"Oh My Gods" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tera Lynn Childs)

I press my nose to the window, eyes following the meandering Seine. Even though we werenтАЩt staying in Paris even an hour, I had studied a map in the Air France magazine just in case the miracu-lous happens and we miss our connection, forcing an overnight layover. Knowing Mom, sheтАЩd probably find us a train to Athens.

Anyway, a short distance up the river I see it. Though it should be practically invisible from however many thousand feet and however 16





many miles away, the lacy iron structure of the Eiffel Tower stands out against the sea of grassy, tree-filled parks and old stone buildings. In my dreams I imagine running the 1665 steps from ground level to the observation deck at the top, hitting the wall halfway up and pushing through, finding my second wind and bounding onto the third level like Rocky running up the steps in front of the Phila-delphia Museum of Art. I imagine IтАЩm like Dad tucking the football into his elbow and leaping over a bunch of defensive backs to run forty yards to the end zone in the AFC playoffs.

тАЬWeтАЩll come back one day,тАЭ Mom whispers. тАЬI promise.тАЭ

I hadnтАЩt even noticed her take the seat next to me. Running fantasies almost always leave me oblivious. Especially ones that lead to thinking about Dad. The only time IтАЩm less aware of the world around me is when IтАЩm actually running.

I blink up at her, envying her beautiful green eyes that look so much more striking against our chestnut hair than my brown ones. Her eyes are glowing more than ever and I know itтАЩs because of Damian.

Turning back to the window, I find the Eiffel Tower gone and all I see is the rapidly rising asphalt of the runway.

Great, one step closer to stupid Serfopoula.

The only thing remotely exciting on the flight to AthensтАФif you donтАЩt count the woman trying to smuggle a hedgehog onto the planeтАФis actually catching it. We run through the airport like we have Cerberus biting at our heels, managing to get directions to the wrong gate twiceтАФsometimes I think the French try to be unhelp-17



fulтАФand have to go through security again before sliding into the gate seconds before they close the door.

I consider slowing us downтАФmaybe playing the bathroom card or the cramps cardтАФbut I have a feeling I would lose all my pouting points for a stunt like that. Besides, better to get it over with rather than draw out the inevitable.

By the time we land in AthensтАФafter three and a half hours of listening to the two women in my row chattering nonstop in enthusiastic, rapid-fire GreekтАФI am almost happy to be on Grecian soil.

Until we find him waiting for us at baggage claim.

Damian Petrolas, my new stepdad.

If not for the fact that he married my mom and dragged us halfway around the world and is making me go to his stupid school, IтАЩm sure I wouldnтАЩt think he was such a bad guy. HeтАЩs charming, the kind of guy that makes you feel like a princess, even when you want to hate himтАФwhich I do. HeтАЩs tall, like over six feet, and with his black hair dotted around the temples with gray, he looks wise and powerful. Not bad characteristics for the headmaster of a private school, I guess.

Mom, forgetting all sense of decorum and public decency, drops her not-insubstantial carry-on and runs for him, practically throwing herself in his arms. I am left to lug her ninety poundтАФor I should say kilos since IтАЩm in a metric country nowтАФbriefcase the rest of the way to the carousel.

My backpack weighs nothing in comparison.

тАЬIтАЩve missed you so much,тАЭ Mom says between the stream of kisses sheтАЩs laying on his face.

тАЬAnd I, too,тАЭ he says, тАЬhave missed you.тАЭ

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Then, with no consideration for my sensitive stomach, he takes her face in his hands and plants a big, open-mouthed kiss on her lips. And Mom opens her mouth right back.