Jealous Mortal
timewriteralive818
Ch. -1- Prologue (936 words)
-No enterprise is more likely to succeed than one concealed from the enemy until it is ripe for execution.- Niccolo Machiavelli
Two girls met on top of the hill, amid the multi-colored leaves of late autumn, shivering against the coldness of the almost-winter feel in the air.
"Hey" said the one to the right as the two 13-year-olds started walking down the hill, their feet slapping against the cracked concrete sidewalk in perfect unison.
She was the tallest, with shiny black hair in a French-braid extending to her shoulder blades. Her school uniform was wrinkled, and one shoe was untied. Her name was Pandamilon Jones, but only new teachers and her parents called her that.
The one on the right nodded in return, head buried in a book. She had long, tangled blond hair, the color of the dead autumn grass in front of the houses they passed. Her sharp grey eyes missing nothing looked up and scrutinized her best friend for a moment before going back to her book. Then, speaking quietly, "Did you do your algebra homework?"
Pan sighed, her eyes searching the sky in the hopes to avoid answering her best friend's question. Finally, she settled on muttering a, "maybe" and turned her face down to the ground. The blonde nodded as if that settled it all and went back to her book.
A few minutes passed.
"We could run away," Pan said abruptly, walking backwards so she could face Anne. Anne shrugged her shoulders. "I'm being serious." Pan protested, mistaking her friend's lack of response for disbelief. She took her hands out of her jacket pockets and rested them in fists on her hips. As her sleeve rode up, Anne spotted a new bruise on her friend's forearm still a dark shade of bluish-black. It stood out next to the older yellow and green ones.
"We have money, clothes, and a destination! What could go wrong?" Both girls knew the answer to this, but neither said anything as Pan waited with baited breath for Anne to respond.
By this time, the two had stopped walking and were standing dormant on the sidewalk under an old oak tree. Their breath fogged when exhaled and danced in the air, slowly drifting up and fading. Anne watched it disappear, chewing on her chapped lips. Finally, she made contact with Pan's blue eyes.
"We have to wait for them to contact us."
Pan twisted her face into a scowl as the two started walking again, and Anne knew she had won. Anne didn't harbor Pan's longing to move around. In fact, Anne hated moving- she did it often enough what with her track record. "Very knowledgeable, but easily distracted. Needs to pay attention in class. Has a knack for trouble," was what her former social studies teacher wrote on her report card last year. Seventh grade, sixth school. Of course, that was the tamest of all the teacher comments she had received. After all, one does not get expelled from school for being "easily distracted".
Of course, Anne considered, she wouldn't really be upset if she moved to go to Camp Half-Blood. That would be cool.
How did they know about Camp Half-Blood, you ask? Pan's second-cousin, a son of Hermes, disclosed upon them the information three years ago after he showed up after midnight tapping on Pan's window and asking for money and bandages. His entire right side was scraped, and he had a nasty cut on his forehead that didn't stop bleeding for an hour. Since then, the two had fantasized together about who their parents were, and what their campmates would be like. According to Pan, Anne would (obviously) be a daughter of Athena- her appearance and love of books said as much, and Pan would be a daughter of Aphrodite.
Somewhere in their minds, well, at least Anne's, there was that little bit of logic which squeaked timidly, "You know that it's just a story, don't you?" But the small bit of common sense was hushed up quickly, smothered by hope.
The two continued on the long walk to school silently with the occasional chatter. The girls were inseparable, two peas in a pod, the perfect match. Pan was obviously the ring leader; it was more of her personality. But it suited Anne fine, as she was happy with fading into the background. At school, you could find them always together, talking about Greek mythology. People began to think of them as a pair; Pan and Anne; Anne and Pan. But unlike some people, they enjoyed the reputation. I guess that's why everyone was so surprised when 2 months later, in December right after Anne's 14th birthday, Pan showed up alone on the beaten-down steps of the school. When people asked, she said she didn't know where her best friend was.
After a day of anxious waiting, there were investigations. There wasn't any sign of a struggle near her house, and the thought of a kidnapping was dismissed. There were many interviews of her yellow-haired, grey-eyed single-mom, and background checks on all of Anne's teachers, but no evidence was found. After a month or two, the case was left but remained open. No one would ever look into it again; there weren't any leads, and so the state said that she had probably run away and that Anne would turn up soon. She didn't.
No, Anne didn't return until late August 2 years after she vanished. Her mother had moved away a year ago, and no one had seen the poor woman since.
Anne appeared at the door of a black-haired teen at the dead of night, tired and bloody, an apology on her lips and a favor to ask. To be forgiven.