could conceivably end up keeping him for myself-which means I would get to see Stella lose out on something she really wants. A rare occurrence, I think.

Win-win.

“All right,” I finally say. “You help me, I’ll help you.”

She actually smiles, a genuine, nonthreatening smile.

That won’t last.

“But I can’t make any guarantees,” I add. “How am I supposed to break up the golden couple? What if I can’t split them up?”

“You’ll find a way.” She turns to walk away. “I hear cross-country teammates grow very close. Steal him, dump him, and I’ll clean up the pieces.”

She opens the door and starts to leave.

“Hey,” I cry. “What about my homework?”

She looks back over her shoulder. Her smile is sinister. “As soon as you meet your end of the bargain, I’ll fulfill mine.”

Then she walks out of the room, slamming the door.

I send my Modern Greek textbook flying after her.

“Phoebe?” a muffled voice calls to me. Then louder, clearer, “Phoebe?”

“Mmnff,” I grumble and settle back into my dreamland.

“Phoebe!”

I shoot up in my chair. “Wha-what’s going on?”

“Phoebe, honey,” Mom says, laying a hand on my shoulder, “you fell asleep over your homework.”

A quick glance at my desk reveals some sleep-crumpled papers and, thankfully, no drool puddle. Peeling a sheet of notebook paper off my cheek, I check and see that I had finished my Art History questionnaire before dozing off.

“Thanks,” I say, smoothing out the paper and slipping it into my binder. “I guess practice wore me out.”

“Did you want to check e-mail before Damian and I go to bed?”

Ew. I shudder at the thought of Mom and Damian going to bed together. I mean, I know this isn’t our first night here, but I don’t need the reminder of where my mother sleeps.

“Sure,” I say before she can elaborate. “I’ll go do that right now.”

She stops me before I hurry out of the room. “Is everything all right, Phoebola?”

“Sure,” I say again. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You seem a little…” She gives me a sad look. “… withdrawn.”

“There’s a lot going on,” I explain.

“Are you having trouble with your classes?”

“No,” I assure her. “I mean, sure it’s loads more work than we ever had at Pacific Park, but I’m making it through.”

“Then it’s your classmates.” She frowns like she’s thinking hard about something. “I thought you said you’d made new friends?”

“Yeah.” And a few enemies. Not that I’d tell her that-it would be like tattling to the principal. “Nicole and Troy are great.”

“What about your track teammates?”

I can’t help rolling my eyes. “I don’t have to like them to run with them.”

“Want to talk about it?”

I’m tempted. I mean, I haven’t spoken to anyone but descendants since we got here. And she’s the only non-descendant I’m allowed to talk to about everything that’s going on. Besides, before the stepdad entered the picture we were like best friends. We talked about everything. I could talk to her about things I couldn’t even talk about with Nola and Cesca. I cried on her shoulder when jerky Justin dumped me and she didn’t even try to shrink me.

But I can’t forget what Stella said about Mom agreeing that I should stay here-or the fact that it’s Mom’s fault I’m in this mess in the first place.

“No, I’m exhausted,” I say. “I’m just going to check e-mail and go to bed.”

“You would feel better if you got things off your chest.”

“Really,” I insist. “I’m fine.”

I can tell she isn’t satisfied. Maybe if she were just in parent mode I would talk to her, work through things rationally. But I’m in no mood to unload my issues-especially not on Super-Therapist Mom.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.” She smiles big, in a way that means she thinks she has a fabulous idea. “Why don’t we have a mother-daughter day? We could go to the village and browse the little shops and have sundaes at the ice cream parlor.”

“I don’t know, Mom. I’ve go so much going on-”

“You can’t run and do schoolwork all the time.” She brushes a loose lock of hair off my face. “How about Saturday? It might be tough, but I’ll clear my hectic schedule.”

For a second, it’s like the old Mom and Phoebe are back. She’s joking with me and I’m rolling my eyes at her corny humor. Maybe it would be good to spend some time together. Besides, I haven’t seen the village yet, except for from the dock. Who knows, it could actually have a cool shop or two. I could get souvenirs for Nola and Cesca.

“Sure,” I say. “Saturday.”

With a quick wave, I leave her alone in my room and retreat to Damian’s study and my electronic connection to the civilized world.

I click open my e-mail. The little smiley faces next to Cesca and Nola’s e-mail addys are bright yellow. They’re online!

Two mouse clicks later I have my IM open.

LostPhoebe: hi!!!

GranolaGrrl: Phoebe

PrincessCesca: finally! been waiting online all day

GranolaGrrl: no we haven’t

LostPhoebe: glad ur here

LostPhoebe: did you get my e-mail?

PrincessCesca: of course

GranolaGrrl: things can’t be bad as you think

GranolaGrrl: nothing ever is

PrincessCesca: have you been to the beach yet?

LostPhoebe: just for a quick run

GranolaGrrl: I bet they’re polluted anyway

GranolaGrrl: all those years of combustion powerboats cruising the Mediterranean

PrincessCesca: ignore enviro-freak

PrincessCesca: dish on the guy scene

GranolaGrrl: insulted

LostPhoebe: well there are a couple of really cute guys

GranolaGrrl: I resent being labeled an enviro-freak

PrincessCesca: which one is taking you to homecoming?

GranolaGrrl: I prefer to be called environmentally active

LostPhoebe: I don’t think they have a homecoming

LostPhoebe: besides, one of them already hates me

GranolaGrrl: hate is the mirror of love

PrincessCesca: what about the other guy?

I pause, thinking about Troy. He’s cute. And nice. And a good friend. And nice. And thoughtful. And nice.

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