“Who?” he repeats.
“A fr-”
“He’s there,” I demand, “isn’t he?”
“What?” She’s talking to me again. “Who?”
Now she’s lying. To me. Her best friend.
“Justin.” I had so hoped it wasn’t true. “Why is he in your room?”
“He, uh…” She sounds resigned. “Phoebe, I wanted to tell you.
Really I did.”
“But?” I ask.
“There just never seemed a good time.”
“For what, Cesca?”
“To tell you that Justin and I have been seeing each other.”
My last hope that this was all some big misunderstanding-that I was totally wrong-vanishes. My best friend and my worst ex are dating.
“You’re right,” I say. “There is no good time to tell me that.”
“Phoebe, I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I say, stunned. “I’m sorry you didn’t learn from my mistake. You’re too good for him, Cesca.”
“I…” Her voices drops to a whisper again. “… I know. I just don’t know how to end it.”
“If it’s already over for you why did you tell him what I said?”
“I didn’t.”
“He found out somehow,” I explain. “He tried to post about it in his blog.”
“Well, I didn’t-” She gasps, then shouts-thankfully not at me“Why you rotten, sneaky bast-”
“What?” I interrupt.
“Hold on,” she says into the phone. Then I hear the click of the receiver being set down on her desk. “How
“I, uh,” Justin stammers in the background. “No?”
Bad move, Justin. If you’re going to lie, at least do it with conviction.
“Get your privacy-invading stinky ass out of my room.” Cesca is screaming so loud it sounds like she is talking directly into the receiver. “I never want to see you again. When you see me walking down the hall you’d better step out of my way!”
Two seconds later a loud
That, I think, is the sound of Cesca slamming the door after kicking Justin out of her room.
“You still there, Phoebe?”
“I’m here.” I’m relieved she sounds back to normal. “You all right?”
“Ugh, yes.” She sighs into the phone. “Can you believe how stupid I was? It’s not like I thought he would change. Can you still be friends with someone so stupid?”
“Hey,” I say, trying to rally her spirits, “you forget you’re talking to the girl who went out with him first. I think I get the stupidity crown.”
We laugh and I’m just thankful that our friendship is back on track. I don’t know what I’d do without Cesca to go to when I have a problem. I can always count on Cesca to set me straight. I mean, I love Nola, but she’s not the most grounded cookie in the jar.
“So,” she says hesitantly, “did he cause major problems for you?”
“No, not major.”
“Oh.”
“Look, Cesca. I really, really, really wish I could tell you what this is all about, but-”
“I understand. Just like I wouldn’t expect you to break my confidence if I had a secret, so I wouldn’t ask you to break someone else’s, either.”
Huge sigh of relief. It’s so much better to talk through things like this on the phone. E-mail is so impersonal- and so open to interpretation. We chat awhile longer-not too long because I know international calls can be astronomically expensive-before hanging up, promising to e-mail at least every other day. And to not keep any more secrets unless they’re somebody else’s.
Mom is waiting for me when I emerge.
“Is everything all right?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “We just had some stuff to talk through.”
“I know how much you miss your friends.” She wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll see them again soon.”
Not soon enough.
“At least they’re flying out for the wedding,” she adds.
I force a grin. “Only three months away.”
“Don’t worry.” She gives me a good squeeze before releasing me.
“Your friendships will survive the hurdles of time and space.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, not meaning it.
Three months and seven thousand miles is more than I’m willing to put between my friendships.
“Nervous?” Nicole asks as she slides in next to me at our lunch table. “The big race is only days away.”
“Nah.” I shrug.
On the inside, I’m boiling with nerves at the mere mention of the race. Sure, I’ve competed in dozens, maybe hundreds of races in my lifetime. This one is different.
There is more riding on the outcome. I’m used to racing for myself, trying to beat my time or beat my opponent. This time I’m racing for my racing future. Not just my slot on the team is at stake. If I don’t race well this year then no scholarship. No scholarship, no USC.
Talk about pressure.
But there’s more to this race than staying on the team. In all my years of running I’ve had a pretty easy time. Make a little effort andwin the race. This time I’m going to have to exert myself-run allout. I’m racing against some of the best high school athletes in the world, grounded powers or not. This is my first real opportunity to see what I’m made of on the racecourse.
I’m afraid to find out I’m made of nothing more than some talent and very little grit and determination.
Like my T-shirt says, NO GUTS , NO GLORY .
Still, I’m not about to let anyone know how nervous I am.
“No big deal,” I say, then take an I’m-totally-calm bite of my hamburger.
Troy walks up while my mouth is full and drops into the seat across from me. Ever since he finished Chemistry tutoring he’s been in the dumps.
“Hi,” he says.
I try to say, “Hi,” around my hamburger, but it sounds more like, “Mrff,” so I add a wave.
“I can’t stand this vortex of gloom anymore, Travatas,” Nicole blurts. “What’s your problem?”
“Yeah,” I say after taking a big gulp of pineapple Fanta to wash down the hamburger. “You seem so, well, not you.”
He shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess it’s just that, ever since I passed that test my dad has been pressuring me to apply for the Level 13 pre-med program.”
It kills me to see Troy so torn up. He obviously doesn’t want to be a doctor, so I don’t know why his parents are forcing him to try.
Music is his passion and they should support that. Just like Mom supports my running.
“You have to tell them,” I venture.
“Tell them what?” he asks.
“About your dreams,” I explain. “That you want to be a musician.”
He laughs out loud. “Yeah right. I like my powers, thank you very much, and I’d prefer to keep them.”
“They can take them away?” I ask. Maybe, if I push Stella enough, Damian will strip her powers.
