Page 45 of The Wild Zone

Olivia pulled off her mask. “Come on, Katie. Are you even trying?”

“Seriously?” I gawked and turned to Mom.

She tilted her head. “You are not anticipating your opponent’s attacks. Is your mind elsewhere?”

Olivia snorted. “Space cadet.”

“Olivia!” Mom frowned at her, and my sister dropped her cocky smile. Mom turned her attention back to me. “You need to focus, Katie. Stop thinking about boys and bubble gum.”

I stared at her. “Right. Because those two things are all I talk about.”

I never talked about them.

“You should be more like your sister.” Mom pointed at Olivia.

I scowled. Olivia suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“I’m going to get a soda,” she said, and disappeared into the house.

“Don’t drink the last Sunkist!” I shouted after her. “That’s mine!”

As she walked off, Mom leaned toward me. In her denim romper and sandals, with her black hair pulled back in a scrunchie bun, she could’ve been Any Mom, USA, but her eyes were so intense I always found it hard to meet her gaze. She looked at me the same way she looked at targets on the shooting range.

“Katie, by the time I was your age, I was attending Olympic training camps. I won my first official medal at nineteen. Will you be able to say the same?”

I shrugged. “It depends. I can eat a whole pickle in a minute. Is there a medal for that?”

Mom pounded her fist against her thigh. “Aigo, Katie! Be serious! Olivia is already exceeding expectations in fencing, sharpshooting, equestrianism….” She ticked them off on her fingers.

“So then why do you need me to be perfect?” I asked.

Mom’s face softened. She grabbed my hand. “Because I know you are capable of greatness. No mistakes, Katie. Only successes.”

I snorted. “Everything I’ve ever done says otherwise.”

Mom squeezed my hand. “You want further proof? You were born of a god.”

My mom had never kept Ares a secret from me. I’d grown up hearing about him, as if my godly parentage had been just another of my mom’s many personal triumphs, another impossible standard I was supposed to live up to.

“A god who wants nothing to do with me,” I reminded her.

Mom tsked again. “Do you know how I won your father over? By being a champion among champions and always besting my opponents. That is what the god of war loves.”

I pressed my lips together. “So you’re saying Dad won’t love me unless I’m a winner?”

Mom’s expression hardened and she let go of me. “No, Katie. He will love you no matter what.”

“Is that why he keeps refusing every letter and package I send him?”

“Aigo,” Mom said again, clapping a hand to her forehead. “I should never have shared that address with you.”

“It’s the Empire State Building, Mom. Everyone knows where it is.”

She folded her hands in front of her. “Seeking your father’s attention with gifts and sentiments is a lost cause. You should put your effort toward excelling at something you are passionate about. Then he will really see you. If not sports, hangug-eoneun eottaeyo?”

I blinked rapidly at her sudden switch to Korean. I was pretty sure the word Korean was somewhere in there, and the implication was that I should learn it, but the language always gave me trouble—unlike ancient Greek, which came naturally.

“Patír toúto protimísei,” I said.