“Are your powers unlimited?” I finally ask. “I mean, can you do pretty much anything you want?”
“Yes and no,” Nicole says.
“Great.” I venture a tiny bite of blue Jell-O. “That clears it up.”
Troy swallows a giant forkful of meat loaf before saying, “It’s not a simple question. In one sense, there are no limitations on what wecan do. But-and this is a big but-just because we have the potential to do something doesn’t mean we have the ability.”
“I’m working on no sleep,” I plead. “Can you please elaborate?”
“Our powers don’t come easy,” Nicole explains. “When we’re born we can’t really tap into them. They’re there, but it takes years-a lifetime, really-of training to learn how to use them.”
“There are exceptions, of course.” Troy sets down his fork to chug a pint of milk. “The closer you are to the god on your family tree, the stronger your powers are from the start. Most of us are pretty far down the branch.”
“How do you train?” I ask. It’s not like I’ve seen classes out in the courtyard working on moving things with their minds.
“That’s complicated.” Nicole pushes her untouched meat loaf to the side. “Part of it is learning how to focus your energies-how to channel the powers into what you are trying to do. But a big part of it has to do with self- knowledge. You have to know yourself, understand yourself so you can sense the extent of your powers. The better you know yourself the more focused your powers get.”
“Wow,” I say. “That sounds so…”
“Vague?” Nicole suggests. “It is.”
“I was going to say dangerous. What if someone suddenly reaches a new level of self-knowledge and, like, accidentally blows someone to pieces.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Troy says cheerfully, “there are controls.”
“Controls?”
“Yeah,” Nicole adds. “Since we’re not fully gods, the Mt. Olympus twelve placed a protective order over our powers.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we can’t kill anyone-either accidentally or on purpose-using our powers.” Nicole stares at the table, like she’s lost in thought. Her voice sounds far away. “Only the gods can act irreversibly.”
Silence falls on our table. Nicole sits lost in thought. I feel like I’m missing something important. Gesturing with my eyebrows, I try to silently ask Troy what’s going on. He just shakes his head and goes back to shoveling down his tray of food.
I definitely get the hint that Nicole has a lot of buried secrets.
This is just how they both reacted when we were talking about Griffin the other day. I totally don’t expect them to dish on all the buried past in the first week of our friendship, but I wonder if those two secrets are related?
Still, it’s clear that this is a subject best avoided for the moment.
“I’ve been wondering about the gods,” I say, trying to fill the awkward silence. “Do they come cheer at football games? Or speak at graduation or anything?”
Troy snorts, quickly wipes a napkin across his mouth, and says, “Not likely. They’ve been under the radar ever since man stopped worshipping them.”
“Why?”
“No one knows for sure,” he says.
“They’re pouting,” Nicole says, back to her old snarky self just as quickly as she left.
“They are not pouting,” he argues. “They’re gods. They don’t need to pout.”
“I don’t care if they need to.” Nicole grabs an apple slice off Troy’s tray. “They are.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Troy says, offering me an apple slice and then setting the bowl in the middle of the table.
“Makes sense to me,” I say. “For what I know, anyway. If someone suddenly loses stuff they thought they deserved then they might pout.” Not that I know this from personal experience or anything.
“They aren’t,” Troy insists, though I sense he knows he’s losing the argument.
Nicole leans forward over the table, staring Troy square in the eyes, and asks, “Who do you think is in a better position to know?”
He scowls, like he’s confused. “Why would you know-”
“Have you ever been to Mount Olympus?”
He starts to shake his head. Then, all of a sudden, his eyes get real wide and his mouth drops open. “Oh gods,” he says. “I totally forgot.”
“Yeah, well,” Nicole says, returning to her seat, “I haven’t.”
“Forgot what?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Nicole waves off my question. “It’s not important.”
Yeah, and running is just my hobby. I don’t need Mom’s therapy degree to know that whatever they’re talking about-Nicole visiting Mount Olympus?-is a majorly big deal. I also don’t need to read minds to know that this is an I’m-not-going-to-find-out-about-itanytime-soon kind of secret.
“Are you going to the bonfire tonight?” Troy asks out of nowhere.
“Bonfire?”
“Every year,” Nicole looks up, sounding unimpressed by the whole thing. “On the first Friday of school, all the groups come together for a big, raging bonfire on the beach. It’s the only time all the gods get along.”
From what I’ve seen, the god cliques don’t mix. “Why do they get along at the bonfire?”
“It’s a night to honor Prometheus,” Troy explains.
“The guy who stole fire and gave it to people?” I ask. See, I did pay attention in English class.
“Yeah,” Troy continues. “When he did that it created a kind of bridge between man and the gods. Without that link,” he says, smiling, “none of us would be here.”
“So we honor him by throwing a huge party, lighting up the beach, and pretending like we don’t hate each other the rest of the time.”
“Ignore Nic,” Troy admonishes. “It’s the best party of the year.”
“Sounds like fun.” I could use a few hours of homework- and training-free fun. And at least I get to sleep late tomorrow since I don’t meet Coach Lenny until eight on Saturdays.
“It starts at nine.” Troy looks down at his hands. “How about I come by-”
Another low whistle from Nicole interrupts whatever Troy is saying-and I’m a little annoyed because I think he’s on the verge of asking to be my
“Those two are taking PDA to a whole new level.” Nicole grunts in disgust and returns her attention to her food.
A few feet away, Griffin and Adara are sucking face like they’re attached at the mouth. Wow, they could at least keep their oral fixations behind closed doors.
I’m about to make some dismissive comment and return my attention to Troy when a paper airplane comes flying into my meat loaf. Looking around, I see Stella watching from three tables away,gesturing at the airplane and indicating I should open it.
Frowning, I pluck the airplane’s point out of the mush and unfold the paper.
The deal. Right, I’m supposed to magically come between the golden couple. I must have been seriously sleep deprived when I agreed to this. There’s no way I’m going to the paper in my hand glows for a second and more words appear.
kako.
