“More powerful than gods?” I asked.
Dad nodded. “That’s correct, Helen. We are under the jurisdiction of the Mount Olympus Council. The Council is composed of twelve Mount Olympus residents. They’re not gods, but they are immortal. Sort of like an impartial panel. They’re the ones who decide which gods can live on earth and enforce the rules about living here.”
A council? That’s something my childhood books about Greek mythology left out. I guess it’s way less exciting than one-eyed giants and winged horses.
“What sort of rules?” I asked. And did destroying my hair count as breaking them, I wanted to add.
“Quite simply, if we immortal beings want to live amongst mortals, then we must ensure they don’t ever find out about our powers or our heritage. And we are never to use our powers to meddle in their lives,” Dad continued.
“But Mum knew that you were a god, right?” I asked, confused.
Dad nodded. “As you know, darling, Sharon didn’t want you to know until you were older.”
I put down my fork. The spaghetti and sauce had congealed on my plate. Talking about Mum always ruined my appetite, no matter how hungry I was.
“But Mum was a mortal. How come you were allowed to tell her about your powers and stuff?” I asked.
“The Council will sometimes make exceptions, usually when there’s a child involved,” Dad said. “But they don’t make it easy. You wouldn’t believe the paperwork I had to fill out, tribunals I had to attend… And even then, it’s at the Council’s discretion. The most powerful member of the Council, Cranus—”
Maria’s snort interrupted him. “Don’t mention that man’s name in front of me!”
“Cranus,” Dad continued, ignoring Maria’s outburst, “is not exactly a friend of our family. But, unfortunately, he does hold a great deal of influence within the Council. If he caught so much as a whiff of rule-breaking, he could make life on earth very complicated for us. He’s somewhat difficult.”
“Difficult? If he had his way, Helen’s mother would never have known the truth!” Maria said.
Something wasn’t adding up. “Dad, I don’t get it. You’re the head of the gods. Can’t you do what you like?” I asked.
Dad laughed, being all irritating and patronizing. “History has proven that giving the gods unlimited power doesn’t always work out too well. The Council aren’t perfect, but they’re necessary to keep us gods in check. Can you imagine if Aphrodite got her way all the time?”
So she could conduct more traumatizing experiments on my hair? Hours later, I was still touching my scalp every two seconds.
“Anyhow,” Dad continued, “provided we abide by the rules, we have nothing to worry about. Not from Cranus or anyone else on the Council.”
“What would happen if you did break the rules? Like, by turning someone’s hair green, for example.”
“You mean if we break the rules, Helen? I must stress that you’re also bound by this law. Anyway, it would take more than a botched hairstyle to attract the Council’s attention,” Dad said. “But if we did use our powers to set off World War Three, for example, there would be a trial at Mount Olympus.”
My eyes widened. World War Three? Did the gods have that sort of power?
“And?”
“And if we were found guilty … well, that would depend on the seriousness of the crime. It could range from a short banishment in Mount Olympus to being stripped of our immortality status. Frankly, that would be fatal.”
Whoa. The Council weren’t messing around.
“Then why not live in Mount Olympus and use your powers there?” I was asking a lot of questions, but I didn’t get it. Living on earth seemed like such a huge risk.
Dad smiled. “Because when you’ve spent an eternity in paradise, even that becomes dull. Some of the gods are content with their life there, but I craved new challenges. Mortals are fascinating, and I’d much rather be here than having my every whim catered to in a cloud palace.”
Cloud palace! Mount Olympus was sounding way cooler than drizzly North London.
Dad noticed the look of wonder on my face. “It’s truly not as exciting as it sounds, Helen. Perhaps you will get to see it one day and you’ll understand.”
“Oh, they will adore you there,” Maria said as she loaded up the dishwasher. “A new child of Zeus is practically a celebrity.”
As awesome as a cloud palace would be, imagine being completely surrounded by immortals who look like Aphrodite? I’d feel like a toad.
“It’s a lot to take in, Helen. And I’m sorry to tell you this before your first day at a new school. But it’s important that you understand what’s at stake,” Dad said.
“I get it, Dad. Seriously, I’m not about to start telling my new friends that you and Aphrodite are gods.”
If I made any new friends.
“I’m glad you grasp the importance of keeping our heritage secret,” Dad said. “But to be doubly sure, I’m afraid that any friends you make are forbidden from entering the house. This must be a mortal-free zone.”
“Um, what? Isn’t that a bit extreme?” Did this family want me to stay a friendless loser? First Aphrodite transformed me into a troll doll, and now Dad was banning me from having anyone over. EVER.
That meant no friends over for sleepovers or tanning in the garden or exam revision sessions (by which I mean Netflix binges). How was I going to explain that to any new friends without sounding like a complete weirdo? Telling the truth wouldn’t be an option. I ran through potential excuses in my head. Sorry, friends-to-be, you can’t come over this weekend. My house has a leaky roof/rare spider infestation/visiting poltergeist. Maybe another time?
They were making it impossible for me to be normal.
“Helen, I know it isn’t ideal. But we can’t risk a mortal discovering the truth.”
I nodded. Deep down, I knew he was right. The only thing worse than not inviting friends over? Them coming round and seeing Aphrodite stroll through the house completely naked.
“Now, you’d better get ready for bed,” Dad said. “You’ve had a long day, and I want to make sure you’re refreshed for your first day at school.”
Bed before eight p.m.? Had he ever met a teenager? “Dad, I’m not ten years old any more. I won’t go to sleep for hours yet.”
“I know you won’t, especially not with all the distractions you have on your phone. So much time wasted. That’s why I’ve confiscated it for the evening,” he said.
He did WHAT?
“That’s impossible. My phone’s been in my pocket this whole time.” I patted my jeans pocket. It was empty.
I leapt off my chair and checked under the table, but Dad was right. At some point during our conversation, he had nicked my phone. SERIOUSLY?
“Why would you do that? Are you punishing me for something?” I asked, trying to stay calm.
“Punishing?” Dad looked confused and it was infuriating. “I’m not punishing you, Helen. This is for your own good. Many studies have shown that overnight exposure to mobile devices result in a poor night’s sleep, and—”