As quickly as the lights turned off, they came back on again. Instead of the neat rows of desks and chairs holding students completing their maths test, there were five women and seven men in front of me. Yes, I counted. No, it's not weird at all. Anyway... The room now looked bare, with the whiteboard being the only piece of furniture left. All of the windows had been closed, with the curtains pulled, so that no one passing could see what was happening. The fact that no one can see, and therefore help, alarmed me quite a bit, and made the situation seem much more terrifying.

Out of all of them, only one stood out to me personally. He was built like an athlete, wearing strange clothing that looked directly imported from Hawaii, the type that are brightly coloured and covered in palm trees. However, it was the face that stuck out the most. His eyes were kind, the same blue as mine, his mouth was stretched into a wide happy smile, one that I could see had existed on his face many times before. There was no denying who this man was.

"Dad"

He matched the stories that mum had told me perfectly. He also looked strikingly similar to me. But it was his scent that confirmed it for me. He smelled exactly like the ocean, the same salty scent that I exhaled at the beach every day. Plus, he was good looking. Don't look at me like that, I mean for a father. Whatever. Believe what you want. It's a free country.

Strangely, he looks exactly as I always pictured him, even though mum never told me his appearance. Perhaps I have some tiny memory from when I was a baby stored in the back of my mind, or my imagination is weirdly accurate, but he always had that smile and those blue eyes that looked like they are pools of the ocean living inside him, like bringing a little piece of it with him everywhere. And right here, right now, I can't help but wish that he had always reserved that look just for me, that no one else got to see it. That he really missed his little girl for all those years. Who knows, maybe. Or maybe I'm just dreaming again.

"Who are you, and what do you want with us?"

Startled, I looked away from my father, trying to locate the voice. It occurred to me that there was a presence on my right, one that I had not yet noticed, being too preoccupied with the strangers in front. It was one of my classmates. With the dark skin and Greek complexion, I knew it was Luke.

Luke has maths with me, as we are both slightly smarter than the average grade 10 student. All I know about him is that his family are immigrants from Greece, even though he is pure blood Aussie, like me. We never communicated out of class with each other willingly, unless working together on an assigned project. He was one of those people who classified me as nice but quiet, as he belongs to the popular group within our school. He's like one of those strangers that you see walking past on the street, the one you notice, but don't really acknowledge or pay attention to. He's just there. Plus, we are very different socially, so any sort of friendship between us has never even been considered.

Yet here he is, standing next to me as we face the strangers, and my father, together.

Ignoring Luke's question, the adults focused all their attention on me, almost drinking me up with their eyes. It's a very nerve-racking experience, when you feel like they are scanning both inside and out, down to the soul. Looking closely at each one by one, I questioned the relationship between them, for each was different from the others.

The man in the middle was wearing a suit, that looked very expensive, much like the one Paul wears every day to work. His expression was set like a stone, as if he always frowns. In fact, I doubted that the man ever smiled. In his left hand he held an object that looked remarkably like a lightning bolt. Every so often it would cackle and crack, almost as if it was made of electricity. I looked away from him as fast as possible. Next to him, on the right, stood my father, still smiling as if there wasn't anywhere else in the world he would be. I returned one that was even bigger, being so happy to see him again. Then came a man who seemed slightly drunk, particularly as he was leaning heavily against a stick, and smelt strongly of wine. Striking me as careless, he had a prominent belly that he did not bother to hide, and a smirk that made him look slightly mad. He reminded me of my grandfather, also a drunk, who would spend the entire holiday sleeping and then telling my mother to pour him another glass, while complaining loudly about her cooking. Wonderful. Didn't spare him another throughout and moved my gaze elsewhere.

