Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

defines their world in terms of ‘object’ and ‘other’ then one only
knows what the object is and what the other is not.”
Stella rolls her eyes. Damian nods. I have learned—after many
years of theoretical nonsense talk—to ignore the psychobabble. Trying
to follow along only ends in headache.
“Besides,” Damian says, giving Stella one last disapproving look
before smiling at me, “you are not the only non-Greek to attend
the Academy. We are primarily a boarding school and many, if not
most, of our students are from abroad. Our ancestors were not,
shall we say, confined to a particular geographical area.”
Right. I remember all those stories about Zeus and Apollo and
the other gods jumping around from one seduction to the next.
There are probably little mini-gods all over the world.
Stella smiles tightly, as if saying, Whatever.
“You must be Phoebe,” she says, stepping forward and offering
me a hand. “I’m Stella . . . your new sister.”
Now, I’ve always wanted a sister, but not one like this. In my
mind I picture a little girl with ringlets and dimples who follows
me everywhere and copies my every move to the point of driving
me crazy. Stella is not a follower. That much I can see in the icy gray
shallows of her eyes. She crushes those foolish enough not to fall
into place behind her. I am not that foolish.
“Yeah,” I say, taking her hand and letting her pull me up. I’m
shocked when she doesn’t let go halfway and send me falling back
on my butt. “Nice to meet you.” The words choke out around the
gagging sensation in my throat.
Then she shocks the living crap out of me by pulling me into a
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