Crawling up Damian's tie-and along his collar and out of his shirt pocket and over his cuff links-are real, live beetles.

"Good heavens." Mom gasps.

Damian closes his eyes, his jaw clenched in clear loss of patience.

Not again. "Here, let me-"

"No." Damian interrupts. "I'll take care of them."

He glows for a second and then the beetles are gone.

Why can't I have that kind of easy control? I mean, I know he's had a lifetime to learn, but just a little taste of containment would be nice.

"Damian, I'm sorry," I say, giving him my best apologetic look. "I shouldn't have tried to use my powers at the dinner table."

"No, you should not have." He releases a heavy sigh. When he opens his eyes, he smiles and picks up his fork. "Let's continue our meal, shall we?"

I glare at Stella, as if this is all her fault.

On the outside, she's all composure and highlights and happy, preppy chic. But her gray eyes are full of smug. Like my reaction- my botched powers usage-is exactly what she wanted. I think she enjoys our not-quite-sisterly sparring sessions as much as I do.

Sometimes I think it's more habit with us than actual dislike. Secretly- and I would never admit this under torture or threats of smoting or promises of ice cream-I actually kind of admire her. She never pretends to be anything but herself. Can't say that about most people.

She grabs an olive-the legs now hanging limp-and says, "I think it's lucky for all of us that you're going to boot camp. Mealtime will be safe again."

She pops the olive in her mouth and I'm only partly satisfied by the disgusted look on her face. The rest of me is still disappointed that my success turned to failure so quickly.

As much as Stella's snarky comment about boot camp bugs me, I know that controlling my powers is really important.

I'm tired of being a supernatural hazard.


After dinner, I retreat to my room and my laptop. I call up my IM chat and am relieved to find Nola and Cesca online. If anyone can cheer me up it's my two best friends.


LostPhoebe: hi girls!

PrincessCesea: Phoebe!

GranolaGrrl: we've been waiting for you forever

LostPhoebe: what's up?

PrincessCesea: we have exciting news

PrincessCesca: I got a summer internship with A La Mode magazine

PrincessCesca: in PARIS!!

LostPhoebe: omg Paris?!? awesome

PrincessCesca: tell me about it

LostPhoebe: when does it start?

PrincessCesca: the end of the month

LostPhoebe: maybe I can visit you


Paris is only a three-and-a-half hour flight from Athens, and Athens is only a three-hour ferry ride from Serifus-the next island over. I bet once I pass the test I can sneak away for a quiek visit. Of course that implies that I pass the test and don't end up hanging from some medieval torture device in the dungeon. With all my other distractions, that's nowhere near a sure thing.

For now, though, I'm just excited for Cesca. I know how much she loves Paris and fashion. This is perfect for her.


LostPhoebe: thats so awesome C!

PrincessCesca: thanks

PrincessCesca: I'm beyond excited

LostPhoebe: what's your news N?

GranolaGrrl: I might get a summer research grant from Berkeley

LostPhoebe: cool, what are you going to research?

GranolaGrrl: native cycladian flora

LostPhoebe: English please?

GranolaGrrl: the flowers of Serfopoula

LostPhoebe: OMG! does that mean you'd be coming here?

GranolaGrrl: yes!

GranolaGrrl: *if* I get the grant


I haven't seen Nola and Cesca since Mom and Damian's wedding last December. There was talk of me spending part of the summer with Yia Yia Minta in LA, or maybe visiting Aunt Megan in San Francisco, but when the Pythian Games trials came up, those plans got put on hold. If Griffin and I make the team, then we'll be training all summer for the games in late August. This is a once-every-four-years opportunity, so I can't just toss it aside.

But if Cesca is as close as Paris and Nola comes to Serfopoula itself, then it won't matter if I can't get to Cali.


LostPhoebe: when do you find out?

GranolaGrrl: who knows?

GranolaGrrl: whenever the grant committee comes back from summer hiatus

LostPhoebe: you guys do not know how much you just made my day

GranolaGrrl: something wrong?

LostPhoebe: no, just a tough day

LostPhoebe: so much better now

GranolaGrrl: gotta go

GranolaGrrl: mom calling

PrincessCesea: me too

PrincessCesca: Tons of packing to do

LostPhoebe: night girls

LostPhoebe: so glad you're heading my way


When I sign off my computer i feel a million times better. It's amazing what a difference a little chat can make.

As I fall into bed, I'm not even thinking about tomorrow. Or about Griffin and Adara. Or the stupid test. Or Dad. Or accidental smoting. In my mind it's already weeks from now and my two best friends are here.

Now, if only actual time would fly that fast.


"Rise and shine, camper."

Through the fog of sleep I hear a disgustingly cheerful voice. Stella's disgustingly cheerful voice. I must be having a nightmare. In real life Stella is never cheerful. Condescending? Yes. Obnoxious? Absolutely. Just. Not. Cheerful.

