Pinehurst: A Magical Olympian Adventure-Young Adult Romantic Adventure/Fantasy Novel

by Grane, Nicole

  “It’s not that simple,” he snapped. His eyes looked angry for the first time.

  My smile felt more like a sneer. “Hey. You want to be my trainer, fine. But you will not tell me who I can go out with.” I removed his hand from my arm and stomped up the steps to the dorm not giving him a second look. Yea Friday!

  Chapter 11

  Well, the weekend officially sucked. And not just for me. Half of the Junior class was feeling the aftereffects of the Ragno with various degrees of sickness.

  Ms. Spicer, who’d been reprimanded for her “serious lack of judgment,” was spending the entire weekend in the infirmary, sicker than a dog I’d heard.

  “It’s lunchtime already?” I whined, realizing that half the day had passed by, and I was still in bed. Iris brought me a bowl of soup from The Kitchen. I’d been in bed for the past nineteen hours, waiting for Death to take me—the jerk never came.

  “You look awful.”

  “Thanks, Iris. It’s nice to see you too.” I took the soup and sat down in my “comfy chair” to enjoy the only good thing this Saturday afternoon had to offer—chicken noodle.

  “Maybe you should go to the infirmary.” She eyed me carefully.

  “Even if I did, there’s no room. Gillian said the entire ward is completely full. They’ve never had so many sick students at once. They sent her back to her bed to rest. Besides, I’d rather die in my own bed.” I leaned my head back against the chair. “It’s a good thing not everyone had spells yesterday,” I added. “You’d be sick too.”

  A malicious smile crossed Iris’s face. “Stacy’s there.”

  “What? Where?”

  “In the infirmary. She got sick all over her lab partner in biology!” Iris squealed over the juicy news. She toppled over on the bed, laughing hysterically.

  “She threw up on her lab partner?” Eww. I remembered how close I’d been to throwing up on Antonio. I’d thanked God quietly many times over for sparing me that embarrassment. I almost felt sorry for Stacy. Almost.

  “Yeah . . .” Iris cried. She couldn’t stop laughing.

  The door to my room flung open. “Hey! I’ve been knocking.” Aubree stood in the doorway, glowering.

  Okay . . . what’s her problem? “Hey Aubree, what’s up?”

  Iris took one look at Aubree and irrupted into a state of hysteria that would have startled a hyena.

  “Is she still laughing about Stacy throwing up?”

  I thought about that. It was funny, but not that funny. I shrugged.

  “I suppose she told you who the lucky victim was?” Aubree snapped, not bothering to wait for my answer. She folded her arms across her chest in a huff.

  I took in the outraged expression on her face and cringed, fearful that I already knew the answer.

  Aubree shouted over Iris’ laughter. “IT WAS ME!”

  “Oh Aubree,” Iris cried, wiping tears from her face. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s not funny, but I just keep picturing—”

  “Here!” Aubree thrust an envelope at me. “I’ll see you later.” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

  I set the soup aside, opened the envelope, and pulled out a small piece of paper.

  “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!” I jumped to my feet; the sudden adrenaline-rush no doubt due to the instant fury that shot through my veins.

  Iris had stopped laughing and sat up. Her eyes, still filled with tears, were wide with shock.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled at her shaken expression.

  I read the note once more, just in case by some miracle I’d misread it. “What the hell is he thinking? He knows I’m sick! The jerk!” I rifled through my dresser drawers and found a clean gym outfit.

  “What’s going on?” Iris rose from the bed, eying me carefully.

  “Antonio!” I growled. “He wants me in the gym right now to make up yesterday’s class I missed.”

  “But you’re sick!” Iris shrieked. “And its Saturday . . . we were going to hang out.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Apparently, Antonio doesn’t give a flip if I’m sick. I’ll see you later.” I stormed out, slamming the door behind me.

  * * *

  I found Antonio in the weight room looking incredibly hot in a tight fitting t-shirt and sweats—the creep. If he thought his good looks were going to get him out of this, he was sadly mistaken. I was going to give him a piece of my mind. I hardened my expression.

