Goddess Boot Camp

'We can try that exercise tonight,' she calls out.

Following the path around the quad, I pass the girls' dorm. I'm thankful I don't have to live there. Sharing my bathroom with Stella is bad enough. I can't imagine sharing with an entire floor full of girls. Like Adara. I feel sorry for Nicole-she is so not the slumber-party type, but she's on the same floor as the cheer queen and three of her cheer minions.

As Nicole puts it, she's trapped in cheerland. This is her fourth summer in the dorms. Maybe she's built up a defense against Aphrodite's descendants.

Or, knowing Nicole, maybe she's placed some kind of curse on her door so they can't get into her room.

I'll have to ask her.

Detouring from the path, I decide to see if she's home. Maybe she can shed some light on the anonymous e-mail.

Her room is at the end of the first floor, with a great view out over the quad. Even if I didn't know which one was hers, I'd be able to guess-it's the only one with a sign that says KNOCK AT YOUR OWN PERIL just below a skull and crossbones. Braving the warning-but making sure to knock on the door itself, and notthe sign-I rap my knuckles on the smooth wood surface.

No response. If she were here, I'd at least get a threatening 'Who is it?'

I'm not ready to go home and I don't want to be alone. Classes should be out for the day. Maybe Troy is in his room.

I head back out and toward the boys' dorm and climb the front steps and the two flights of stairs to his third-floor room. My quads cry out a little at the climb, reminding me that recovery time is a good thing. When I reach the room with a giant foam guitar on the door, I knock. Three seconds later, Troy pulls it open.

'Phoebe,' he says with huge smile. 'What are you doing here?'

'Camp just ended,' I say. 'I was heading home and thought I'd stop by.'

'Get your butt in here, Castro,' Nicole barks.

Troy swings the door wide so I can see Nic lounging on the bean-bag in the corner. She's just sliding a big leather book into her messenger bag.

She waves me in. 'We've been waiting for you to show up.'

'What's up?' I ask

'I don't know what Nic's doing here,' he teases. When she casts a scowl his way, he grabs the guitar off his bed and sets it on the stand next to his desk. 'I was just about to play for some stress relief. My brain was not made for organic chemistry.'

'I don't want to interrupt.' I do, actually, but it seems way rude to say that. Even if I'm desperate for some reprieve from my own troubles.

'No worries.' He drops into his dorm-issue desk chair and motions me to the bed. 'You're stress relief, too.'

'Thanks,' I say, sinking onto his black-and-white-checkered comforter. 'I don't feel much like stress relief today.'

'Hard day at camp?' Nicole asks, pulling a bag of butterscotch candies out of her bag. She thrusts the bag in my direction.

Troy growls a little and frowns at the candy.

I lean over and take one. 'Yes. No. I don't know.' I twist open the cellophane wrapper. 'It's more than camp, I guess.'

Popping the butterscotch between my lips, I let the smoothly sweet taste melt over my tongue.

'Like what?' Nic asks.

Oh, everything. It's that I can only control my powers when I'm not trying to. It's that I'm afraid my boyfriend is getting back with his ex-or that I'm having an overreaction of jealousy. It's that I'm stuck at home with Stella, with her taking me on as her pet project. It's that I'm suddenly doubting what I learned about my dad's death, my boyfriend's loyalty, and my own sanity. It's a million things and nothing.

Not that I say any of that. Don't need to expose my friends to the insane ramblings of my brain. They might never recover.

'Like this.' I lift one hip and pull two pieces of paper from my back pocket.

Nicole snatches them from my hand.

After unfolding them, she says, 'They're blank.'

'I know,' I slide the butterscotch against my cheek so I can talk. They're not supposedto be blank. They're supposedto be e-mail printouts. I slip the butterscotch back onto my tongue and mutter, 'Thtupid, curthed e-mails.'

'They wouldn't print?' Troy asks.

I shake my head. When I received the second e-mail last night,almost identical to the first, I wanted a printout so I could I analyze them. Maybe find a clue to who sent them.

Forty-seven attempts later, all I had was blank paper.

'Huh.' Troy's brows scrunch together. 'Who were they from?'

'The same person who sent the note,' Nicole suggests.

'Probably.' Unable to resist, I crunch the butterscotch. Someday my teeth will be dust. 'The sender's address was blocked.'

'Blocked?' Troy's eyes get all wide. This was to your Academy e-mail?' When I nod., he shakes his head. 'The Academy e-mail system doesn't allow blocked senders.'

I shrug. As if I can change what happened.

'Show me.' He leaps up from his desk chair and waves me over. 'Log on to your e- mail.'

With a heavy sigh, I push off the bed. It's not that I don't want to find out who sent the message, and how they managed to block the sender andkeep it from printing. I am just running low on motivation.

When I'm slow to move, Troy takes my shoulders, urges me into the chair, and shoves me closer to the desk. Grabbing the mouse, I click the Academy e-mail logo and enter my user name and password.

'See.' I point at the blocked messages, still at the top of my inbox.

Troy leans over my shoulder, squinting at the screen. 'I can't believe it. Academy e-mail is impenetrable. No one can bypass the security system without major repercussions.'

'What about last year,' I ask. 'when Griffin messed with my e-mail? Every time I deleted his message a new one popped up.'

'That's different.' Troy rubs a hand back and forth over his shorthair. 'Anyone can create a simple hack on their own computer to automatically resend a message. But this messes with the Academy server. It's impossible.'

'Maybe,' I say, thinking. Clearly not.'But that doesn't change the fact that-'

'Let's take this to Urian,' Nic says, 'He'll figure it out.'

'She's right. The kid's a genius.' Troy jerks the desk chair back, with me in it. 'Let's go.'

He hurries out into the hall. Nicole shrugs, like we both knowhe's overreacting, but follows him through the door. When I getinto the hall. I see Troy knocking on a door three rooms down.When there's no answer, he rolls his eyes and knocks again, thistime with a knock-knock… knock knock-knock- knockpattern.

'Password?' a muffled voice says through the door.

'Chimera.'

No answer.