First Day (01)

I frown a bit at Elena's response. I'd kind of hoped she was rising above on her own. I pause my writing assignment to text her back:

It'll pass. It always does.

Then I add:

Until then, want to help me plan revenge on him?

"Oh, uh..." I look at what I have on the screen so far. "Good. Yeah." Wait, did Kastor just help me out? Freely? Maybe he's actually forgiven me for everything now. "I'm just not sure how to, you know, wrap it up."

I never noticed before how lovely Calliope smells. It's comforting. Somehow both warm and clean at the same time.

"Sure, I can do that. Thanks." I give her a quick smile and hope she just moves on. This class might be kind of fun, but I don't think it will ever be more fun than real life. And real revenge. I've got two people on that list now: Crius and Will. One of them is off in another world, but the other is right frelling here.

I reach out and grab Calliope's arm gently before she can leave, pulling her closer and whispering softly, "I heard Will really wants to be a writer one day. You should ask him to read his stuff for the class." After all, if he's going to write online about Elena for the world to see, everything else he writes should be public too. Honestly, I have no idea if Will's a good writer or not. But I'm banking on not. And I'm hoping him having to share out loud will be embarrassing as all get out for him.

Despite his totally conceited story, Jenny sighs wistfully at Will and Eudora is enraptured. Even Gabriel stares at Will with slight amazement.

Listening to Will's story is frelling wild. I can't believe he actually wrote this, obviously about himself. That can't be how he really sees everyone else here, right?

Honestly, by the time he's done, I almost...I almost feel suspicious that he has some god-blood in him. I don't know where else that level of unearned confidence and self-absorption would come from. It's unreal.

I narrow my eyes on him as he takes his seat again, trying to feel any sense of power around him, any connection to someone I know or have heard of. Or maybe looking to see if he really is just a mortal who happens to be supernaturally conceited.

You watch him, taking in the way he moves, his muscles, his eyes. It hits you like a Mack truck. Will Kalani is the son of Ares. No idea who his mother might be, but he's a demigod at least.

What do you do?

I feel all the air leave my lungs when I realize why Will seems so familiar. For a moment, instead of seeing Will's haughty eyes, I swear I see Ares' eyes. Not the war-fueled ones when we first met, the kind ones when he looked at me after making love, protective and gentle. The eyes that looked at me when he called me his Queen. My heart squeezes tight and I wonder if Will knows his true parentage. I wonder if he knows his father is dead, if he knows I made it happen.

All the guilt and shame and grief over Ares washes over me like it just happened yesterday, and I think of Donna, of the impossible mission I gave her to earn my forgiveness, to return Ares from the grave.

I realize my eyes are burning only a moment before a tear escapes and I quickly swipe it away, hoping no one noticed. I look down at my desk and take a deep breath, trying to be here, now, not living in the past.

I look away for a second, trying to push the pain out of my eyes before I look back at Axel and nod once. "Yeah. I'm fine." I swallow down the lump in my throat and give him a brief, sad smile. "Just thinking about somebody I lost."

After Axel turns back to face front, you glance over to Kastor and realize he's sketching in his journal. He's sketching you.

What do you do?

The bubblegum from Axel is such a sweet gesture that, for a second, I think I might tear up again. I push that away though and reach forward to pick up the piece of gum, holding it in my palm and rubbing my thumb over the package, appreciating it like it's a worry stone or something. I can smell it even without bringing it any closer to my nose.

When I glance over to see if Kastor's caught on to any of this, I'm not shocked to find him in his own little world. That seems about right. I am shocked to see what he's sketching - who he's sketching. I thought he'd written me off, cut me out, was never going to bother talking to me again much less spend his time drawing me. I...I don't know what it means. Should I pretend I didn't notice it? But he wanted me to notice, obviously. If he wanted to keep it secret, he would've waited until I wasn't sitting right next to him to work on it, right? I hesitate then pull out my phone under my desk to text him:

you're getting better.

He continues sketching for a couple of minutes before he checks his phone as if the part demanded to be completed before he could lose that focus. He reads your text and texts back:
Thanks. Your sadness was calling to my pencil.