Sunday, August 17th:
New York is surprisingly like Los Angeles. It s crowded, loud, and invasive; the only difference is that it s colder and no one looks you in the eye, one thing he didn t mind, not one bit. He moved all the way across the United States to get away from his old home, hoping to make a new one, a new life, but he found himself relieved with that small comfort of familiarity, as annoying as it is. Although he was a little uncomfortable with the multitude of tall buildings that seemed to grow every time he turned his back.
The farthest he had been from home before then was to Nevada, and he was young then, not old enough to relish the freedom while it lasted. He loved Los Angeles, really he did, but it s time he lived his own life and he knew he couldn t start over fresh while he s still near his overbearing father, who tries to control every aspect of his life half the time, and spends the other half barely acknowledging his existence.
Leaving his sister was hard; they had never been separated for more than a couple weeks. Bianca was a grown woman though, living on her own and constantly reminding him that she didn t need him to protect her anymore, dammit , and that he should start looking out for himself instead. In fact, she was the one that mentioned going to New York and visiting Hazel, their half-sister, in the first place. When he called her around Thanksgiving his senior year in high school, she told him that she was a freshman in college at some school in Manhattan and told him that if he really wanted to get away and start over, but still felt the need to be close to someone, he should check it out. So he did, and it turned out to be just the escape he was looking for.
So at the end of his last summer in L.A. he packed everything he couldn t possibly live without in the back of his 67 Impala his nonno had given him, consequences be damned, and drove cross-country from California, stopping only to refill the gas tank and sleep in truck stops, snacking on Cheetos and Doritos and the occasional Happy Meal every other state, until he reached New York and paid for a dingy hotel room in the suburbs of Manhattan where he slept for three days straight, because damn, who knew driving could take that much out of a person?
It was Sunday now, the day before his technical first day of college, which is why he found himself sitting in his car with the engine turned off and the couple boxes comprising of his whole life in the back seat, watching hundreds of people swarm the campus of the Second Olympus Celestial University.
He got out of his car and opened the back door to pick up the boxes, piling them on top of each other and slamming the door closed with his hip. Wiggling a little to get better leverage and making sure he felt the jiggle of keys in his pocket, he began to walk through the mental map he memorized before arriving.
The buildings around him were large, but not huge like the industrial and office building ones further in the city. They were graceful and strong with tall marble columns and ornately decorated rooftops and sculpted designs on every surface. There seemed to be statues or fountains or centuries-old looking benches almost everywhere he looked. It felt like he stepped out into Ancient Greece or time traveled in his memories like Billy Pilgrim did, reliving a memory of their home in Venice before his mom died and his dad moved them to the states and became a bitter old recluse.
There were college kids everywhere; throwing footballs, laughing loudly with large groups of friends, squealing and embracing people they haven t seen since last year. Everywhere he looked there was happiness and inebriated joy on everyone s faces. It was more than a little sickening. There were bright colors everywhere; in the clear blue sky, the green lushness of the trees, the flushed faces of those around him-not to mention the fact that the only colors the students seemed capable of wearing were gaudy orange and vomitus purple. He started to feel out of place in his ripped black skinny jeans, worn skull t-shirt, his old aviator jacket that he will probably never completely fill out, and scuffed up converse until he snapped himself out of it because he remembered he wasn t suppose to care what others think.
He huffed a sigh and scowled at the offending bright colors, starting to make his way through the crowd. The sun was bright here, no brighter than it was in Los Angeles but he still reached into his back pocket and slipped his mirrored aviator sunglasses over his eyes. He told himself he wasn t hiding behind them and then mentally growled when his subconscious retorted with a disbelieving snort.
The boxes he was carrying didn t hold much, but the weight was starting to drain on him, so he was relieved when he passed a sign pointing to a building, labeling it the Anancites Building, the freshman dorms. A girl with straight, black hair carrying a fencing sword ran in front of him and almost sent him and his boxes tumbling to the ground. He caught himself just in time but one of the pictures overflowing from the top of the box fell and cracked on the concrete. The girl turned and continued to trot away from him, now backwards. Watch where you're going!
He puts all the heat he can muster in a glare before he remembers that he s still wearing his sunglasses. Quickly, he puts the boxes down, whips off his sunglasses, and grabs the picture frame, casting a forlorn look at the broken glass. When he stands back up, the girl is tugging on the arm of blonde haired boy-scratch that, man.
He might have been dressed like a teenager, but he was without a doubt a man. He was wearing red combat boots, dark wash skinny jeans, a rainbow studded belt-I shit you not, rainbow-and a loose muscle shirt that looked like the sun threw up on it. His sunglasses were pushed up to his forehead, his blonde hair having a straightened look that had to be styled. He could see his tattoos on his open side, but he was too far away to tell what they were. His face was honest and if that smirk was anything to go by, full of mischief. But his eyes-clear and dark from where he was were full of concern.
He looked like he was about to step towards him, but the girl clutching at his arm gave him a yank and pulled him with her. She looked back at him and yelled Watch it! one last time before dragging the man towards the street. His irritation spiked again and he called after her, "IT WAS YOUR FAULT!
They were already gone though, running across the street, the guy sending him one last smirk over his shoulder. He sighed and put the picture back in the box; hopefully he will remember to buy a new frame for it. He hefted the boxes back up and went inside the building.
