Goddess Boot Camp by Tera Lynn Childs

exactly a model student. He got expelled in Level 10. He’s actually a year older than the rest of the Level 13s because he was gone for an entire school year.”
    Hmm. The mystery-shrouded rebel boy gets even more mysterious. Maybe that’s why Stella’s attracted to him. He’s the complete opposite of her kiss-up preppy-girl style.
    “What did he do?”
    “Petrolas kept it quiet.” Griffin wipes a sheen of sweat off his forehead, then runs his hand through his lush curls. “No one thought he’d ever be back.”
    I wonder how someone gets expelled from the Academy—where students zap one another (secretly) every day—and then readmitted? Maybe Stella knows what happened. She can be deviously determined when she wants to be. And where Xander is concerned, she is clearly motivated. I don’t really get the attraction, though. I mean, he has that rebel-boy image going for him, if you like that kind of thing. Which she clearly does. Me? I prefer the heroic athlete type. I mean, how many girls get to date a descendant of Hercules? One. Literally. Griffin’s the only one, and he’s all mine.
    Of course at first I thought Griff was the bad-boy type, but that turned out to be only one thin layer of his personality. Maybe there’s something deeper in Xander, too.
    Watching Griff from the corner of my eye, I smile. I don’t think I could have dreamed up a more perfect guy.
    “Can we run in the morning tomorrow?” he asks.
    “Sure,” I say, though I’m a little disappointed at the thought of getting up early. It’s bad enough I have camp every day on my summer vacation. But better to run early with Griffin than alone at any other time. “Any particular reason?”
    “Aunt Lili wants me to go to Serifos with her to stock up on fresh berries.”
    As we kick up our pace a notch, I try to ignore the sour feeling in my gut. Maybe I just imagined the hint of guilt in his voice.
     
     
     
    “I found several promising exercises in my files,” Stella says as we stack up our dishes and carry them to the kitchen.
    I quickly rinse mine off and set them in the near-ancient dishwasher—seriously, it’s amazing this thing even has electricity. When it runs, the whole house roars like we’re keeping a Cyclops in the basement.
    Turning and leaning a hip against the counter as Stella adds her dishes next to mine, I wait for her to say more. She carefully rearranges my dishes in the bottom tray. Like the dishwasher cares if the plates are all in the same quadrant.
    “I’d like to try the first one tonight,” she finally says. “I think it will really help you get in touch with your powers.”
    Her voice is very calm and reassuring, like an elementary-school teacher’s. I’m instantly on alert.
    “What exercise is that?” I ask warily.
    She closes the dishwasher. “It will be easier if I show you.”
    Ten minutes later, we’ve pushed the furniture aside in the living room and we’re sitting pretzel style on the floor facing each other. Though I try to keep my distance, Stella inches closer until our knees are practically touching. She reaches forward and takes my hands, placing them palm up on my knees.
    This reminds me of the yoga class Nola once dragged me to. Not really my thing. If Stella starts talking about meditation and asking me to “om” to the goddess Shiva, I’m outta here.
    “The exercise is called ‘Inner Contact,’ ” she explains, setting her hands palm up on her knees, too. “The goal is for you to locate the source of power in your body.”
    Next she’ll be spouting Hindi and directing me into the downward-facing dog position.
    “Close your eyes,” Stella instructs, her voice soft, melodic. “I am going to lead you through your body, and each time I say an area, I want you to focus all your energy on that part of your body. Picture your powers glowing from that spot, illuminating the entire room. Okay?”
    I nod. I also roll my eyes. Thankfully Stella can’t see, though, since my eyes