  “Good, you got my note,” he smiled angelically.

  I tossed my gym clothes to the floor. Damn! I forgot to brush my hair.

  “I see you’ve already dressed.” He eyed my sweats and frumpy t-shirt I’d been wearing for the past two days and smiled.

  I pictured at the very least seven different ways I could wipe that smirk off his face. His smile broadened. No doubt Antonio now had a mental picture of just how I’d planned to wipe that smirk off his face. All seven images I’m sure played flawlessly over in his mind. The element of surprise would never be mine.

  “Humph.” He could at least act like he was nervous.

  “Oh, I am.” He grinned at my death like stare. My eyes narrowed.

  “We need to start working on basic combat maneuvers.”

  “Today? You couldn’t have waited until Monday?” I had my hands on my hips, looking extremely put out. Not to mention un-attractively pasty. But who cared. I was moving on. I was with Roland now . . . I think?

  Antonio’s cool look was momentarily shaken. “I’ve increased your training to seven days a week—”

  “Seven days a week? But that’s going to ruin my whole social life.”

  “If you hope to pass finals . . . there’s no other way. Your . . . ‘social life’ will have to wait.” He stifled a satisfying grin.

  I sucked in my cheeks. This just completed the weekend from hell I’d been having. Not only did I have to train while sick, but I also had a rigorous seven-day a week butt-kicking to look forward to.

  “You can’t be serious.” I searched his expression, desperately seeking humor. There was none.

  “I am. Now stand here and try to block me.”

  Try? I was going to knock him on his ass! Not only did he not care that I was still sick, but he expected me to spar with him? Seven days a week? He was so going down!

  Antonio’s leg came around and swiped under my feet—knocking me on my butt before I could finish my inner rant.

  “You weren’t even trying!”

  “I wasn’t ready!” I yelled.

  “Then let’s try again. This time, why don’t you spend more time defending yourself instead of plotting my demise.” There was an arrogant look about him, which was very un-Antonio like. Or was it? Maybe he’d just been pretending to be nice? Whatever, It was his turn to eat mat.

  I braced myself. There was no way he was going to do that—

  Boom!

  I was starting to become familiar with the ceiling in the gym. We’d gone over the same move a half a dozen times now, and each time I’d ended up on my back, staring at the same light fixture. How in the world had someone managed to paint the word “HI” on the ceiling?

  “Again!” Antonio shouted, bringing me out of my quiet place. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat. I honestly didn’t know why he’d kept doing the same move over and over? I obviously wasn’t getting it!

  “That’s why we’re doing it over and over. And we’ll keep doing it until you do get it,” he added sharply.

  “What’s your problem?” I snapped, as I rose to my feet.

  “What are you talking about?” He had the nerve to look meek.

  “I mean, what’s this really about?” I held my arms out, motioning to the training room. “Why are you pushing me so hard?”

  “I told you. You need extra practice. It’s nothing more than that.”

  “Really?” Now, I may not know a lot about the way guys think, but I believe it’s safe to assume, that when a guy hauls your sick butt out of bed and says it’s because you need “extra t
raining” that can’t wait . . . he’s probably full of crap.

  I was just about ready to call the bullshit card when Antonio dropped to the floor, and swung his leg around, taking me out with one swipe. Again! Only this time I landed on my stomach.

  I tried to flip around fast, my legs getting tangled up with his. I reached out, blocking his arms from restraining me. Somehow, I found myself on top of him, straddling him awkwardly. I could feel the hot burn of flush, branding my face. I’d never been in such a position with a boy before. I didn’t know if it was embarrassment, or excitement I felt? I did know that being this close to Roland would not stir such an emotion inside me. Damn if I wasn’t confused. And why was Antonio looking at me as if I was his next breath?

  Antonio’s hands were on my waist, gripping it tightly. His eyes smoldered like the embers in a fire, bright and beautiful. “Focus!” he growled below me, his expression hardening. For a moment I thought he was scolding himself.

