice says in greeting.
I peek over the top of an article about avoiding knee injuries. The recipient of Stella’s giggling is none other than Xander. Great. All I need is him taunting me at home, too.
“I didn’t know you were home,” Stella says, looking like a kid caught sneaking an extra cookie. Yeah, a Xander-shaped cookie. Her two-shades-darker-than-her-hair eyebrows draw into a frown. “I thought you were meeting—”
“I’m not,” I interrupt. She knows exactly where I was supposed to be right now. I don’t need the reminder. I don’t even want to hear his name.
She looks surprised, but doesn’t comment. Smart girl. In my present mood, I’m itching to test my current powers control. She would make the perfect guinea pig. In fact—
“Xander and I were just talking about you actually,” she says, giving him a warm smile and distracting me before I actually try to turn her into a rodent. She is blissfully unaware of how close she came to becoming someone’s pet. “Discussing that exercise I was telling you about earlier.”
I glance at the object of her adoration. He’s standing just inside the door, like he’d rather keep out of the line of fire, with his hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. Watching me with those unusual lavender eyes, he doesn’t move a muscle. Like a statue. His face remains unreadable.
Typical guy. Keeps everything hidden so you have to guess what he’s thinking. So a girl’s imagination can run rampant until confronted with incontrovertible proof of her suspicions.
“Good for you.” I snap my magazine shut and get up from the couch. If they’re going to be here, giggling and talking about me, I’m locking myself in my room. Figuratively, of course, since my door doesn’t lock.
“Actually”—she glances at Xander—“we could try that exercise with the glass of water—”
“Not,” I say, my pent-up emotion barely contained, “tonight.”
I can practically hear her mouth drop.
She’ll get over it. Or not. Either way, playing counselor and camper is not on my agenda for the night. The last thing I want is to be around people. Solitude and the comfort of my bed are calling. That, and a box of tissues.
I’m almost to my room when I feel a hand clamp over my shoulder.
“Running away isn’t going to help,” Xander says.
“I’m not running away from anything.” I spin around, shrugging off his hand. “I’m going to my room for some privacy, thank you very much.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his brows, like he dares me to lie again. “Denying your feelings can affect your powers.”
“Oh yeah?” I snap brilliantly. “You don’t know anything about my feelings. Or my situation.”
“I know more than you think.” He steps closer, his voice barely a growl. “You mentioned my expulsion earlier. Do you know why I was expelled?”
I shake my head.
“Because three years ago,” he whispers, “I had to take the test.” His mouth is right next to my ear when he adds, “And I didn’t pass.”