His dorm room number was 223. He followed a long corridor filled with people ambling in and out of rooms, looking slightly lost, until he found a black door with gold numbering on it signifying it was room number 221, showing a blond kid and a curly, dark-haired boy hunched over something explosive looking bubbling in some beakers. Across the hall, the door number 223 was halfway open. He looked around nervously and kicked it the rest of the way open with his foot.
Inside, half of the room was already set up, clothes and empty blue coke cans littering the floor and bed. It was a complete wreck. There s a boy laying face down on top of the covers, his right leg and arm hanging off the side, looking for all the world like he was a growth extending from the mess he was laying face-first in.
He cleared his throat and placed his boxes on the clean side of the room, deciding to try and rouse the boy. You ve been here for a while, then?
The boy jerked at the sound of his voice and rolled with a loud thump! to the floor. When he sprang up, he looked around until his eyes came to rest on the boy in front of him. He was wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt and had a sea foam green trident tattoo on his arm. What was with this school and bright colors?
The guy smiled and looked a little shy and confused. Nope. I just got here a couple hours ago. What makes you say that? Nico forced a smile on his face and turned back towards his boxes, muttering never mind.
The guy was oblivious to his discomfort, or probably more worried about his own, and thrust his hand towards him. The name s Percy Jackson. Nice to meet you, roomie.
He shrugged off his jacket and clasped his hand tightly. Nico di Angelo.
di Angelo, huh? Is that Spanish or something? I love Mexican food! Oh, and coffee and nice veggie burritos. But I guess that s why I said I love Mexican food. Not the coffee, I meant the burrito. You probably knew that huh? Anyway, speaking of coffee, this one time
Nico stared at him for a good thirty seconds before realizing the monologue wasn t going to quit, so he turned back to his box and started unpacking, mostly tuning out the insistent babbling at his back. He unpacked his clothes and noticed with morbid amusement how dark all his clothing was compared to everyone else s around here. As he unpacked pictures and trinkets and books he took from home he heard only snippets of the conversation he was supposedly having- endhiladas Grover ran hilarious and then Annabeth . He had no idea what he was even talking about anymore, he changes topics so fast. Nervous chatter, he recognized immediately. He used to do the same thing when he was younger.
He took pity on the poor guy and stopped his tirade. Percy. Dude. That s a great story and everything, and I m sure this Annabeth is a great person, but I m admittedly more than a little lost here. You mind filling me in a bit?
He looked relieved with his suggestion and responded quickly. Yeah, yeah, sure, I can do that.
Nico sighed in relief, starting up a mental scorecard. Nico 1 Percy 0. I m a freshman here, same as you, but I know a lot of what goes down. I have friends in high places, and by that I mean upperclassmen, not like staff or faculty. Or some mystical or godlike beings, not to be rude in mentioning gods, or God, if your religious. If you re not, that s totally fine and my bad. Or if you are that s my bad as well. Not to make assumptions or anything but isn t not making assumptions being presumptuous, or whatever
Nico sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe it was Nico 0 Percy 2. Dude. He looked up and Percy was looking bashful again. Sorry
Anyway my best friends, Will and Clarisse, are seniors here. And I know a lot of juniors and some sophomores too. My boyfriend is a sophomore actually. You ll probably meet him sometime. His name s Jason Grace.
He paused at Nico s exasperated look and got back on track. Yeah. Anyway. I have a lot of friends that have been here for a while so if you need anything, just let me know. Will, I ve known him for a while, him and Clarisse, and they re pretty awesome. I ll introduce you guys sometime, yeah?
He gave him a distracted smile and nodded. He tuned him out for a while more, his mind drifting back to L.A. and his sister. He d have to call her sometime. Let her know he s settled in you should come.
Nico furrowed his brow and turned back to him. What was that? Sorry, I didn t catch it.
Percy looked at him hopefully and repeated, I said that there s a party this Friday night at my friend Piper s house. A sort of breaking-in college party. You should come.
A party he didn t really know anybody and partying usually wasn t his thing. He preferred to stay in on Friday nights and read a book or listen to music in solitude. Socializing well, that wasn t his division. Percy was still looking at him expectantly, so he answered as honestly as he could. Yeah. That sounds fun. But I m a freshman. I don t really know anyone, and I doubt I d be welcome
Percy laughed and rolled his eyes good naturedly at him. Nah, Will will get us in. Besides, you ll know me. And my friends.
Boy can t take a hint it seems. Yeah, he muttered, we ll see. I might be busy though, visiting family and whatnot. Percy nodded his head and gave him an affirmative response before muttering something about using the bathroom and leaving Nico alone in the dorm.
He felt exhausted already.
He sighed and sat down on the bed, looking at his surroundings. The room was simple but nice. It had two desks facing each other under a large window with red drapes, heavy but light enough for air to drift through. There were two beds on opposite sides of the room, each with a nightstand at the end and a lamp on it. There were two drawers in the nightstand and two larger ones on the underside of the bed. A single but large closet was on the same wall as the door. It was nice. Everything seemed nice here.
He hoped this school wouldn t turn out to be overwhelming. He needed this place, and as strange as it sounds, it was already starting to feel like home to him.
::: Okay. So how was that? Please let me know how I did. I will accept flames, just not lightly. Thanks. Please review. :::