Oh. My. Gods.

strength. It’s noble.”

“You don’t under-”

“There’s nothing to understand, Griffin. You help people. That’s the bottom line. There are a lot of people in the world who don’t help anyone but themselves. And a lot more who wish they could do something-anything-to help someone in need, but can’t or won’t. The fact that you have to help people doesn’t diminish the fact that you do help them.”

We walk quietly for a few seconds. I give him time to let what I’m saying sink it-if he’s felt this way his whole life then it might be hard to accept. And it might explain why he’s such a jerk half the time. A little rebellion against his heroic blood.

Not that this excuses his behavior.

As we pass the finish line of our sixth lap, he says, “I guess I never looked at it that way.”

“Well,” I say, speeding up to a full run, “you should.”

He falls silent for a few seconds before blurting, “I broke up with Adara yesterday.”

“Oh really?” I ask, trying for cool, disinterested calm when my insides are jumping for joy. “That’s too bad.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, not looking at me but smiling just the same. “I never realized what an awful person she could be until I saw how she treated you.”

Though my heart is pounding like a bongo, I don’t say anything else. I just let the excitement over the possibilities crackle in the silence.

Together, we half-race around the track a few times before doing another cooldown. Racing Griffin in a good-natured competition feels good-like a kind of freedom I haven’t felt before. I want to win, but at the same time I’m just having fun. And if the big smile on his face is any sign, he’s having fun, too.

When we finish our last lap, he teases, “Race you to the water fountain.”

“No,” I reply, swatting him on the arm. “Then we’d have to cool down again.”

“Afraid you’ll lose?”

I look him straight in the eyes. “I won’t lose.”

Then I take off for the water fountain in the tunnel at full speed.

Griffin is fast on my heels as I skid to a stop, bending to take my victory drink.

“Well, well, well,” a girl’s voice echoes through the tunnel. “Aren’t you two having fun.”

“Quite the pair of running buddies,” another girl-the voice sounds like Stella, but I can’t be sure with the echo-says.

Griffin moves closer to my side, like he has to protect me from something. Must be that hero instinct in him. Seconds later, Adaraand Stella step out of the shadows at the top of the tunnel, heading straight for us. They come to a stop, posing with hands on hips, directly in front of me.

“Looks like you won the bet,” Adara says, looking right at me.

“What bet?” I ask, genuinely confused.

If she’s talking about my deal with Stella there was no bet involved. That must mean“Dara, don’t,” Griffin says.

“Sure does.” Stella looks me up and down like I’m something stuck to the bottom of her ballet flats. “I believe you owe me a latte.”

“What bet?” I repeat.

“It’s nothing,” Griffin says-not that I believe him.

“Nothing?” Adara looks at Griffin, shocked. “I think this was a major coup.”

“And I thank you for it.” Stella gives Griffin the most evil looking smile I have ever seen.

“What bet!?”

Adara answers, “It’s quite simple, really.”

“Griffin said he could get you to fall for him,” Stella says, “even though he treated you like trash when you first got here.”

“I didn’t think he could,” Adara says. “I thought you had more self-respect than that.”

“But I knew he could.” Stella winks at him. “He’s charming and you’re weak. I was right.”

Griffin stands there, stiff and silent.

“We made a bet.” Adara links her arm through his. “A latte at Kaldi’s coffee shop to whoever was right.”

I stare at Griffin. “You knew about this? You started this?”

He makes no indication he even hears me.

“I must confess,” Stella coos, turning her attention to Adara. “I did cheat a little. I gave Phoebe some motivation to spend time with him-to befriend him. If you want to call the bet, I understand.”

“No,” Adara assures her. “You were right. Whether you urged her along or not, she still fell for him like a lead anchor.”

My head is spinning.

It was all because of a bet. He spent time with me, treated me like a friend, all because of some stupid bet. The whole Hercules thing was probably a total lie. And that garbage about breaking up with Adara.

Before I can stop myself, I take two steps toward Griffin, pull back my hand, and slap him as hard as I can. I don’t wait around to see if I leave a mark.

“Nicole was right about you. You’re a selfish bastard.” I barely have control of the tears trying to fill my eyes. “Stay away from me.”

Then I run all the way home.

Mom tries to get me to talk when I won’t even leave my room for dinner, but I tell her it’s just hormones and she leaves me alone.

Even if she doesn’t believe me.

Spending an entire day locked in my room, avoiding all social interaction, gives me a lot of time to think. I go back over all the moments with Griffin, analyzing each one, and decide that I can’t tell when he was being straight and when he was playing me. Which only reinforces my decision to stay as far away from him as possible.

I can’t trust myself to tell which Griffin I’m talking to.

Around ten o’clock I decide to check my e-mail.

I have been avoiding it all day-just in case there’s another drama/crisis/problem waiting for me in my inbox. After deleting all the spam-you would think the gods could develop some sort of supernatural spam-blocker-I have three new messages. I decide to open in the order of most likely to make me feel better-or rather, least likely to make me feel like worse crap.

The first is from Coach Jack at USC.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Cross-Country Scholarships

Miss Phoebe Castro, I am pleased to announce that you are being considered for the Helen Rawlins Memorial Scholarship. Pending your successful admission to the University of Southern California, you will compete with three other candidates for this prestigious scholarship that will cover your tuition, books, fees, room and board for up to four years of undergraduate education.

Annual renewal of the scholarship is dependent upon maintaining an above-average academic record and participation in the USC cross-country team.

Best of luck,

Coach Jack Farley

This isn’t anything I didn’t already know. Coach Jack told me at camp that I was up for the scholarship, even though the officialannouncement wouldn’t be made until the fall. He also said that if I get through senior year with a B average and do well in crosscountry meets then the scholarship is mine.

Six months ago that didn’t seem like a difficult task.

Today it seems impossible.

I move that message into my USC folder and go on to the mes sage from Cesca.