Goddess Boot Camp Read Free Page B

hero.
    “Let me just lace up,” I say, releasing him and going for my sneakers under the bed, “and I’ll be ready to go.”
    “Hey, Nic,” he says softly.
    She gives him a little smile. “Hi, Griff.”
    “You doing all right?” he asks.
    “Always, jockhead.”
    She means that affectionately. I think.
    Besides, all the descendants of Ares are jockheads. But there’s more to him. She doesn’t know he’s a heroic descendant of Hercules, too. No one does.
    I take a seat on my bright yellow rug and pull on my Nikes. Even though Griffin and Nicole worked through their major problems last fall—they had been best friends when they were little, until their parents got punished for something the kids did—they’re still a little awkward around each other. They both like me, though, and they have some serious history behind them. I have faith.
    “What were you saying about Goddess Boot Camp?” Griffin asks as I tie my laces into bows. “Why are you going?”
    “Damian’s making me.” I let out a rough breath. “He’s afraid I won’t be able to pass the test.”
    “What test?”
    “The one the gods are making her take,” Nicole explains.
    Griffin scowls, his dark eyebrows scrunching together over his bright blue eyes in an adorably concerned way. “I was afraid something like this would happen. What with your powers still so unpredictable—”
    “Hey!” I smack him on the thigh. “It’s not for lack of trying.”
    “I know,” he says, reaching down and pulling me to my feet. “It’s not your fault. Not with such late-onset powers.”
    “And the fact that you’re only three steps down from Nike,” Nicole adds. “They’re stronger than most.”
    I feel a little better. I mean, most of the kids at the Academy are several generations or more removed from their ancestor god. The closer your branch is to the trunk of the tree, the stronger the powers. Mine are colossal strong. Which makes them colossal hard to control.
    Clearly, the gods aren’t taking that into account.
    “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.” Sometimes I open my mouth and my emotions spill out before I can check them. “It’s not your fault I’m a complete failure at the whole powers thing.”
    “You’re not a failure,” Griffin insists. “Just . . . inexperienced. Like training for the Pythian Games. Even though you already know how to run, you still need to train hard and in a different way for the marathon-length race than you do for cross-country. Right?”
    “Of course.”
    “You just have to keep pushing yourself harder, further, until it becomes as natural as what you’re used to.”
    One of the reasons I adore Griffin so much is his ability to speak my language. Runner-ese.
    “What do you think will happen if I fail the test?” I ask. “Damian wasn’t exactly forthcoming about the consequences.”
    Griffin shakes his head. “I don’t know. Has anyone else ever taken a test like this?”
    “There are rumors,” Nicole says. “No one’s ever proven them.”
    “Damian told me there has been one other student tested since he became headmaster. But he didn’t tell me who it was or what happened.”
    Nicole snorts.
    We all know Damian’s big on secrecy. The man makes the CIA look like a gabfest. He is Mr. Need-to-know. As in, students never need to know.
    I close my eyes. It’s either that or give in to the despair. Of course I’m one of only two hematheos in recent history forced to take a powers test—and likely to fail that test. Life would be too good if I weren’t about to be made a horrible outcast. I mean more of a horrible outcast. It’s bad enough I’m already the girl who didn’t know about her powers—and the entire hematheos world—until she was seventeen, and the girl who is so close to Nike she makes the other kids nervous and resentful. Now I’ll be the girl strung up on the rack for the next seven or so centuries.
    Rather than focus on something I don’t have control over at the