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  Why did I feel guilty, exactly?

  “I’ll text him back,” I said. “Maybe we can do something tomorrow.”

  Lauren gave me a thumbs-up, her hand against her thigh. I cleared my throat and typed back.

  CAN’T TODAY. SRY. PEP RALLY PRACTICE THEN HOMEWORK, DINNER, REHEARSAL. FUN FUN FUN! BUT HOW ABOUT TOMORROW?

  I sent the text and held my breath. He responded in about two seconds. When my phone beeped, I swear Peter flinched.

  TOMORROW NITE GOOD?

  I grinned. “He says tomorrow night,” I told Lauren, looking at the back of Peter’s head. His ears were a very deep shade of pink. I texted back.

  DEFINITELY.

  COOL. TXT ME UR ADDY & WILL PICK U UP @ 7.

  I showed the phone to Lauren and we both giggled. Although mine was more nervous than excited. With shaking fingers I texted him the info he needed, then pocketed my phone.

  The dance routine ended and Peter jumped up, clapping and whooping, so of course everyone else did the same. I stood up for my sister’s benefit and clapped for her, a satisfied smile on my lips. He could cheer for his JV girl as much as he wanted. I had my own hottie up my sleeve, and tomorrow night I was going to pull him out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  True

  The Studio. It had an oddly self-important name, this place where Claudia spent half her free time. The Studio. As if it was the only studio on the face of the planet. Or at least the only one worth mentioning.

  I glanced at my watch. I was early. Claudia’s class didn’t start until seven o’clock, and it was only 6:50. Rolling up onto my toes, I looked up and down the lazy side street on which the Studio was located. A woman walked her four large dogs along the opposite sidewalk, each of them so perfectly behaved their leashes weren’t even touching. A few doors down, several children let out a loud “hi-ya” in unison, working their way through tae kwon do drills. Then the clouds shifted and the setting sun glinted off a blue-and-silver sign near the corner, almost blinding me. When I could see again, I read the sign. MURDOCH’S OUTDOORS: THE HUNTING AND FISHING SPECIALISTS.

  My heart gave a flutter as my father’s warning rang in my ears. If Artemis showed up here with her temper on, she would be a serious threat to my existence, especially in my weakened human state. I thought of the arrow I’d left on the floor of the cafeteria and how useless it would have been anyway, without a bow. Perhaps it was time I armed myself. Just in case.

  I tossed my hair behind my shoulder and strolled over to this Murdoch’s establishment. There, displayed proudly in the window, was a tremendous hunting bow, so tall it would have come to my chin with its base resting on the ground. Next to it, a crossbow was propped against a fake rock, its loaded arrow facing the ceiling. There were bear traps and bludgeons and even a slingshot. I couldn’t believe my luck. How much did these things cost? Could I afford one with the paycheck I had coming to me tomorrow night? I felt a prickling sensation inside my mouth and realized I was salivating. I reached for the door.

  “True?”

  My hand fell and I turned. Claudia and her best friend, Lauren, stood before me, Claudia sporting pink tights, gray leg warmers, white slip-on sneakers, and a tiny black sweatshirt, and Lauren in black tights, a black leotard, gray shorts, and black sneakers.

  “Oh. Hello,” I said.

  Claudia’s eyes flicked over the camouflage netting strapped to the inside of the glass door.

  “Um, what’re you doing?” she asked, letting out a short laugh.

  “Shopping,” I replied.

  Their jaws dropped.

  “In there?” Lauren asked, stunned.

  “Do you, like, go fishing with your dad or something?” Claudia asked, slowly starting up the hill toward the Studio. Lauren and I fell into step with her.

  I snorted a laugh, imagining me and Ares sitting on a dock somewhere, peacefully letting our lines hit the water as we chatted about our lives. The sky suddenly falling in on top of us was far more likely.

  “No, I hunt,” I told her. “I was just going in to look at the bows and arrows.”

  “Omigod, no way,” Lauren said. “You, like, actually kill things?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “Omigod, I could never do that,” Lauren said, her brown eyes wide. “Like, kill Bambi?”

