Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

“Valerie, please,” she says. As she shakes his hand she gives me a
look that clearly says, Cute one! “I’m always pleased to meet Phoebe’s
teammates. Though she might not say it, she’s very excited to be on
the team.”
Thanks, Mom.
Griffin smiles politely. He flicks his eyes over at me as he says,
“We’re excited to have her on the team. She is the most challenging
runner I’ve ever practiced with.”
What was that? Sarcasm? Mockery? It didn’t sound fake, but it
had to be. Well, I’m not going to stick around to be laughed at with
backhanded compliments.
“Speaking of practicing,” I say, grabbing Mom by the hand, “I
have tons of homework to finish before my afternoon session.”
Mom frowns, like she doesn’t understand what’s gotten into me,
but lets me lead her out of the store. “Phoebe, honey,” she says
when we get out onto the cobblestone street, “is everything okay?”
“Sure,” I say. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“One minute you’re begging for bougatsa, the next you’re dragging
me out the door.”
Darn! I totally forgot the bougatsa. For a second I think about
going back, but decide that even custardy goodness isn’t worth facing
Griffin’s thinly veiled ridicule again.
“Yeah, well, the sugar would mess up my training diet.” Which
is a total lie.
Mom doesn’t let it go. “This has something to do with that boy,
doesn’t it—”
“Phoebe, wait!”
I turn to see Griffin jogging down the street toward us, a brown
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