Chapter One:
Some say it's a blessing, others say it's a curse. Me? I haven't decided yet. One thing is for certain, being a half blood id definitely not boring. This can be good or bad (depending on the situation you're in, of course). My name is Macy. I am fifteen years old, and this id how I discovered my new dangerous, crazy life.
It was my roommate Cassie's idea. Our classes had been cancelled this afternoon due to the teachers suddenly hosting a urgent staff meeting, so Cassie asked if I wanted to go to this new smoothie shop a couple of blocks down. I still wonder if I could have avoided what was to come if I had said no. Maybe I wouldn't have been dragged into such a mess.
When we arrived at the Smoothie Station, I decided on a Strawberry and Cream smoothie. As I was about to tell my order to the employee, I saw a boy outside the window of the shop. It was a quick glance, but something made me look back at him. I swear I had seen before. He had black hair, and brown eyes. He was wearing black jeans, with a black jacket over a red shirt. He had an Italian look about him. I don't know how, but I had the feeling that I had met him once.
"Macy! Hellooo? Macy!" Cassie broke my trance. "Are you going to order or what?"
"Oh, right. Strawberry and Cream smoothie please!" I said quickly. After paying, I dragged Cassie quickly out onto the street to see if the boy was still there. He was gone, Shoot.
"Are you going to tell me why you're acting so weird?" Cassie inquired.
"Never mind. I thought…that I saw someone I knew." I replied.
"Who would you know in New York?" Cassie questioned. That was a very good question. And the only was to find the answer, would be to fin the boy.
Monroe Junior/High School of the Arts was a private boarding school home to the most talented kids involved in music. Cassie and I had become great friends that year from being roommates. I do hang out with some other people, but they were more like acquaintances more than friends. I wasn't really popular, but I wasn't invisible or anything like that. Most of the popular people wore expensive clothing and acted like they didn't care what people. But secretly did. Their designer closets probably amounted to what the Monroe school was worth. They were so obsessed with their looks that you would think that they were more like the kids of Aphrodite or something. What? Aphrodite Where did I come up with that? Anyway, they were mostly good signers, and that's why they got into the school. But me, I was here on a music scholarship that I received. I could sing, play almost every single musical instrument you can think of (including the kazoo, not bragging or anything!). Plus, I wrote my own lyrics most of the time as well. Music was really the only thing I was good at in school, thank you to ADHD and dyslexia. The song I had to write for my application had pretty much taken up all of my summer, but it had been worth it. Now, I actually had grades higher than D's now.
I have a twin sister named Gwen. Our mom died on a car accident about a year ago, and it still feels like it was yesterday. Gwen and I had been sent to live with our Aunt Ellie after the funeral. We were all so depressed. I couldn't stand be in that house where the sadness had been thickening the air. My aunt Ellie, who had always had a smile on her face before her sister died, would sometimes become silent for hours, just staring at things and looking like she had just lost her best friend. My sister and I, who had always been close, drifted away from each other. Nobody talked about the car accident. Nobody wanted to. The silence was almost haunting. The only way for me to escape the house was by grabbing a beach towel, laptop, and heading to the beach to write lyrics. I would lie in the sun and try to forget what I would later go home to.
About a month after sending in my application tape, I got the reply. I had not told my sister and aunt about the application. I hadn't even told them about Monroe. I was afraid at first that they might think that I was abandoning them. And there was no more room for that in our family. When I did tell them about my admission, my aunt was, of course, happy for me. She couldn't ever say to my face that she didn't want me to go. My sister…well, we haven't exactly spoken since. I did feel guilty. She would still have to attend a regular public school and on top of that, she would be on her own with the woman who looked almost exactly like our mom and painfully reminded us of her every day.
Gwen and I, we are exactly identical. We share the same chestnut brown hair (though mine is a shade lighter because of being in the sun all summer), same sky blue eyes, and the same slim figure. However, we are a s different in personalities as we are same in looks. She bottles things up, I let them out. She has plenty of patience, and I hate waiting in line for anything. And as much as I hate to admit it, she's a little more sensible than I am. The only thing we have ever shared in common was music. We both swap CD's and recommended songs to each other, we also spent hours making playlists of both our favorites. She could play just as well as I could on any instrument, and we used to sing in the choir together and every lead in the school musical was ours. She was just as talented as me, and somehow, I got the last spot to get into Monroe. I got in instead of her, and I left her. This was the reason why she avoided me. I missed her all the time and sometimes I would look at the phone for hours, just wishing that it would ring and it would be her.
Anyway, I didn't go looking for the boy until the weekend came. I then asked Cassie if she wanted to go back to the Smoothie Station again.
"I just know that's it's their amazing smoothies that have you coming back!" she said with easily detectable sarcasm in her voice.
We stayed there for an hour, but we never saw him. I dragged Cassie back there every day possible until finally, three weeks later, she said dramatically, "I am never drinking another smoothie again! If I do, I'm afraid I might puke! And there's no saying that it won't be in your direction. Please, no more!"
I felt bad for making her go along, so in the end, we decided to take the subway to Central Park, and called it quits. We brought bread along to feed whatever kind of birds we found. After walking around for a while we started to head back. I was taken completely by surprise in what happened next. A boy who looked about sixteen was I the front seat of strawberry truck, was yelling at someone behind Cassie and I.
"Hurry up, Nico! Mr. D will kill us if we're late!"
He looked worried, as if this Mr. D. might actually kill them.
"Yeah, yeah", said a voice from behind us. "I'm coming!"
I spun around to look for the voice, and I found the boy. Black hair, brown eyes, Italian features. Nico. Something clicked in my brain and millions of memories suddenly filled my mind. I yelled out as he passed by.
"Nico diAngelo!"
He turned around to look at me and curiously raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. Do I know you?"
He looked me over and seemed puzzled, like he knew me from somewhere too. I smiled and said, "My name is Macy Blaire. We went to school together in the fifth grade, at Westover Hall."