Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

Nicole must be mistaken.
Griffin Blake is a really nice guy.
“Welcome to the Academy track and cross-country team tryouts,”
Coach Zakinthos says. “Some of you are familiar with the process,
but for new students I will explain.”
It may be my imagination, but I think he is talking only to me.
Everyone else seems bored by his little welcome speech.
We’re sitting on the soccer field at the center of a big stone stadium
that’s on the far side of the campus from Damian’s house. It
looks like a mini version of the Coliseum in Rome, complete with
rows and rows of stone benches. We’ve already done group stretching
and some stuff to get our blood flowing, like jumping jacks and
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?”
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