"I've found my champion." Hermes peered through the crack in the temple wall. "Finish creating the passage, my friend."
"Are you certain?" Caerus sounded bored. "These time passages aren't a simple matter, you know.
None of the other gods could even begin to—"
"I know," Hermes interrupted.
"That's why I asked you to help me. Trust me.
It will be worth the effort if we succeed." He smiled.
Caerus smiled back, looking more interested now. "True," he said.
"Zeus will never figure out where you found your champion!"
Hermes didn't respond. He was watching the mortal boy again.
It wasn't easy to see through the tiny crack in the wall—curse Caerus and his laziness!
But Hermes could see enough. The athlete was handsome and strong, his muscles rippling as he ran.
Other mortals were chasing the boy, but he outpaced them easily.
Suddenly the boy stopped. He threw something on the ground and then leaped around gracefully.
"Is he celebrating his victory in the footrace?" Hermes thought. Watching him, Hermes had no idea.
The ways of mortals were often strange, and usually not worth puzzling over.
But Hermes could tell that this mortal was something special.
"Finish the passage," he told Caerus again. "We don't have time to waste if we want to have him ready."
"Good game, Brody," Coach Smith said as Brody jogged off the field with the rest of the football team.
"Yeah, I know." Brody puffed out his chest. "Thanks, Coach. Do you think we'll win the championship this year?"
Another player glanced over. "If you keep making touchdowns, Brody? Definitely!" he said.
Several of Brody's other teammates agreed, though some remained quiet. A few looked unhappy.
Brody wasn't surprised. He was only a freshman, but he played better than any of the older kids.
That had to be embarrassing for them. Brody didn't care, though.
They should be glad he was on the team.
Everyone said he was the best player to attend the high school in years.
Maybe he was the best player ever.
Brody headed into the locker room. He showered, changed his clothes, and went back outside.
A teammate waved good-bye. "Are you ready for that science test tomorrow?" he called.
Brody frowned at him. "Who cares about science?"
The truth was, he hadn't studied for the test yet.
Science was hard for him—even harder than most of his other classes.
But so what? The coach was already saying that Brody was sure to win a college scholarship when the time came.
Brody didn't care much about going to college, but he loved the idea of playing college football.
After that he'd probably be drafted by the professional league, and then he'd be rich.
He wouldn't need to know about science to play football.
The only schooling he'd need was enough math to add up all his money!
As Brody was thinking about that, a girl stepped in front of him.
He almost crashed into her, but he stopped just in time.
"Watch it," he said. "I'm trying to walk here."
"I need to talk to you." The girl sounded annoyed.
Brody stared at her. She looked familiar. "Hey, don't you ride my bus?"
"Yes." The girl sounded even more annoyed now. "I sit in the front seat.
Every single day since school started. I'm Julia."
"Oh. Uh, I'm Brody."
"I know." Julia rolled her eyes. "I'm supposed to write an article about you for the school newspaper."
"Really?" Brody shrugged. "There was an article about me in there three weeks ago.
I guess it's time for another one." He laughed loudly.
Julia didn't laugh. "Just so you know, I don't care about football.
They're making me do this because the reporter who usually writes the sports stories is sick."
"Whatever." Brody started walking. "I'm on my way to the bus stop.
You can interview me if you can keep up."
Julia broke into a jog to match his pace. "Can't you hold still for a second?
This won't take long." She looked at her notebook.
"What's your favorite thing about playing on the football team?"
That got Brody's interest. He loved talking about himself.
He stopped and leaned against the brick wall of the gymnasium.
"Well . . . ," he said. "My favorite thing about playing football is that I'm so great at it.
It's fun being the star of the team." He flexed his biceps like a bodybuilder.
"Hmm." Julia didn't look impressed by that, or by his answer either, but she scribbled a few notes.
"What valuable lessons have you learned from your teammates so far?"
That question wasn't nearly as interesting as the first one, in Brody's opinion.
"What kind of article are you writing, anyway?" he said.
"Readers won't care about stuff like that.
Maybe you should wait until that sick reporter gets back and let him write the story."
He started to walk away. Then he felt Julia grab his arm.
She had a strong grip for such a nerdy girl.
"Stop," she said, sounding annoyed. "I told you, I need to—"
Whoosh!
A sudden blast of air and sound interrupted her.
The bricks of the gym wall seemed to crackle and melt.
They pulled apart, leaving a narrow opening just tall and wide enough for a person to step through.
Brody felt Julia's grip on him tighten.
As he looked through the crack, his eyes widened in shock.
There was no sign of the gym interior through that crack in the wall.
Instead he saw a strange, shadowy space with stone walls. Two tall figures stood there.
One of the figures leaned through the crack.
He had curly blond hair and looked a few years older than Brody. His eyes glowed bright green.
"Hey . . . Ow!" Brody yelped as the mysterious figure grabbed him by the hair and yanked him through the crack.