  “I don’t hunt fawns,” I said, screwing my face up.

  “But still. Hunting is so un-PC,” Lauren told me, flattening a hand in front of her. “Maybe you should find a normal hobby. Like soccer or something.”

  “We do have an archery team,” Claudia offered. “You could try that. The only things they shoot at are standing targets.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that.” We paused on the wide sidewalk in front of the Studio. A minivan pulled up and spewed out three more girls in tights before speeding off.

  “Yeah, it’s mostly guys, but it’s supposed to be a coed team,” Claudia said, lifting her hand to wave at the three skinny girls who trailed by. “You should try it. It’s good to be involved.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Lauren and Claudia looked at each other and laughed. “I don’t know. It’s fun,” Claudia said.

  Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Studio, I could see Claudia’s friends warming up their muscles, stretching, and then pirouetting across the room. I could see how they might enjoy this group activity, the camaraderie, the sharing of talent, the endorphins released by physical activity. But I was here to do a job. I didn’t have time for extracurriculars.

  “I actually came here just to see how it’s going,” I told Claudia, leaning against a blinking parking meter. “Have you gotten anywhere with Keegan?”

  “Um, totally!” Lauren said. “They’re going out tomorrow night.”

  “You are? That’s great!” I enthused. “We have to figure out a way for you to bump into Peter. Where’re you going?”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know yet,” Claudia replied. “And besides, after we made the plan, I realized it’s not gonna happen. Not on a Friday night before a game. Peter has this whole ritual. We used to order in pasta so he could carbo-load, and then we’d watch some action movie to get him pumped up for the game the next day. There’s no way he’s going to be out anywhere.”

  “Well, if he loves you—and I’m pretty sure he does—it can’t hurt to try,” I said. “I just got a phone, and I’m gonna go to the mall to get it activated. Tomorrow I’ll give you the number, and you can text me when you get where you’re going. Then I’ll find a way to get Peter there.”

  “If you say so.” Claudia shook her head. “This is so crazy.”

  “Crazy, but effective,” I replied.

  “I’m kind of starting to like you,” Lauren said, holding up her palm.

  I high-fived her, a ritual I’d seen happen countless times, but didn’t quite understand until I felt the satisfaction of my skin slapping against hers, like a punctuation of our mutual achievement. “Thanks.”

  “I don’t know if I can do it,” Claudia said. “What if it doesn’t work? What if he’s already, like, in love with that Josie girl?”

  “He’s not,” Lauren and I said at the same time, in the same assuring tone.

  “What makes you so sure?” she asked. “I mean, they’re always together and I—”

  “Hey, guys!”

  An adorable boy with lanky limbs and curly blond hair paused on his way into the Studio. He wore black tights and a blue zip hoodie and had a large battered duffel bag on his shoulder.

  “Hi, Lance!” the girls sang as Claudia pulled him in for a hug.

  “Ready to perfect our piece?” Claudia asked him.

  “You know it,” Lance replied. Then he tilted his head at me. “I’m Lance Turska.”

  “True Olympia,” I replied. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You as well. Anyway, I heard Madame Helene is handing out tickets for the recital so we can start selling them. We want a sold-out show next weekend! Are you inviting
Peter? It’d be cool if he came to one of these things.”

  “He doesn’t usually?” I asked.

  “He always has a practice or a game or something,” Claudia replied. “I’m guessing he’ll be busy again,” she hedged. Clearly she hadn’t told Lance about the breakup and wasn’t about to do it now. Maybe she’d never have to, if my plan did the trick.

  Lance sighed a sigh of the world-weary, which made no sense considering how fresh-faced and energetic he was. “That’s what happens when you go out with a football star. See you inside.”

  “He’s really never come to one recital?” I asked as Lance trotted off.

  “He came to The Nutcracker last Christmas,” Lauren offered.

  “Besides that, it was just the first one. The day he asked me out,” Claudia said, her eyes shining with nostalgia. “But that was in the spring, and his little sister was dancing. Then last spring he was at some football clinic. But I don’t mind. I would never expect him to miss a game to come see me dance, just like he’d never expect me to miss a recital to come see him play. It’s fine.”

