Cesca’s mouth falls open. “Get out!”

“Omigod,” Nola gasps, her eyes bulging wide with shock.

For what feels like hours they stare at me. Great, I’m a freak show. How can I expect to go out into the real world again when even my best friends think I’m a total abnormality?

Finally, Cesca speaks. “Oh, honey,” she says, smiling. “We’ve always known you were a goddess. This just makes it legit.”

Have I mentioned how much I love my best friends? In a heartbeat, they’re both on their feet and we’re in a massive group hug, complete with tears of joy.

“But that’s the last secret, I promise,” I say when I recover the ability to speak. “You know absolutely everything else.”

I step back so I can wipe away my tears.

Cesca gets a weird look on her face as she turns to look at Nola. Nola looks just as strange. I recognize the looks. Guilt.

“Um, Phoebe,” Cesca begins.

I know something’s up because she sounds hesitant. Cesca is never hesitant.

“There’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you,” Nola says, having found her voice.

“What?” I’m getting scared, they are both acting strange.

Cesca clasps her hands together behind her back. “I know we’ve been planning on going to USC together since, like, forever.”

“But,” Nola says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, “sometimes plans change.”

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Well . . .” Cesca looks around me to Nola, then nods. “I’m not going to USC next year. Parsons accepted me early admission. If I want to go into couture fashion I can’t be in L.A.”

Parsons? That’s on the whole other side of the country. “You’re going to school in New York?”

She nods and looks apologetic.

I turn as Nola says, “And I’m going to Berkeley.” She reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “It has the best Environmental Sciences program in the country.”

I know they’re right—about studying fashion in New York and environmental science at Berkeley—but I feel like they’ve betrayed me. We’ve been planning this for years now, and all of a sudden they change their minds at the last minute. How is that fair?

But as I look at them—both looking totally guilty for going separate ways—I realize how selfish I’m being. How could I ask them to give up their futures just so we can go to school together?

“You know,” I say, putting my arms around them and pulling them back into a big hug, “I think this is great.”

They both look at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. But if I’ve learned anything from moving halfway around the world, it’s that a change of plans can be a good thing. Sometimes it can even be a great thing. Right now, I can’t imagine what my life would be like if Mom and I were still in L.A. No Greek gods. No Griffin. No Nicole and Troy. No learning that I’m part-goddess. All those things feel like a natural part of my life now. Who knows what the next set of changes might bring?

“We’re best friends, no matter how far apart we are,” I say. “Just because we have to go after life in different directions doesn’t mean we’re not still sisters on the inside.”

When Damian leaves to take Nola and Cesca back to Athens and their plane, Mom goes with him. I go running.

As I lace up my Nikes I stop and stare at that perfect little swish. For years it’s meant so much to me—a symbol of my running, my passion, and my connection to my dad. Now I know that all those things are part of me that can’t be contained by a scrap of colorful leather.

Quickly knotting my laces, I head out the front door and toward the beach.

As my adrenaline flows, my mind clears and it’s like every moment of my life leading to this moment makes perfect sense. Nike is in my soul. In my blood. And so is my dad. Maybe I feel so close to him when I run because that’s when he’s closest to me—that’s when my Nike genes kick into full gear, and that’s my dad.

I smile and shake my head. I’m a descendant of Nike!

Maybe Mom was right—about not telling me sooner about my heritage. I mean, if I’d been labeled as a Nike I’d have been tossed in with the Ares crowd in a flash. Nicole and Troy and I might never have become friends. They would have been off-limits to me. And the truce I have with Stella would have been completely fake. We might not be best friends, but at least I know how to read her bullcrap and that she is genuinely starting to like me—even if it’s against her will.

Reaching the rocky cliffs at the far end of the beach, I sink down into the powder-soft sand. Sure, Griffin and I could have still ended up together since we’d have been in the same clique, but nothing else about my life would be—

“I figured I’d find you here.”

I look up as Griffin sits down on the sand next to me.

“I was just thinking about you,” I say.

“I would hope so,” he says, smiling, “I’ve been trailing you since you hit the beach.”

“Couldn’t keep up, huh?”

He shrugs. “Thought you needed some time.”

He sits there, arms resting on his knees as he stares out over the water, looking at me with those breathtaking blue eyes. Though he doesn’t say anything, I know he knows.

“Who told you?” I ask.