A/N Hey thank you for reading this! I hope you all like it. Comments and criticism are welcome!
Disclaimer: I do not own PJO
He's doing it again, the thing to that poor plant in the corner. He's absent-mindedly tearing off its leaves. I swear I can feel every pluck as if it were my own limbs being torn off. I look at the clock, five more minuets and study hall will be over. Sighing I force myself to turn my attention back to the notebook in front of me. It only makes the sounds louder. Rustle, pluck, rustle, pluck, over and over again. Two more minuets, one more minuet, thirty seconds, the high-pitched ring of the school bell is music to my ears.
The classroom is a whirl, of backpacks, and pent up conversations. The room clears, and I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. I weave my way through the pulled out chairs, and the occasional forgotten pencil bag, gathering all the fallen leaves. I can sense each broken end. My fingers work on autopilot, selecting the first leaf. I press it to the ripped stem, and wrap my fingers around where they connect. I take a deep breath, and my hand tingles, then I feel the familiar tug in my stomach. I lift my hand off. The leaf is connected again. I set to work on the others. The repetitive motion is almost relaxing, and I find myself humming as I work.
Someone clears their throat behind me. I turn as slowly as possibly. 'Maybe they didn't see,' I think. One look at his face, and I loose all hope. I kind of recognize him. I know I've seen him before, he goes to this school, but he's in the grade above me. He doesn't bother to brush away the blond hair that's fallen in front of his shocking blue eyes. His backpack is strung haphazardly across his shoulder, and his face is full of curiosity, and shock. The silent tension between us seems more like a physical object.
I open and close my mouth, searching desperately for something to say. "I-I- I can explain," I stumble out. He says nothing. We stand there for what seems like hours. Then he stretches out his hand, "Simon Foley; son of Apollo."
'Apo- what?' I take his hand and shake. "Catherine Cunningham…"
"Daughter of Demeter," He interrupts.