  “Still. It would have been cool if he’d found some other way to support you, like you did for him by joining Boosters,” Lauren said.

  “Yeah, I guess. But ballerinas don’t have boosters. And he supported me in other ways.” She looked at me and lowered her voice. “Boy gives a killer foot rub.”

  She fell silent suddenly, obviously caught up in the memories and the emotions. My heart went out to her. It was clear she was in love with this boy. We needed to make him realize he loved her back.

  Claudia took a deep breath and sort of shook out her limbs like she was a wet dog shaking out her coat. “How did this get so negative? We have a plan, and the plan is going to work. Right, girls?”

  Lauren and I looked at each other and nodded. “Right.”

  I imagined Claudia and Keegan ensconced at an intimate table at some romantic restaurant when Peter burst in, grabbed Claudia, and kissed her like no one had ever been kissed.

  I rolled my shoulders back confidently. “Tomorrow night, we seal the deal.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  True

  I was getting better. I was. I had just sat through ninth-period art for forty-two minutes and had not once looked at Orion. Not once. Not even when the girl next to me had turned her easel toward the boy next to her with the word “Homecoming?” spelled out inside the shape of a big red heart and everyone had applauded. Of course, the easels had been set up in such a way that I couldn’t have seen him even if I’d craned my neck so far I’d fallen off my stool, but that was neither here nor there.

  When the bell rang, I pushed myself out of my seat, shouldered my bag, and speed-walked toward the hallway. I had to get to the gym for the pep rally, but before that, I wanted to find Claudia and give her a final pep talk (ironically) about tonight. The sand in my sand timer was getting close to the halfway mark, which meant we didn’t have that much time to make Peter Marrott wake up and smell the love. I didn’t need to sneak a peek at Orion to see if he was, by chance, sneaking a peek at me. I was focused. One hundred percent focused.

  It wasn’t my fault that I had to take a small detour and walk past Orion’s easel as he bent to gather his things into his backpack. Some girl had left her tennis bag in the aisle, so I really had no choice. As I passed behind him, I inhaled as deeply as I possibly could, longing for a whiff of his scent. Then my eyes fell on his easel and I froze. My throat went entirely dry.

  It was a painting of his arrow. The arrow pendant I had given him months ago inside our cabin in Maine. The arrow that now hung around my neck.

  Slowly, casually, I reached up and tucked the pendant under the collar of my white sweater. At that moment, Orion sat up and our eyes met.

  “Oh, hey!” he said with a smile.

  I searched his eyes for some spark of recognition. Surely if he remembered the arrow, he remembered me. There was nothing.

  “Hi.” My gaze darted past him to the painting.

  “Oh, don’t look at that,” he said, blushing deeply. “It sucks.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” I told him as he rose to his full height, shouldering his backpack. He was wearing his blue-and-white football jersey, the number twenty-two outlined in silver, and somehow the uniform made him even hotter. Maybe I really was becoming a human girl. Every last one had seemed to stop and almost faint every time a football player passed by in a jersey today. “Why did you . . . I mean, what made you paint that?”

  I rested my hand just below my collarbone, flattening it against the arrow beneath the cotton weave of my sweater. Orion’s brow knit as he looked at his own painting.

  “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “It’s weird. I’m always seeing that arrow in my mind for some reason.” He stared at it until someone dropped a tray of paintbrushes, and the clatter seemed to awaken him. “Who knows? Maybe I was a Native American warrior or something in a past life.”

  My heart lurched at the words “past life.” He had no clue how close he’d come to hitting on the truth.

  “Or maybe you’ve seen it somewhere before?” I suggested. “Does it maybe have some significance to you?”

  He frowned and lifted a shoulder. “I don’t think so.”

  As he turned away from me, I grabbed his arm to stop him. He looked down at my hand first, before meeting my eye.

  “Because some people say that a true artist paints what’s in his heart,” I said, my own heart slamming so hard against my rib cage it had to be bruising itself.