The fourth man looked more like a gorilla than a person, due to the large deformities throughout his body. One leg was longer than the other, one of his arms didn't hang properly, and his face looked as if a child had turned it into play-dough and squashed it. Even though his eyes were on me, his hands were preoccupied elsewhere, fiddling with some sort of mechanical invention, making me think that he is an inventor. I gave him a little nod of the head, just to be polite. The fifth I could not even classify as a man, for he looked no older than seventeen. Wearing jeans and a t-shirt, he is the only one I can even begin to classify as normal, although sun glasses inside is an odd fashion statement. In fact, he was almost cute, with the blond hair and tan, however I still have no idea who on earth he is. The look that he was giving me was of pure enjoyment, seeming to find the whole situation amusing and perfectly normal. Strikes me as a bit of a slacker. I smirked at him, portraying to him that I wasn't falling for the charm. The sixth was almost boring looking if not for the large stick thing that was held together by two intertwined snakes. I think it's called a cascades? Eh, my Mythology is not exactly up to scratch. Even so, I get the distinct impression that with him, appearances aren't everything, and that he is far more important than he looks, with his plain shirt, pants and shoes looking ordinary. Your average middle aged man. Moving on... The final man was unlike any other I had ever seen. The only information that I could read from his appearance was that he had some serious anger issues. The clothing and face said it all. He was wearing some serious biker gear, all black, all leather. Talk about pricey. Also, while the young guy's sun glasses looked purely out of place, this man's just made him even more menacing, especially when compared with his pale skin. But his expression freaked me out the most, with his mouth set in a cruel malice, something that I was sure never changed. The aura that he sent out almost had me getting angry. Needless to say, I looked away as quickly as possible, trying not to be intimidated.

Then there were the women. Next to sparky, on the left, stood the first as proud and tall as is possible. Looking at the way her and sparky stood, all regal, made me think that these were the two in charge of the group. The analytical way that she stared me down made me feel small and powerless, a feeling I do not like to possess. Needless to say she was not immediately written as part of my list of favourite people. However, there was nothing special about her appearance. All she wore was a loose fitting white dress draped around her body, and a pair of sandals. I would have thought at least a piece of jewellery, as something to distinguish her from the others. The hierarchy here seemed a little muddled to me. Hoping that I hadn't given away my feeling of fear without realising, I moved my gaze further on as fast as is possible without attracting unwanted attention. The second woman struck me immediately as an environmentalist due to what she was wearing: a garb that looked suspiciously like she had made it herself using plants and flowers. With her kind expression and child friendly attire, I thought of her as the mother of the group, looking after the others. I tried to return the smile, but only managed a grimace, as I was too busy worrying about what the group had in store. When I looked to the next woman on the left, I was left feeling inherently smarter than before. She simply radiated wisdom, as if she was the teacher and I her student. It is impossible to be in her presence and not feel like you learned something valuable. She is definitely the brains of the group. This feeling then became greatly enhanced when I took in her appearance, with her black hair, fair skin, intelligent but kind eyes, and full mouth. It is almost as if she knows exactly how to look, how to make herself seem beautiful and wise at the same time. To her I also gave a respectable nod of the head, as that is the polite motion to do given the circumstances.

As with Mr. Cool, the fourth was more of a girl than a woman, being even younger than I am. Her appearance screamed nocturnal, as if she sleeps throughout the day and is active only at night. Out of the entire group, she was the only one was carrying an actual weapon, a silver set of arrows attached to a beautiful bow. Had she of been any older, I would have thought that she was a professional hunter. This ideology seemed even more realistic when I realised she was wearing a white fur coat. Also, the way that she eyed all the males in the room with distain, I could tell that she was a hard-core feminist. Odd interests for a girl that young, in my opinion. Her I gave a slight smile, scared that she might hunt me if I didn't even acknowledge her. The last member of the group was by far the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my life, for she was completely flawless. I immediately worried that she was mentally giving me a makeover. I am perfectly happy with my how I look, and so not need some barbie doll giving me fashion advice. Even now I could not tell you the exact colour of her hair, or the size of her mouth, because it is impossible to remember. For some reason, I kept thinking that appearance kept changing, becoming slowly more and more beautiful, although that is not physically possible. I guess it could be. Any things possible.

Sparky, dad, the mechanic, the drunkard, Mr. Cool, the normal one, rage man, the leader, the environmentalist, the brains, the hunter and the barbie doll. Not your average gang. But you never know.

Undeterred by the group's lack of attention towards him, Luke pushed harder for information. "Why us? We want answers!"

Worried that the group would resort to violence following Luke's harsh attempt at answers, I tried to calm everyone at once. "Hush, Luke. Let them speak."

It seemed to work, for Luke became quiet.

It was sparky who spoke. "Elena, daughter of Poseidon. Luke, son of Apollo. Finally we meet."