But what if it isn’t? What if he didn’t knowingly break the rule? Or what if he hadn’t been given a warning? Or what if he was forced to—

“I think . . .” I start, but my voice catches in my throat.

Griffin pulls us to a stop, tugs me into his arms, and just holds me. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t press me to say anything. Just comforts me until I get my emotions under control.

“I think,” I finally say around the knot in my throat, “I’m afraid to find out that he was given a choice. That the gods asked him to choose between football and—”

More tears.

Griffin rubs my back in rhythmic circles.

“What if he was forced to pick football or us?” I choke out. “And he picked football?”

“Shhh.” Griffin hugs me close, smoothing his hand over my hair and trying to calm me.

“I just . . .” I stammer between sniffs. “I just don’t think I could stand it if I found out he’d been given the choice, and hadn’t chosen us.”

“Listen to me,” Griffin says against my ear. “There is nothing that says you have to read the record. Ever.”

Damian said pretty much the same thing. But I feel like I should want to know. Like it shouldn’t matter what I find, I should want the truth.

“Part of me wants to know. Either way. Whatever the record says, knowing is better than not knowing.” My voice is muffled against Griffin’s chest. “But part of me is afraid.” I bite my lip. “Afraid I’ll lose the memory of him. That it will be forever changed because I’ll always know that I—that I wasn’t as important to him as football.”

“You know that isn’t—”

“No, I don’t,” I say, my voice tinged with desperation. “He might have made a conscious decision to use his powers in football—that would be bad enough. But what if he didn’t knowingly use them? That would be a million times worse.”

“I don’t see why you—”

“Because that would mean deep down in his soul, football came first.”

And what if, deep down in my soul, running comes first? If my dad couldn’t help breaking the rules to win, then I might do the same thing. I might wind up with the same fate.

I can’t say that out loud. It’s too . . . possible.

Griffin squeezes me tighter, like he can sense my thoughts. Or at least my emotions. Psychospection is a welcome power at times like this. I let my tears soak into his shirt. I think we both realize that nothing he could say would make this any better.

Because all I can think is What if I have to spend the rest of my life in fear of crossing that invisible line? That’s the scariest thing of all.

CHAPTER 12

CORPOPROMOTION

SOURCE: HERMES

The ability to use the body to its fullest extent. This power may manifest as superior stamina, extraordinary healing ability, and athletic talent. Can, depending on the hematheos heritage, result in superior physical grace, rhythm, and affinity for dance. Descendants of Hephaestus lack this power entirely.

DYNAMOTHEOS STUDY GUIDE © Stella Petrolas

“PHOEBE, WAKE UP.” A voice penetrates my dream. Then the owner of the voice shakes me awake. “Dad and Valerie will be home in a few hours and you’re going to be late for camp. Get up.”

I try burrowing under the comforter, hoping Stella will take the hint and go away. Not that she’s ever been one to take hints.

“Don’t make me get the ice water,” she warns.

I grunt in response.

I want to get back to my dream—in which I not only win the Pythian trials tomorrow, but also the Pythian Games and the Olympics . . . but all while running underwater. I know, dreams never make sense.

Besides, Stella wouldn’t really—

“I warned you,” she says, a split second before my comforter is jerked away and a splash of freezing water hits my forehead.

Bolting up, I shout, “Are you insane?” Wiping at the water before it can trickle down to my neck and other sensitive areas, I give her my best you’d-better-run glare. “You can give a person a heart attack doing that.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” She holds the still-half-full glass over me. “Now get out of bed before I dump the rest on you.”

She disappears before I can even begin to think of ways to murder her and hide the body.

Well, I’m fully awake now—my dream is out of reach—so I swing myself out of bed. It wasn’t the ice water that jolted me awake so much as the reminder that Mom and Damian are getting home today.

Though I could be relieved that Damian is about to be home and can help me train, I’m terrified. Even though he said it could happen at any time, I felt pretty certain the gods wouldn’t spring the test on me while Damian was off the island. With his return comes the looming reminder that I’m going to be tested, and soon. Summer solstice is only days away.

As I splash water on my face, my stomach is full of butterflies. What kind of test will it be? Will I be able to figure out it’s the test before I fail miserably? And what really will happen if I fail? I’m picturing me chained to a boulder while a giant eagle pecks out my liver when Stella opens the bathroom door.

“You’re not even dressed,” she points out.

Not willing to dignify her statement by turning around, I give her reflection a look that says, Duh.

“Hurry up already,” she says, giving me the speed-it-up gesture. “I don’t want to be late today.”