Nicole looks like she’s trying to burn a hole right through his skull. “My father lost his job and my parents got exiled from the island.”
“And mine got banished from the face of the Earth.”
“It’s nothing more than they deserved,” she says, her entire body shaking with rage.
Griffin jerks back like he’s been slapped in the face. So that’s what happened to his parents. Wrapping my free hand around our laced fingers, I concentrate on sending every ounce of compassion and sympathy I can to him. His hand relaxes and I can tell that he’s calming down.
Nicole keeps going. “If you hadn’t been so self-centered, if you had only told the council where we were—”
“I did,” he whispers, his words echoing through the ancient halls.
Nicole stares at him, blinking. “You—what?”
“I did tell them,” he says, his voice steady. “I told the high council that we were the ones that stole the nectar of the gods and fed it to Hera’s son.”
“Oh my gods,” Troy gasps. He’d been silent and huddled against the lockers up to this point, so what Griffin just said must have been really bad.
“What?” I ask.
“If a god consumes ambrosia before the age of two, it steals his immortality,” Griffin, not taking his eyes off Nicole, explains. “I told them that we didn’t know. We were only seven, for Zeus’s sake.”
“Y-you did?” Nicole stammers, as if she can’t believe what Griffin said. “You told them?”
“I did.”
“Then why—”
“My parents insisted I was lying to protect them.” The muscles of his jaw clench and I can tell he’s boiling with emotion—he has been holding on to this since his parents disappeared more than ten years ago.
I lift our joined hands and kiss his palm.
He adds, “They took the punishment that should have been mine.”
For the longest time, Nicole just stares at him. My heart breaks for her. She has been holding on to this resentment for such a long time, too. It must be hard to realize that all those years of resentment were misplaced.
Finally, eyes glistening, she says, “And mine.” She wipes roughly at the tears. “It was my idea.”
Then she does the most surprising thing. She rushes forward and pulls Griffin into a hug. Now, I haven’t known Nicole for all that long, but I think it’s safe to say that public displays of affection—or any display of affection—is not really her thing.
“All these years,” she says, her voice tight. “You were my best friend and I blamed you—”
“Shhh,” Griffin says, squeezing my hand tighter and using his other to stroke Nicole’s back. “I came to grips with my guilt a long time ago. Don’t you pick up where I left off.”
It could be his hero instinct compelling him to make her feel better, but something tells me that this is as much about Griffin healing as it is about Nicole. That’s a lot of anguish for them to carry. Hercules has nothing to do with this.
In that moment, I feel a connection to him like I’ve never felt with anyone before. Like I can feel what he’s feeling. Little tingles—like a whole bunch of static shocks—prick at my palm where it meets Griffin’s. He lays his cheek against Nicole’s head and our eyes meet over her spiky blonde hair. A spark flashes in his eyes. He can feel the connection, too.
I glance at Troy, who looks totally stunned.
He’s such a good friend I know he resented Griffin on Nicole’s behalf. I bet he’s just as shocked as she is to hear Griffin’s side of the story. When I give him a look that says, “What do you think?” he just shakes his head in disbelief.
When Nicole finally steps back, her eyes are red but dry.
“Well,” she says, pulling on her tough girl attitude, “we’d better get to class. One more tardy and Tyrant’s making me clean the blackboards with my tongue.”
Without another word, she turns and heads off down the hall. Troy stares for a second, then shrugs and trails after her.
Griffin slips his arm around my waist as we follow, hugging me close to his side. “Thanks,” he whispers in my ear. “That would never have happened without you.”
“But I didn’t—”
“I know,” he says. “You didn’t do anything. It just seems like good things have been happening for me since you got here.”
Wow. I’m trying to think up a suitable response when Nicole glances back over her shoulder and shouts, “Hurry up, Blake. I may have forgiven you, but I’m not licking chalk dust for anyone.”
We all laugh, and I feel like things are finally starting to come together.
My life in Serfopoula may not be perfect, but it seems to be getting better every day.
The next morning I nearly throw up.
This isn’t out of the ordinary. I nearly throw up before every race.
But this morning is so bad I can’t even eat my customary oatmeal
with brown sugar and raisins pre-race breakfast.
I try not to take this as a bad omen.
Then again, at a school full of descendants it’s highly possible someone—Adara—has bribed the Fates to ruin my life today. Stella has been so . . . well, not nice exactly, but not horrid, lately that when Damian threatened to ground her powers for a year if she interfered with the race she actually laughed at him. It’s not like we’re friends, but I think we have an understanding.