Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly
Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly
Every last inch of the interior wall is a trophy display. “Then what—” “Many of these are for academic competitions,” he explains, answering my question before I finish. “But we also hold many historical artifacts on display. Artifacts too valuable to display in a museum. Our security is impenetrable.” “Artifacts?” “This,” he says, pointing to a no-larger-than-life-size apple that looks like it’s been dipped in gold, “is the Apple of Discord, the cause of the Trojan War.” I lean in for a closer look. Other than being gold, it doesn’t look any different than a regular apple. Then the letters of a Greek word carved on its side start to glow, like it knows someone’s watching. “Be careful.” Damian pulls me back. “The Apple is tremendously powerful and dangerous. Do not get too close.” “Oh,” I say casually, trying not to look impressed. “What else do you have?” “There is one display I think you will especially enjoy.” He strides off down the hall toward the sports section. When he stops in front of an almost empty case I nearly run into him. All that’s in the case is a little wreath of dried-up twigs. Not very impressive. Damian must think I’m easily amused. Then I read the plaque. Laurel presented to the first Olympic champion, Nikomedes, 919 BC. Oh. My. God. I blink up at Damian, disbelieving. He smiles, a broad, self-satisfied smile that tells me he knows he impressed me and he isn’t going to let me forget it. I don’t care. 54
Reaching up, I finger the glass in front of the wreath, marveling at the thought that it had once crowned the very first Olympic champion ever. Kinda makes our medals seem like Happy Meal prizes. “Come, Phoebe,” Damian says, “we must discuss your schedule.” “B-but—” He gently presses a hand to my back and leads me away. “There will be plenty of time for worshipping the athletic artifacts,” he says. “You will be here for one year, at least.” Yes, yes, one year. “Next time,”—he stops in front of a door and, unlocking it, ushers me inside—“I will show you the actual Sandals of Pheidippides.” It’s a good thing Damian points me to the chair in front of his desk because I am on the verge of expiring from excitement. Suddenly, hurrying back to Athens to see the subway display—on my way back to civilization or not—seems like a really unnecessary expedition. Who needs a replica when you can see the real deal? 55
- Page 11 and 12: CH A P TE R WHEN I’M RUNNING I ca
- Page 13 and 14: “Congratulations, Phoebe,” he s
- Page 15 and 16: excitement. “The wedding will be
- Page 17 and 18: Mom gives me an of-course-not look.
- Page 19 and 20: “I don’t know,” Nola says.
- Page 21 and 22: just right—and it’s not like I
- Page 23 and 24: line at LAX security was so long I
- Page 25 and 26: many miles away, the lacy iron stru
- Page 27 and 28: Then, with no consideration for my
- Page 29 and 30: lissville and not even caring what
- Page 31 and 32: think about it, I’m off the train
- Page 33 and 34: in exhaustion and watching the wave
- Page 35 and 36: guy who keeps his speech squeaky cl
- Page 37 and 38: And while I might doubt her judgmen
- Page 39 and 40: tie—my first clue that he’s a l
- Page 41 and 42: around. “We descendants are more
- Page 43 and 44: defines their world in terms of ‘
- Page 45 and 46: I grab my backpack off the ground a
- Page 47 and 48: Stella laughs at me and pops one in
- Page 49 and 50: I don’t plan on eating anything t
- Page 51 and 52: major changes in our lives. I didn
- Page 53 and 54: Is that all? “Fine,” I say, sou
- Page 55 and 56: I click send and log off. Bed is ca
- Page 57 and 58: water on my face in the bathroom, l
- Page 59 and 60: high cheekbones. His lips are full
- Page 61: that time have been technological m
- Page 65 and 66: Clearly, Stella is not high on her
- Page 67 and 68: one year than I’ve read in my ent
- Page 69 and 70: is a lot more appealing as a mentor
- Page 71 and 72: Some of the girls are in sundresses
- Page 73 and 74: sandra and the Hades harem and foll
- Page 75 and 76: smile is more parental, small but s
- Page 77 and 78: Don’t they have better things to
- Page 79 and 80: Nicole points at Troy. “Travatas
- Page 81 and 82: His coal black hair curls over the
- Page 83 and 84: He looks right at me. There are at
- Page 85 and 86: I cheer, too. After all the embarra
- Page 87 and 88: “Yeah,” he says, blushing a lit
- Page 89 and 90: would know it. I’m only amusing m
- Page 91 and 92: The sounds of footsteps and heavy b
- Page 93 and 94: I wave my hand back over my shoulde
- Page 95 and 96: ice on Coach Lenny’s head. A grou
- Page 97 and 98: “Everyone, may I have your attent
- Page 99 and 100: “Damian told me the cross-country
- Page 101 and 102: “Of course,” she says with that
- Page 103 and 104: eight homework problems are going t
- Page 105 and 106: He points to the chair in front of
- Page 107 and 108: “Son of a—” “Something wron
- Page 109 and 110: TrojanTiger: just wanted to check i
- Page 111 and 112: To my total shock, Damian laughs ou
Every last inch of the interior wall is a trophy display.<br />
“Then what—”<br />
“Many of these are for academic competitions,” he explains,<br />
answering my question before I finish. “But we also hold many<br />
historical artifacts on display. Artifacts too valuable to display in a<br />
museum. Our security is impenetrable.”<br />
“Artifacts?”<br />
“This,” he says, pointing to a no-larger-than-life-size apple that<br />
looks like it’s been dipped in gold, “is the Apple of Discord, the<br />
cause of the Trojan War.”<br />
I lean in for a closer look. Other than being gold, it doesn’t look<br />
any different than a regular apple. Then the letters of a Greek word<br />
carved on its side start to glow, like it knows someone’s watching.<br />
“Be careful.” Damian pulls me back. “The Apple is tremendously<br />
powerful and dangerous. Do not get too close.”<br />
“<strong>Oh</strong>,” I say casually, trying not to look impressed. “What else do<br />
you have?”<br />
“There is one display I think you will especially enjoy.” He strides<br />
off down the hall toward the sports section. When he stops in front<br />
of an almost empty case I nearly run into him.<br />
All that’s in the case is a little wreath of dried-up twigs. Not very<br />
impressive. Damian must think I’m easily amused.<br />
Then I read the plaque.<br />
Laurel presented to the first Olympic champion, Nikomedes, 919 BC.<br />
<strong>Oh</strong>. <strong>My</strong>. God.<br />
I blink up at Damian, disbelieving.<br />
He smiles, a broad, self-satisfied smile that tells me he knows<br />
he impressed me and he isn’t going to let me forget it. I don’t care.<br />
54
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