Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

“Listen, if you’re going to do the silent thing the whole way then
just—”
“Hercules is my ancestor.”
“Isn’t Hercules Roman?”
“The name is,” Griffin says. “But most people have never heard of
Heracles. Even the gods stopped using that name centuries ago.”
“I thought you were descended from Ares.”
“I am,” he grumbles. “On my great-grandmother’s side. Hercules
is on my father’s line.”
“And . . .”
“Descendants of Hercules are compelled to act heroic when
someone is in need.”
I can’t help it—I burst out laughing. That’s the funniest thing
I’ve ever heard. He really is helping me because he can’t stop himself.
This is priceless.
I can see this definitely working to my advantage.
“You can’t, however,” he says when I can’t stop laughing, “abuse
the privilege. Only genuine situations of need qualify.”
“What?” I ask, suppressing my giggles. “Is there some kind of
contract? Qualifications and exceptions to your heroics?”
His jaw clenches again and he doesn’t answer.
In fact, he stares straight forward and doesn’t even look down
at me. I must have touched a nerve or something. Great, now I feel
guilty for teasing him—the guy who tried to zap me off the crosscountry
team in the first place. I have no reason to feel bad for him.
But I do.
“I’m sorry,” I hear myself say. “I shouldn’t make fun of stuff I
don’t understand. This hero thing is pretty serious, huh?”
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