I pulled my hand from the statue, not wanting to look like a complete idiot in case any one noticed how long I’d been touching the stupid thing. A dull ache in the back of my head pushed my thoughts away, as if making room for more pain. I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten, hoping the headache wouldn’t grow to skull-shattering like this morning.
And that’s when I felt I was being watched.
I opened my eyes and turned towards my friends. They were near the front of the temple and not paying me any attention. Good. But then who was? Self-consciousness sifted its way through me, twisting my nerves into sailor knots. Down the expansive hall on my other side, a figure stood, motionless. My tongue wasn’t the only thing that felt frozen in ice. My breath hitched and I took a step back. The semi-attractive Greek boy, Henry, who’d followed me all around
Don’t get me wrong, having any kind of boy, let alone a Greek one, follow me around added bonus points to the constantly dipping Richter scale of my self-confidence. But it started to get more than creepy when I kept seeing him at each exhibit, and to tip the creep-factor, he introduced himself. Not wanting to be the next on some freak’s human trafficking list—because I’m that compulsive over safety—I had escaped into the crowd of my classmates.
To be at Apollo’s temple in Delphi, an hour-and-a-half bus trip from