Oh. My. Gods.

“I’m going to USC next year,” I say, filling the silence with my own voice. “Hopefully, I’ll get a cross-country scholarship. I just have to make a B average and do well in our meets and the coach says he’ll give me a full ride, which I’ll really need since Mom’s not working anymore and I don’t expect Damian to pay for anything because-”

“Oxford,” Griffin blurts. “I’m going to Oxford.”

Apparently he’s no match for babbling girls. I’ll have to keep that in mind in the future.

Remembering that Stella has the same plan, I ask, “Does everyone at the Academy go to Oxford?”

“The school has an… arrangement with the university administration.”

“What are you going to study?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to add, “Mythology?” but I decide against the sarcasm. At the moment he’s being heroic, but tomorrow at school is fair game and I don’t want to end up zapped to the ceiling in my underwear or anything.

“Economics.”

That’s it. One word response.

Not that I expect more.

“I’m going to study sports medicine. I want to be an athletic trainer, maybe for a college or the Olympic team or something.”

He grunts, which I take to be his confirmation that he heard what I said but doesn’t plan on replying. Which is fine, because I can keep on talking.

“I know I can’t run forever-even though I know there are always old guys in the Boston Marathon and stuff like that-but I have to make a living somehow. And this way I still get to be involved in sports without worrying when my knees are going to give out and-”

“We’re here.”

Lost in my one-sided conversation, I didn’t even realize we’d crossed the lawn, passed the school, and made it to the front steps of Damian’s house.

I do notice, however, that Griffin does not immediately drop me on my behind and run away as fast as he can.

Maybe it’s the hero contract.

“Well, thanks,” I say, even though he didn’t help me purely out of the goodness of his heart.

Still, he doesn’t put me down.

He does look at me, though, his bright blue eyes intent on mine.

It is a frozen moment-I can’t move or speak or react at all.

Helpless in his arms, silence ringing in my ears, I notice for the first time all the sensations. The feel of his heart pounding in his chest. His radiating heat. His arms against the bare skin of my legs and shoulder-

Oh. My. God.

I totally forgot the skimpy little running outfit Nicole made me wear. This whole time I’ve been half-naked in his arms-all right, I know all the important parts are covered and by MTV standards my clothes are practically dowdy, but for me this is exposed.

I’m not sure what to do. Should I kick and scream, demanding he put me down right now? Leap out of his arms-and likely fall flat on my face again thanks to Nicole’s amazing disappearing ankle trick? Enjoy the sensation of being held while his head dips down, inching closer and closer to mine-

“Ah-hem.”

Startled, I look up to see Stella standing in our open doorway.

She has her hands on her hips and looks like she caught us making out on the front steps.

Griffin’s ears are red with embarrassment.

Without saying a word he drops me on the steps, nods to Stella, and jogs off across the yard.

“Just keep in mind,” Stella snaps, “that you are supposed to be stealing Griffin away for me, not from me.”

I nod absently, not focused on her but on the spot where Griffin had just disappeared over the hill. Holding onto the doorjamb so I don’t fall over, I can’t waste energy worrying about her being mad at me.

Griffin Blake had been about to kiss me!

And stupid Stella had to interrupt.

PrincessCesca: did he wet his lips?

LostPhoebe: no

PrincessCesca: did he close his eyes?

LostPhoebe: no

PrincessCesca: did he lay his palm on your cheek?

LostPhoebe: no

LostPhoebe: he was kinda busy holding me

PrincessCesca: are you sure he was going to kiss you?

LostPhoebe: for the millionth time… yes!

PrincessCesca: you’re in trouble

LostPhoebe: tell me about it

PrincessCesca: ES will kill you if you catch him before she can ES is our shorthand for Evil Stepsister. AKA Stella.

After Griffin dropped me-and I found out that Nicole’s ankle zap had worn off and I could walk just fine-I had endured Stella’s inquisition about the whole thing.

As soon as she was satisfied, I ran to my room-to the new laptop and Internet connection that will be my salvation for these next few months-and called up Cesca on IM.

LostPhoebe: she won’t find out

PrincessCesca: it’s a small island

LostPhoebe: Justinian never found out they’d moved the school

PrincessCesca: what?

Oops. Not supposed to let that cat out of the bag. Well, at least I didn’t say who had moved the school. That would be worse.

LostPhoebe: just some junk about school history

LostPhoebe: we had a pep assembly on Friday

LostPhoebe: they’re big on tradition here

The cursor blinks at me for a long time. I can practically hear Cesca thinking from thousands of miles away. Great. If anyone can uncover the big secret, Cesca can. She’s the one who knew Justin was cheating on me weeks before the rest of the school found out.

PrincessCesca: yeah, Europeans are all serious about history

LostPhoebe: you’re not kidding

LostPhoebe: one of my teachers wears a toga to class

PrincessCesca: talk about your fashion faux pas

Another IM conversation pops up.

NaughtyNic: how’s your ankle

LostPhoebe: fine, no thanks to you

NaughtyNic: you were going to back out

LostPhoebe: that didn’t mean you had to