“Stella,” Xander says as he climbs to his feet. After a quick nod, he strides off through the Academy’s golden doors.

She watches him walk away with a sad, puppy-dog look in her eyes.

I must be feeling generous or something, because I say, “You should ask him out already.”

“What do you mean?” Startled, she looks at me. “What makes you think I’m interested in Xander?”

“Puh-lease,” I say, pushing up from the cold marble. “Don’t play innocent with me. I learned your tricks months ago.”

She purses out her lips, like she wants to refute my claim. Then her gray eyes flick to the door Xander just walked through and her whole face softens.

“Do you—” Stella has never looked this vulnerable before. “Do you really think he might . . .”

“You never know until you try.”

For several long seconds she watches me, evaluating me. Then she turns on her heel and hurries after him.

As soon as she’s gone, I’m thinking about what Xander said. And wondering if he’s right. Either way, I need to sort out my feelings.

What if I am just making assumptions about Griffin? What if I’m making a big huge deal out of what he’s doing with Adara, when there’s really a totally innocent explanation? But if there were, he would have told me. When he told me there was nothing romantic going on between him and Adara, he would have told me what was going on. Wouldn’t he?

An image of Cesca flashes in my mind. A memory of last year, when I had a secret of my own that I couldn’t tell my best friends.

What if it’s something like that?

My head is going to spin off my neck if I keep going in circles like this.

“Hi, Phoebe!” Tansy bounds up the steps.

“Hey, Tansy,” I reply, still a little distracted by my thoughts, but relieved to have someone nonconfusing to talk to. “What’s up?”

“Ready for camp,” she says. “Actually, I wanted to ask you a question.”

Shaking off my thoughts of secrets, I say, “Shoot.”

“How do you become a runner?”

I look at her and smile. “I don’t think a person becomes a runner,” I say. “You either run or you don’t.”

She bites her lower lip, like she’s worried about what to say next.

“Do you run?” I ask.

Green eyes wide, she looks up at me and nods. Even though she’s only twelve—not fully developed physically or anything—I can tell she’s got the body of a runner. Long proportions, a little gawky. If she’s got the drive, she could be an excellent runner.

I smile big. “Then you’re a runner.”

As soon as I say that, she positively beams. “I want to be just like you.”

“No you don’t,” I reply. No one wants to be like me. Not on this island, anyway. At first it was because I wasn’t one of them. Now it’s because I am, but I’m still different. Higher up on the family tree. Closer to Olympus. Life was so much easier when I was nothing more exciting than a distance runner. “I’m not that great.”

“I think you are.”

Her voice is quiet and serious, like she just said the most important thing ever.

I study her, looking at me with a little hero worship in her eyes. It’s been so long since someone—anyone—looked up to me that I almost don’t know how to react. Back at Pacific Park, I’d been kind of a mentor to a couple of the younger girls on the team. They looked to me for advice and encouragement. That feels like a lifetime ago.

As I look into Tansy’s serious eyes, my long-lost big sister instinct kicks in.

“I’m kinda looking for a training partner,” I say as we head into the building. “You interested?”

“Really?” she says, her voice full of awe.

Since the position of my current training partner seems to be in question, then yeah, I wouldn’t mind having someone else to run with. She might keep my mind off all the times Griffin and I ran together.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to play it cool so she doesn’t think I’m desperate. “I’m training for the Pythian Games trials and could use a buddy.”

We head through the halls of the Academy, toward the courtyard, with her staring wide-eyed and mouth gaping. It’s a miracle she doesn’t walk into a trash can.

“Is that a yes?”

“Omigods, yes!” she squeals. “When do we start?”

“I’ve been training in the morning.” I push through the door leading to the courtyard. “Why don’t you meet me at eight tomorrow on the cross-country course.”

Tansy gasps. “Great!”

“Welcome, campers,” Adara calls across the courtyard. She spears me with a vicious glance. “We’ll be partnering for today’s first exercise. Phoebe, you’ll be pairing up with me.”

Yeah, great.

“You’re not even trying.”

I glare at Adara. “Of course I’m trying.”

I’m just not succeeding.

“I know how hard it is for you to accept that other people might know something more than you,” she snaps, and if I could see her face I know she’d be sneering. “But believe me when I tell you, you’re not trying.”

We’ve been standing back-to-back for the last half hour, with me trying to materialize a hazelnut latte into her hands. So far I’ve come up with a coconut, a jar of peanut butter, and—on my most successful attempt—a glass of milk.