Per Pythian Games rules, Coach Lenny can’t actually train us until after the trials, but he helped me develop this training strategy. If we don’t make the cut, he’s promised to make our lives miserable when cross-country season starts up in the fall.

“Sounds good.”

I’m glad Griffin and I are going through this together. Even though I’ve been running all my life, the idea of actually racing those 26.2 miles is a little scary. That’s like running a race from downtown L.A. to Malibu. It feels less intimidating knowing he’s by my side.

“Wanna stop by the bakery on our way back?” he asks. “Aunt Lili made some loukoumades she wants you to try.”

“Mmm,” I say, my mouth watering at the thought of the decadent little doughnut balls. “I think your aunt is trying to fatten me up.”

Griffin’s aunt is a descendant of Hestia and, true to her goddess-of-the-hearth heritage, operates an amazing bakery in the village. She makes more varieties of bread every day than most people have ever even heard of. Walking into the store is like walking into a fresh-baked dream.

Lately I’ve been her favorite taste tester.

“She’s just relieved that you eat,” he explains. “Adara wouldn’t even go near the bakery in case the carbs could seep into her body by osmosis or something.”

I fall silent.

Adara is still a dangerous subject. Not only has she not forgiven me for “stealing” her boyfriend—go figure—but Griffin is still friends with her. I’m not jealous or anything, I just don’t understand how he can actually like her. She’s never been anything but an evil harpy to me.

Griffin, clearly unaware of my mood swing, says, “Aunt Lili is excited that our nutrition plan requires lots of carbs. She thinks that means we’ll be in there to taste-test every day.”

“Hmm,” I grunt noncommittally.

“I didn’t have the heart to tell her we need complex carbs, like pasta and potatoes.” He sounds completely unconcerned by my silence. “Breads, maybe. If she uses whole grains. But sugars and sweets are not exactly ideal training fuel.”

When Coach Lenny asked us to try out for the Pythian Games, we agreed to divide up the training prep work. I’m in charge of physical training sessions—running, weight training, stuff like that. Griffin is in charge of our nutritional program. Which is probably a good thing, because I have a major weakness for things like Aunt Lili’s treats, the occasional Twinkie shared with Nicole, and—the worst weakness of all—ice cream. I’d eat ice cream at every meal if I could.

It’s definitely a good thing Griffin’s the diet dictator.

More silence as we both fall into a contented run.

My mind drifts back to the Adara comment. I realize I’m being hypersensitive about the whole ex-girlfriend thing. I mean, I’m not jealous. Really. He’s totally, one hundred percent into me. And the fact that he’s still friends with his on-again-off-again girlfriend of like five years is not completely surprising. They have a history.

That doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“You’ll pass the test,” Griffin says as we get within sight of the village.

I sigh. It’s better to let him think I’m stressing about the test than confess that I’m really dwelling on his relationship with his ex.

“I know,” I say, trying to sound convincing.

“I mean it,” he says, slowing our pace to a light jog. “If anyone can learn to control insanely strong powers in the next two weeks, you can. You can do anything.”

I love that he’s my strongest supporter, my own personal Phoebe cheerleader. He sounds totally certain that I’ll succeed . . . but I’m not.

“Listen,” he says, pulling me to a stop as we reach the outer edge of the village. “Think about how much you’ve accomplished in the last few months. A weaker girl would have collapsed under the pressure of starting over at a new school populated with descendants of the gods. Not you. You thrived and proved to every last one of us that you deserve to be here. And you do.”

His blue eyes are practically glowing with sincerity. My own feel a little damp. My only pre-Griffin experience with a boyfriend was jerky Justin Mars—a total sleaze who treated me like dirt and dumped me for an easy squeeze when I wouldn’t put out. Having a boyfriend so fully and totally supportive is an experience I’m still getting used to.

“All you have to do is take all the energy you focused on winning that race last fall”—he reaches up and wipes at the tear that escaped down my cheek—“and focus it on controlling your powers. No problem.”

I give him a watery smile. I am so not a girl who cries. And it’s not what he’s saying that makes me weepy, but the way he’s saying it. Like he believes I’m capable of conquering the world. He believes in me. Unconditionally.

My heart thuds. I’ve never felt more supported, more confident, more—his eyes glance over my shoulder and focus on something behind me—forgotten?

“Hey, Adara,” he says, smiling. “We were just heading for the bakery. Wanna come?”

I turn just in time to see her scoff.

“No. Thanks.” Her vapid blue eyes rake over me in an especially-not-if- she’s-here way. “I’m meeting Stella at the bookstore. We have plans to discuss.”

“No problem,” Griffin says.

As much as I can’t stand Adara, I can’t stand the way she just shot Griffin down even more. He’s nothing but nice to her and does not deserve to be dismissed like that.