"Come on. Phoebekins." the voice says. "You need to get up and see Dad and Valerie off. And you don't want to be late for camp."

I'm blinded as my comforter is jerked away and my eyes are exposed to the morning sunlight streaming in my window. Squinting, I force one eye open.

"What are you doing in my room?" I grumble.

"Waking you up, silly." She takes me by the wrist and pulls me into a sitting position. "They're leaving in ten minutes."


The instant she releases my wrist I fall back into my fluffy white bed.

But my eyes are open.

As she walks away I eye her warily. It's not like Stella to be so sickeningly enthusiastic. She's more the scowl-of-superiority type. But today, everything about her screams joyfulness. From her sunny yellow twinset to her bright white Keds.

Wait. Stella doesn't wear sneakers. Not even the casual preppy kind.

Something is definitely suspicious.

"Are you up. Phoebola?" Mom asks, poking her head in my door. "You know we're leaving in-"

"I'm up already." I say, flinging my comforter to the side.

"Is Phoebe awake?" Damian asks, walking up next to Mom. When he sees me climbing out of bed he adds. "Good, your mother and I are about to depart."

"I know." I rub the sleep out of my eyes as I stumble across the room. "Just give me two minutes in the bathroom."

I squeeze around Mom and Damian and then past Stella, who is waiting in the hall. When did my room become Union Station? Thankfully I sleep in a modest T-shirt and smiley-face boxers.

In the bathroom I quickly splash cold water on my face and run a hairbrush through my hair. I don't have the energy to pull it into a ponytail, so I just leave it hanging over my shoulders. I can always secure it later.

When I open the bathroom door, all three of them are standing there waiting for me.

"For the love of Nike," I say, exasperated. "Would you two bon voyage already so 1 can go back to waking up in peace?"

Mom gives me a ha-ha-very-funny look. What were they thinking leaving at eight in the morning, anyway? Thailand will still be there in the afternoon.

I shuffle into my room, closing the door before any of them can follow me. Thirty seconds later I've traded my boxers for sweats and have pulled on my All Stars so I can see them off.

In a bizarre little parade, we all traipse down to the dock. Zenos, the yacht captain, is carrying two of Mom's megasuitcases and Damian is carrying the other. I'm struggling with Mom's carry-on- which I suspect has at least a week's worth of clothes. Mom is walking hand in hand with Hesper, who is way more like family than staff. Stella is carrying-yep, you guessed it-nothing. How does she always manage to get out of these things? She's like the Houdini of grunt work. Makes Tom Sawyer look like an amateur slacker.

As Damian and Zenos load the suitcases, Mom faces me and Stella.

"Now you're sure you girls will be all right?" she asks, again.

I'm tempted to employ sarcasm, but the fear that she might actually take it seriously makes me say. "Of course, Mom."

"Really. Valerie." Stella adds. "I have everything under control."

I drop Mom's carry-on on Stella's Keds-clad foot.

"Because we can cancel the trip," Mom says. And I know from the supersad look in her eyes, she'd do it, too. She wouldn't want to- she's been dreaming of this trip for months-but she would.

I scoot the carry-on off of Stella's foot.

"Seriously, we'll be fine," I say, giving her my best I'll-behave-like-an-adult sincerity. "Stella and I can get along for a few days." I don't look at Stella because I don't think I can hold a straight face. "I'll be busy training and going to camp."

"If you're sure…" Mom's eyes get all watery.

"Besides, we're on an island protected by the gods," I say, throwing my arms out wide. "What could possibly go wrong?"

know, I know. Whenever someone says that in movies, something goes terribly wrong. But seriously, this is the island of the gods-they even have the souvenir T-shirts to prove it. There are supernatural safeguards.

"Don't work too hard." she insists, pulling me into a hug.

"I won't."

"Don't spend all your time worrying about the test."

"I won't."

"1 wish this was something I could help you with, she sniffs. "I feel so powerless and-"

"I know, Mom." I lean back and give her my best seriously-I'm-an-adult-and-I'm-totally-fine look. "Really, I have to figure it out on my own."

Hopefully with a little help from Goddess Boot Camp.

"The yacht is ready,Valerie," Damian says. "We must depart or we will miss the ferry in Serifos."

Mom's tears start to fall. "I'll call you every day, she says, squeezing me one last time.

"You will not, I insist. "This is your honeymoon. Enjoy it. Don't spend all your time worrying about me."

When she releases me,she quickly wipes away her tears. Stella steps forward and gives her a quick hug.

"I'll take care of your girl, Valerie." she promises.

Okay. I am seriously getting tired of Stella's patronizing comments. Like I'm some kind of little kid who needs to be watched over. She's months-not years-older. But I am not about to try for revenge with Mom and Damian standing right there. If I mess up- or maybe I should say whenI mess up-they'll cancel their trip in a second. And then I'd feel really, really guilty.