Free Oh. My. Gods. by Tera Lynn Childs Page B

push-ups—while Coach Z paces back and forth. His white and blue track pants whoosh with every step.
    The apparel aside, he looks like he’s never seen the athletic side of a sporting event. I guess being part-god is no guarantee of physical perfection. Approaching ancient, over fifty at least, he has a beer gut to rival diehard football fans. A light jog looks like a stretch, let alone actually making it on a run.
    Maybe he coaches discus.
    “Everyone will select up to five events and will compete in those events for a position on the team. The top three finishers in each will automatically earn a slot, but the final roster rests at the coaches’ discretion. In distance running, there’s just one race. Six boys and six girls qualify. Any questions so far?”
    He looks right at me. There are at least sixty kids sitting on the field, but his question is only for me. I throw a sideways glance at Griffin, sitting near the back of the group with Adara between his legs and surrounded by the rest of the Ares clique. His piercing blue eyes are trained on me.
    I start to smile, but as soon as he notices me looking, he scowls and looks away. Boys can be so strange.
    When I don’t answer, Coach Z glances at his clipboard. “There are twenty-five events to choose from. Throwers stay here with me. Jumpers go with Coach Andriakos. Hurdlers with Coach Karatzas. Sprinters meet Coach Vandoros at the starting line. And distance runners, Coach Leonidas is waiting for you at the entrance to the tunnel.”
    Around me, everyone gets up and heads off toward their coaches. I know I am going to the tunnel, but I hold back, waiting to see where Griffin goes.
    Adara, her arms wrapped around his neck, gives him a quick kiss before bouncing off with the rest of the sprinters. He turns and sets off at a jog.
    Toward the tunnel.
    Omigod.
    Heart thumping in my chest, I follow close behind. From the second I saw him on the beach I thought he looked like a distance runner, but now I know it’s true.
    That’s one thing we have in common.
    “Ah, Miss Castro,” Coach Leonidas says as I walk through the tunnel, “you are a distance runner.” He smiles and rubs his hands together. “Excellent. Tell me about your background.”
    Griffin is in front of me and he turns to hear my answer.
    “Well,” I say, trying to focus on running and not the gorgeous hunk watching me with the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen, “I ran cross-country and long-distance track for three years at my old high school.”
    “How’d you do?” Griffin asks.
    I can’t tell if he’s teasing or asking, so I answer, “I won the Western Regional Championship twice.”
    “What about the third year?”
    This time I can tell he’s making fun—only to impress his obnoxious friends, of course. Why else would he be such a jerk when he was so nice to me this morning?
    Well, while wanting him to smile at me someday might include a laugh or two, I don’t actually want him laughing at me. It’s a fine line. “Freshman year I came in second.”
    He looks like he’s about to say something, but Coach Leonidas interrupts. “Wonderful,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll bring a lot to the team.”
    “Thanks, Coach Leo . . .”
    Okay, so Coach Z said his name, but I can’t remember how to pronounce it. Everything in this country is a tongue twister.
    “Call me Lenny,” he says. “Everyone does.”
    “Thanks,” I say again, “Coach Lenny.”
    “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way,” he says, “let’s get to the running.”
    Everyone cheers—still full of the excitement of the first day of the season and not yet worn down by miles and miles and miles of running.
    I cheer, too. After all the embarrassment and inferiority I’ve faced today, I’m ready to show them all what I’m really good at.
    “We’re going to start out with a nice, easy warm-up before we run the qualifying race.” Coach Lenny looks happy, like he loves running and thinks it’s