I don't own Percy Jackson.
Prologue
He was Nico di Angelo, dark haired, dark eyed, always wearing black. He was bad with everyone: people, animals, everyone. He liked wearing black skinny jeans and black t-shirts, and people called him gothic, but he said that he wasn't because he didn't wear makeup. He didn't like gum or scarves, they annoyed him. He did like graveyards and blue cotton candy, but only blue. He couldn't explain it, but he hated any other kind of cotton candy. His friend Percy once tried to give him pink and he spit in Percy's face.
Her name was Thalia Grace, but she rarely told people her last name. She wore black skinny jeans and her favorite t-shirts were her "Death to Barbie" one and her Green Day one. She always wore a black hoodie, though sometimes she unzipped it. Her hair was black and spiky, but her eyes were electric blue. She knew that people found them creepy, so she wore lots of eyeliner and mascara to make them pop. She didn't speak to people, she wasn't a very good student, and she seemed to hate everyone.
He was willing to admit that he had no talent with girls. He hated it, his stuttering whenever a pretty girl even looked at him, but he couldn't help it. Every time he tried to talk to her, she spit out a sarcastic comment and walked away. Although he wasn't surprised. Girls never wanted to talk to him.
They went to Goode High School in Manhattan, where they both lived. Most of the students there were delinquents and idiots. No matter what people said, he wasn't one of them. They were both in eleventh grade. He was in the popular group, with Percy and Annabeth and their other friends. She was on the sidelines. Always on the sidelines.
Whenever someone tried to get close to her, she would push them away. So most people saw her as a piece of scenery, something to be overlooked. But he didn't. He knew that she had a secret. And he knew that someday he'd find out what it was.