  Orion turned to fully face me. He looked deeply into my eyes, searching, searching, his face looming closer. I could scarcely breathe. He was remembering. Finally! He was remembering. I hooked my finger around the silver chain on my neck, ready to pull the arrow out.

  “Wow,” he said quietly. “That is the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  And then he laughed. My face burned brighter than the hot sun in the midday Death Valley sky. Anger burbled beneath my skin. Anger at him for not remembering and for mocking me. Anger at Zeus for sending him here to torture me. Anger at myself for continuing to put myself out there when clearly, I was only going to get rebuffed.

  But that was what love was about, right? Taking chances. Baring one’s soul. Too bad it hurt so damn badly.

  “Hey, True!”

  Wallace walked up to me, his backpack securely strapped to both shoulders. He looked handsome in a gray T-shirt with the word FRINGE across the front, and a pair of well-cut jeans.

  “How’s the phone working out for you?” he asked.

  “Good! Oh, I got the number activated last night. Let me give it to you,” I said.

  He whipped his own phone out of his back pocket. “Go.”

  I recited the digits. He typed them in, then snapped my picture and looked at it. “You are very photogenic,” he stated.

  I blushed. “Thank you.”

  “We’d better go. Gotta get set up for the pep rally.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I looked at Orion reluctantly. “Want to come?”

  “That’s okay,” he said stiffly. “I’m meeting someone anyway. And there she is now.”

  Then, without so much as a look over his shoulder, he turned and sauntered off down the hall, where he joined Darla Shayne. She ran her hand over his shoulder and down his arm, looking him over in an appraising, covetous way.

  Get off! I thought. Get away from him!

  They headed for the stairs together, and I narrowed my eyes, imagining the heel of her red shoe breaking, seeing her plummet down the stairs. As they reached the top step, she wobbled and I took in a breath, looking away. For a moment, I’d forgotten I could actually make it happen. I grabbed Wallace and stomped off toward the gym.

  Enough was enough. It was time to find Claudia and get this show back on the road. Before I slipped up and accidentally killed Darla Shayne.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Peter

  The entire team was gathered just
inside the door to the locker room, listening as the gym filled up with voices. Sneakers squeaked on the polished floor. There was a peal of feedback. People laughed and talked, and a couple of chants broke out. I grinned at my teammates. This was it. The first pep rally of the season. I couldn’t help it. I opened the door a sliver and peeked out. The bleachers were jam-packed, wall-to-wall.

  Gavin leaned in and whistled. “Man. This never gets old.”

  I closed the door and rubbed my hands together. “I know, right?”

  “I can’t believe we’re seniors,” Lester said, shaking his head. “This is our last first pep rally of the year.”

  The smile fell from my face. My heart thunked. “Way to be a downer, dude.”

  “Pete! You’re never gonna believe this!” Mitch Ross shoved his way through the crowd and stood panting in front of me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Claudia’s going out with some guy from St. Joe’s,” he said, delivering the news as if he was half-pissed to know it and half-psyched to be the one to tell it. “Tonight.”

  “What?” Gavin blurted.

  “Now that’s a downer,” Lester pointed out.

  Out on the court, Principal Peterson brought everyone to attention and started his opening speech. I swallowed hard, feeling as if I hadn’t had a thing to drink in days. “Do you know who it is?”

  Mitch shook his head. “Apparently, she’s keeping it on the DL or whatever. But what the eff, man? She’s dating the enemy? The night before our game?”

  The energy drained right out of me. What the hell was Claudia doing? And why? Did she hate me so much that she had to make me look like a total tool in front of everyone? Every single member of the team was staring at me. I had to keep it together. If I broke down right now—if I showed any weakness—they’d think I was a total loser.

  “Whatever, man. Claudia can do whatever the hell she wants to do,” I said. “I dumped her ass.”

  A few of the guys laughed. I saw them exchanging glances, and I knew I’d said the right thing. But inside, I was boiling. A guy from St. Joe’s? I couldn’t even imagine Claudia looking at someone else, let alone sitting at a table with someone else, laughing with someone else. . . .