“Come on,” Adara shouts from the far side of the wall. “We have to start camp soon. I’d hate to leave you out here on the course.”
She grunts, like someone just elbowed her in the gut.
“We believe in you, Phoebe,” Stella says. “You just have to believe in yourself.”
I roll my eyes behind the blindfold. As if that’s not a cheesy, movie-of-the-week line. Still, I want to finish this course. To prove that I can handle anything they throw at me—the counselors and the gods.
“Okay,” I say to myself. “Think this through. If there’s no way around the wall. And I’m not about to make it over the wall. Then there’s only one other option . . .”
Suddenly I know exactly what I have to do.
I managed it that night on the beach, when my emotions took the reins, and on the cross-country course the other day. Now I just need to use my mind to achieve the same result consciously.
Placing my palms to the wall, I picture myself on the other side. I focus all my energy on having gotten myself through the expanse of two-by-fours. My mind shuts out all other stimuli. No sounds, no touches, no tastes, no smells. Just me, on the other side of this wall.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Someone’s arms wrap around me.
“You did it!” Stella shouts. “Omigods, you were so awesome!”
I reach up and rip off the blindfold. Sure enough, I’m on the other side of the wall, at the end of the obstacle course. Stella’s hugging me and shouting. Adara crosses her arms over her chest and smiles smugly. As if she’s the reason I made it through. Xander is clapping and smiling.
“We knew you would make it, Phoebola.”
Twisting out of Stella’s embrace, I turn to find Mom and Damian standing off to the side. Looking as proud as I’ve ever seen them.
I run into Mom’s arms. “You’re not supposed to get home until tonight.”
“When Damian told me what they were going to put you through this morning,” she says, squeezing me close, “I insisted we catch an earlier flight so we could be here to share in your triumph.”
She sounds so certain, like there was never a doubt that I would make it through this obstacle course. I was never that sure.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper.
As she tucks a loose clump of hair behind my ear, she says, “It killed me to be so far away while you were struggling.” She smiles painfully. “But you’re such a strong, independent girl, I knew you needed to process this on your own.”
“I know.” Besides, it’s not like she could have helped me or anything. This is kind of beyond the realm of her psychoanalytical expertise. And if I’d really needed her, she would have skipped out on her honeymoon in a flash.
I hug her a little tighter.
“Come on,” Damian says, clapping a hand to my shoulder. “Let’s go celebrate. I think you can skip camp for today.”
Emotions are boiling through me. I can’t believe I made it through the whole course blindfolded. I can’t believe I autoported through the wall. But most of all, I can’t believe I heard Dad’s voice in my head.
After everyone has gone to bed, I sit down at my desk and power up my laptop. While I’m waiting, I dig into my pocket and pull out the merit badges Stella gave me after dinner. I pin them onto the bulletin board above my desk, next to the ones I’ve already earned. A dozen little badges of honor. I’m still getting used to the idea that my powers might actually be under control.
The beeping and whirring stops and I click open my IM. I don’t really expect my girls to be online—it’s crazy early in L.A. and I have no idea if Cesca even has Internet access in Paris—but amazingly enough, the smiley faces next to both their user names are bright yellow.
Cesca starts chatting before I can even say hello.
PrincessCesca: about time!
LostPhoebe: hi!!!
PrincessCesca: I only have a few
PrincessCesca: have to meet François in twenty
LostPhoebe: François?
GranolaGrrl: new French bf
LostPhoebe: you’ve only been there like a week!
PrincessCesca: not my bf
PrincessCesca: but he is deliciously yummy
I can’t help laughing. Leave it to Cesca to find a hot French boyfriend in record time. She never seems to have trouble attracting a guy—she just never seems to want to hold onto them for very long. Maybe this one will be different.
GranolaGrrl: speaking of bfs . . . what happened with yours?
LostPhoebe: we’re totally back together
LostPhoebe: I can’t believe I thought he was cheating on me
PrincessCesca: wait, what? you and G broke up?
LostPhoebe: only for a weekend
GranolaGrrl: I don’t believe in saying I told you so
GranolaGrrl: but I told you so!
LostPhoebe: I know
PrincessCesca: a girl makes one little trip to France and all hell breaks loose
I can just picture Cesca, crossing her arms over her chest and pursing her perfectly glossed lips in annoyance. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her and Nola.
LostPhoebe: any updates on visiting Serfopoula?
PrincessCesca: my sched is pretty busy
PrincessCesca: but I can always sneak away for a weekend
GranolaGrrl: the grant committee met
For several long, torturous seconds I stare at the blinking cursor. Waiting. Hoping. Waiting. It’s not like Nola to make us sweat like this.
LostPhoebe: and . . . ???