  With skilled precision, he’d gripped my wrists with one hand, and held the side of my neck with the other. I couldn’t break free. A small flame rose inside me. I felt mad all of a sudden. I mean really mad. His hold was firm—too firm. It freaked me out. I’d never been restrained like this, and I didn’t like it.

  Antonio flipped me onto my back, and just like that, our roles were reversed. He was straddling me now. My wrists were slammed against the mat, the weight of his body pressing hard against them. He’d won!

  Antonio was leaning over me, his face inches from mine. His brown hair, now tussled, hung loosely around his face. His breathing was loud and uneven like my own. But his wasn’t due to exerting himself. There was a hunger in his eyes as he watched me struggle beneath him. His gaze settled on my lips.

  He wanted to kiss me; I knew it! It was just like on the track field, only now Antonio looked as if he wanted this kiss even more. No matter how much he tried to hide it, here, close like this, his body touching mine, the desire was unmistakable. I’d seen it in movies a hundred times.

  Now, this could have been considered intimate if it weren’t for the sudden “gotcha” look on Antonio’s face. Was he toying with me? My eyes narrowed. Rage emanated from every fiber of my being. Embarrassment claimed me once again. Why did he have to keep making me think he liked me? I growled mentally. Game over. I didn’t care how much I wanted to kiss this guy. I wanted him off me and I wanted him off now!

  Antonio flew back. His body crashing into a nearby wall with such force, his eyes crossed for a moment before he slid down it, landing on the floor in a dazed heap.

  I stared at him in disbelief as I scrambled to my feet. I held my hands as they shook. I wasn’t sure I could even speak. “Did I . . . do . . . that?” The words came out broken.

  Antonio rose to his feet, rubbing the back of his head as he walked back over to me.

  I backed away from him. Afraid I might hurt him again.

  “I want you to do it again,” he commanded lightly.

  “What? No! Get away from me!” I shrugged away from his outstretched arms.

  “Evie.”

  “I mean it, Antonio. Stay away from me. I don’t want to hurt you.” I meant it. I’d been mad at him for playing with me, but there had to be something seriously wrong with me. Either I just imagined that I threw Antonio across the room with my mind, or I really did. Either way, I was cracking up.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, Evie.” He spoke with such certainty, I almost believed him—almost. Did he just miss me throwing him across the room at warp speed?

  He grinned, no doubt having heard my thoughts. Antonio turned his attention to a punching bag that lay in a corner across the room. My eyes followed. Without warning, Antonio had the bag flying at me.

  Too shocked to move, I stood there. Waiting for the bag to collide with me and knock me into next week. It stopped short, dropping with a thud at my feet.

  No. Freaking. Way! “That did not just happen.” I’d done small things like setting off the sprinklers, or tripping that busboy so he’d dump that plate of spaghetti on Stacy. I could even magic little items around me. But thrusting an object that heavy across the room at full speed and stopping it instantaneously? I’d never seen anything like it—not even me stopping that book mid-air, when Stacy had flung it at me.

  “It’s the same idea,” Antonio promised. “Now, send it back.”

  I stared at Antonio as if he’d spoke in a different language. “Did you just ask me to send it back?”

  “I know you can do it. You’re stronger than you think.” A look of excitement claimed him.

  I thought about that. “Even if I could, why would I want to? What’s the point?”

  “Being able to move heavy objects with your mind has its advantages; especially in the Underworld.”

  “Like I’ll ever be going there,” I pointed out sharply.

  Antonio’s excitement slipped from his face.

  Why was he looking at me like that? And why did I have the sickened feeling that Antonio knew something I didn’t? “Right?” My voice cracked. “Why would I ever be going there?”

  He smiled. Not the dreamy, Antonio smile that made me want to eat him up for dessert, but a sympathetic smile. One that said: you poor thing, if you only knew. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything. We’ll pick up on this again tomorrow.” He started walking away.

  I stood there, looking after him. He didn’t mean to “imply anything?” Was he kidding? This had nothing to do with finals. There was something going on and Antonio was going to tell me. One way or another, I was going to find out what he was hiding.

