Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

I reach up and tighten my ponytail. My hair only has two styles:
ponytail and down. Ponytail for running. Down for school.
Not even the great Griffin Blake can induce anything more elab-
orate from me.
“Before we get to, um, strategy,” I say, knowing that this is a
question I need answered before this goes any further, “I want to
ask about your history with Griffin. It seems like you have some bad
blood and I don’t want to—”
“There’s no history,” she snaps. “Not the romantic kind, anyway.
It’s just a personal disagreement. Don’t worry about it.”
Keep your nose out of my business. I hear the unspoken caution as
clearly as if she’d said it aloud.
“Okay.” I can take a blatant hint to move on.
She runs her hands through her spiky blonde hair, sending it in
all different directions. “Listen,” she says, taking a seat on my bed. “I
don’t really like to talk about this. I mean, I never have talked about
this with anyone.”
“I get it.” I sit down next to her. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You should know.” Taking a deep
breath, she says, “Griffin and I used to be friends. Best friends.”
Wow, I did not see that one coming.
“When we were young we got into trouble. Big trouble.” Her eyes
shine bright with unshed tears. “My parents wound up exiled from
Serfopoula. That’s why I didn’t start at the Academy until Level 9.”
“Oh, Nicole, I’m so sorry.”
“The worst of it was,” she says, wiping at her tears, “they were
punished because of what Griffin and I did. Because he wouldn’t
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