Disclaimer: Even though I've been told I have basically the same writing style as him, I am not Mr. Riordan. So I therefore do not own PJO. THE END.

IMMA BACK! Wow, I haven't written in a LONG time. *slaps herself across the face* Oops...I'm eternally sorry. But I have been busy with beta-reading and editing (which I LOVE to do) for Eleos and meeeethegr8. So check them out...they got skill. XD

Plus, my Bestie (I nickname her Bessie the Ophiotaurus/sea cow) stole my books on the last week of school and I didn't get them back until just recently. So I've been on a PJO withdrawal :(

Shoot! Now she knows who Bessie is! :( Oh well...ON TO THE STORY ALREADY!

Nico POV

Even homeless people think I'm a freak.

Being the son of Hades, the god of the Underworld, has its perks, as well as its disadvantages. But I learned to deal with it, because it wasn't like there was anyone to help me. Unless you count Minos, my-er, adviser, I guess you could say. He helped me learn how to control my godly powers and how to survive. Without him, I probably would have visited Dad without an invitation or a heads-up.

Anyway, I was practising my shadow-travel skills one evening. I was getting pretty good at it. I was no longer running into walls and passing out for long periods of time. Now, I would occasionally get a bruise or my vision would go fuzzy.

Well, you know what they say: no pain, no gain.

I didn't know where to shadow-travel to. I just let myself go and ended up wherever, which wasn't always the smartest thing to do. Sometimes I ended up on the other side of the world (I have souvenirs), underwater (Percy had to save me), in a classroom while school was in session (I got detention for that), and other strange places that I really don't want to name.

Tonight wasn't any different.

It was late January and as freezing as ever. Earlier that day, I had lost my jacket after getting attacked by a pack of hellhounds. The shredded article of clothing was no match for their teeth and claws.

So now I was stuck, trudging through the heavy snow somewhere in rural New York, in a light black, tattered hoodie with a T-shirt underneath and a pair of ripped jeans. Definitely not something you would see as a "must-have" for the winter season.

But then I had an idea. Why don't I just shadow-travel myself to someplace warmer?

I smiled, looking for a shadow to run into, and immediately frowned. Where was I going to find a shadow in the middle of nowhere?

So I kept trudging until I found a cluster of pine trees forming the beginning of a forest. There.

I shook some of the packed snow off of my boots (which didn't make much of a difference, seeing as I was still standing in snow up to my knees) and picked up my pace. As I got closer to the tree, I started sprinting.

Must go someplace warmer, I thought as I ran. Clothes are not warm enough...I want to be warm!

I hit the tree, submerging myself into the shadows. There was no way to describe the feeling. It just happened. I closed my eyes and continued running for what seemed like hours.

THUMP! I had landed on something soft. I opened my eyes and looked around.

It was dark, except for a small sliver of faint light coming from the top of what appeared to be a metal box, sort of like a dumpster.

But I wasn't sitting on trash. Well, it didn't smell like trash, and whatever I was sitting on was soft, like a bed.

Then I realized that I wasn't sitting on one thing. I was sitting on a pile of things.

I ran my hand over the pile, grabbing something small and patterned off of the pile.

I looked at it and almost shrieked with disgust. I had just picked up someone's old underwear!

"Gross," I muttered. "Just...gross."

I was in a used clothing donation box.

"Great." I said after feeling the ice-cold sides of the box. "I guess I emphasized too much on warm clothing instead of a warm place."

Oops.

Well, I thought to myself, Might as well find something to wear. I started to search through the pile, hoping to find a jacket of some sort.

Most of the clothes were out-dated. Some had stains all over them, while some had rips or tears. Some had both.

"Seriously, people," I said to no one in particular (who would be in a donation box anyways?). "This is all you have to donate?"

After searching for what seemed like hours, but probably was only minutes, I stumbled upon something that felt cool to the touch. I grabbed it, grunting because whatever-it-was was heavier than I thought.

I took it with two hands and held it in front of me. It was a men's jacket, made of leather with a fur collar. An aviator jacket.

"Cool." I said and slipped it on. It was huge on me, but warm. Surprisingly, it had no holes or rips, as far as I could tell. It was perfect.

After finding a few more pieces of clothing to make an extra set of clothes, I decided that I should probably get going. It was already dark outside, judging by the tiny opening above me, and I didn't want anybody to catch me coming out of this thing.

But as I was planning my escape, I heard footsteps coming towards the box. Shoot. I needed to hide.

I quickly laid down and through some clothes on top of me. The rusty door above me was opened and clothes were shoved down the chute.

The wait was making me anxious. I was ADHD after all. After barely being able to survive the stillness for another minute, the door was closed and I heard footsteps walking away. I quietly sat up and stared at the new heap of clothes, wrinkling my nose in disgust. More girl clothes.

I scooped up the clothes and threw them behind me. It is time to get out of here, my gut was telling me. I was starting to feel very claustrophobic.

I peered through small opening. I was in an alley of some sort, hopefully still in New York. The coast was clear.

I gently pressed on the door, wanting to make as little noise as possible. But that didn't really work out.

The door fell forwards with a huge groan, sending me sliding down, penguin style. I threw my hands in front of me and landed on the hard asphalt with a thud. Smooth, Nico. Real smooth.

I got up, readjusting my over-sized jacket and brushing the brown, speckled snow off of my pants. I turned to walk out of the alley but stopped. I was not alone.

A homeless man was gawking at me, eyes wide, with his jaw looking like it was going to fall off. He was away from his make-shift fire, standing only a few feet in front of me.

I looked behind myself. Dead end. The only way to get out of here was to skirt around the man.

I held my hands in front of me with a reassuring smile, while carefully shuffling around the man and out of the alley.

He just stood there, muttering something that I couldn't understand and watching me like I was some sort of alien freak-of-nature. I guess he had some right to think that. It's not everyday that a kid comes out of a used clothing donation box.

I ran down the street and into another, but homeless person-less, alley and located the nearest shadow , launching myself into it. Where I was going, I wasn't sure. Just out of here.

Hopefully it wouldn't be another used clothing box.

So...you know the drill. Review? Please? They make me so happy! And who doesn't want an author to be happy? (Eliminates potential depressing stories.) ;)

I hope to get back on my writing schedule, so please Author Alert me!

REVIEW! I love to hear what parts made you laugh till you spewed guts, or just the parts you liked. ;)

If you've seen a used clothing donation box in your neighborhood/town put the word UNDERWEAR in your review! Hehe...