Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

“This is the other reason, besides your being my baby girl . . .”
Mom gives me a watery smile. “. . . that I think you need to stay on
at the Academy for an additional year.”
She’s right. Who knows what kind of damage I can do? I could
probably destroy this entire island without even—
No, I probably shouldn’t even think that.
“Hey girls,” I say as I walk out of Damian’s office in a daze.
They’re standing in front of the trophy case with the golden
apple, and when I speak they jump like they got caught watching
the neighbor boy undress. I know this, because that’s just how we
looked when we got caught spying on jerky Justin in eighth grade.
“Hi, Phoebes.” Cesca recovers first. “Have a good chat with the
stepdad?”
Nola looks guiltily over her shoulder at the apple. I guess Damian
is right: that apple is dangerous.
“Um, actually,” I say, knowing the time has come to tell them the
truth about the island, “I have some pretty heavy stuff to tell you
guys.” Nola still hasn’t looked away from the trophy case, so I suggest,
“Why don’t we go out into the courtyard?”
Cesca and I each grab Nola by a shoulder and drag her around
the corner and out through the double doors that open onto the
courtyard. There is a line of stone benches circling the perimeter,
so we head for one of those.
Nola elects to sit on the ground, pretzel-style, and turns her face
up to absorb the sun.
249