Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

“I’ll make your life miserable.”
“Take a number,” I throw over my shoulder as I hurry into a jog,
heading for the track. I am so ready for the exhaustion two hours
of running brings.
“Can we call a truce?” Stella walks into my room and sits on my bed
like she owns it.
Ew, now I have to wash my sheets.
I eye her skeptically. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” she assures me. “I just think we should try getting
along like sisters. After all, it’s going to be a long year if we fight
the whole time.”
I agree. But I don’t believe her.
Stella doesn’t have a let’s-get-along bone in her body. And her
eyes still have a little rim of ice around the edges.
“I’m not buying,” I say before returning my attention to conjugating
Greek verbs—and they’re kicking my tail. Can’t they use the
regular alphabet? “Just pull whatever prank you want to pull so I
can get back to my homework.”
“So untrusting, Phoebe.” She stands and starts to leave. “I speak
fluent Greek, you know. I was going to offer my help. . . .”
I want to ignore her, really I do. But just then I’m trying to figure
out the aorist tense of to be, which is just one of the like forty tenses
I have to conjugate.
“Wait!” I blurt.
“Yes?” I can tell from her tone of voice that she knows I’m des-
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