  “But not today, Darling,” He shouted over his shoulder, still walking away.

  I hated that he eavesdropped on my personal conversations in my head. I hated it even more that he knew something I didn’t.

  I glowered at the punching bag that lay still at my feet. With little more thought than I used to collapse Stacy’s desk, I lifted the bag and hurtled it over Antonio’s head, stopping him short. He spun around; his eyes were as wide with surprise as mine.

  “What else do you need me to do?” I breathed, afraid to doubt him now—I’d just hurled a punching bag through the air using my mind after all! If there was even the slightest chance Antonio was right, that I was going into the Underworld, I wanted to be prepared.

  Chapter 12

  We spent the next several weeks training. Antonio and I met before school now as well. He was trying to make the most of the time we had left before finals. I, however, secretly hoped it was because he was madly in love with me and couldn’t stand being away from me—wishful thinking on my part. If Antonio was in love with me, he wasn’t going to let me know about it. I’d sure like to read his mind for a change.

  Antonio ran me to death. Pushed my body beyond its limits in the weight room, and my mind . . . well . . . he was pushing that too. He had me throwing objects as fast as he did now. The point of all this . . . who knew? But something told me it unfortunately had to do with that little trip to Hell Antonio had hinted about. Could my life possibly suck anymore?

  * * *

  “Evie, I haven’t seen you in days.” Iris was in her usual mood—worried about everything! “The dance is next Friday and Roland said he doesn’t even know if he still has a date, or not. He hasn’t gotten to spend any time with you outside of class.”

  “What do you mean he doesn’t know if he has a date or not? I told him yes!”

  I hoped he was still taking me to the dance. My dad had a dress shipped a week and a half ago. I opened my closet and pulled out a garment bag. I still hadn’t let any of the girls see it yet. I tried it on when it arrived and it fit like a dream. Aside from that, I hadn’t taken it out of the bag. I wasn’t about to get my first prom dress dirty before I had a chance to wear it. I hung the bag back on the hook and closed the closet door.

  “It’s not like anyone’s had a chance to talk to you lately,” Iris continued, not skipping a beat. She actually looked hur
t.

  “Iris, I’m sorry. I don’t have a choice. There are only two months left before my field trials.” What started as a defensive response, turned out sounding desperate: I really had no idea how I was going to pass those tests. Along with Antonio’s private instruction, Gunny had a sick sense of humor and thought it was time to throw me into the mix with the rest of the guys. Lots of protesting moans filled the room that day—the guys complained too.

  “Well, you’re free tomorrow, right?” Iris interrupted my mental pity-party.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Remember? Gina Von Rotmund is coming to announce the volleyball players that will go on to the Junior Division’s team!” Iris squealed excitedly. “She’s even bringing several of the star players! I heard Vlad’s going to be here, too!”

  Iris was in near hysterics now. Not that I blamed her. Vlad Smirnov was the hunkiest hunk that ever graced the cover of Mageian Beach Volleyball. He was twenty-two. Blonde, blue-eyed, and all man! Dang! I’d spent so much time in that gym the last few weeks I’d missed all the playoff games.

  I was glad however, that Iris’ mood had perked up. Mine wasn’t so glum anymore either. This event had been the talk of the school for the past three weeks. Many of the wannabe Slayers were so psyched up about it they could hardly concentrate in gym. Every one of them aspired to make the team and go on to be world famous players—they weren’t fooling me. Every one of these guys had visions of hot bikini-tanned girls fawning all over them.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there,” I said. With the rest of the female population, drooling!

  I left Iris for my after-school-practice. All the guys were there now. With only two months to go, everyone was on edge, desperate to push their bodies to the limit. They wanted to be Slayers so badly; you could taste it in the air. That and boy sweat—gross!

  “Hollyander!”

  I jumped. I’d been practicing my round-kicks on a punching bag and missed my target completely; thanks to Gunny’s sneak approaches. That man could make the dead jump!