Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

“Really,” I say. “Everyone at the school is descended from a Greek
god. Even my stepdad.”
I can’t quite bring myself to say it out loud—to say that I’m a
descendant, too. It’s not that I’m afraid of how they’ll react—they’re
my best friends and they love me—but somehow, saying it makes
it undeniable. My freak status in the normal world will be irrevocable.
“Wow,” Cesca says, her voice full of awe.
Nola is silent. She looks like she’s in one of those meditative
trances she goes into when she’s deep in yoga. That’s her way of
dealing with major shocks.
“That is . . .” Cesca shakes her head. “. . . flipping awesome. So,
like, these kids are related to Zeus and Apollo and Aphrodite and
all of them?”
“Yup.”
“I don’t believe it,” Nola finally says.
“Do they have powers and stuff?” Cesca asks.
“More than you want to know about,” I say, speaking from experience.
“I don’t believe it,” Nola says again.
“Like what?” Cesca asks. “What can they do?”
“Whatever they want, as far as I can tell.”
“I don’t believe it!”
We both stare at Nola, shocked by her vehement outburst. She’s
usually so calm and balanced, it’s a major shock when she gets upset.
“Nola, it’s true,” I say.
“That explains it,” Cesca says.
“Explains what?” I ask.
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