Tsarevich
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Rick Riordan does, and I envy him.
For those who just read this for the heck of it, it probably won't make sense. You have to read the prequel, "Why Do I Always Run Out of Room When I Choose Titl". It'll all come to you, if you've read the Percy Jackson series.
Chapter 1
"Mama, I don't want to move to New York!" I complained, angry at my father.
"Tsarevich, your father pays our bills, and you should know how to live on the other side of the world." My mother smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling up. But she looked away, betraying her sadness.
My father lived in New York, managing my grandparents' company, Harmand and Prentiss. He wanted my mama and me to stay with him.
But I didn't want to leave my villa, here in Rome. I lived here most of my life, in Italy, but I was born in Russia. That's the reason, my mother said, that she named me Alexei Nikolai Prentiss.
My friends called me Alex; my mother called me her stupid pet name. I was glad that she didn't call me "prince" in English, because that would be embarrassing. And I was glad that most people were ignorant and didn't know the meaning of tsarevich.
I was raised in Italy, skiing the slopes during the holidays, riding the waves of the Mediterranean. I took after my dad, with his tallness and blond streaked hair.
My mother's mind was made up. I said good bye to all of my friends, and packed my bags. As if to console me, my mother got us business class tickets on the plane.
I slouched on the soft, puffy seats, flicking through the movies. There wasn't a great selection. I sighed.
"Tsarevich, cheer up. You'll live in the lap of luxury. Why don't we go to Elmont? It's in New York, and you'd really love to see the races." My mother was trying to bribe me.
Elmont, New York, was the home of the Belmont Stakes, one of the diamonds in the Triple Crown. I loved horse races, riding, everything, and my mother knew it.
"Fine." I replied. I was going to make her think that she had bought me off with reluctance, but I was secretly delighted.
On the plane ride, my mother fell asleep. I stared at her bracelet.
It was her favorite bracelet, and it twinkled in the sunlight that filtered through the small, round air plane window. Tiny coins with a bearded man's head stamped on one side and a fist holding a thunder bolt were linked to a golden chain. It was beautiful, and hypnotic, the way they spun. My mother never told me where she got it.
The plane hit the runway, skidding on the painted asphalt. My mother's eyes flew open, and then she smiled with relief.
In the air port, a man with a card with our names on it greeted us. I scowled. My father was never around, always on business, traveling. It was so predictable.
The man picked up our luggage and directed us to a Mercedes parked outside. We got in, and the man, evidently a chauffer drove us.
"Alex, you will live in an apartment that your father has paid for, and you can either go to public or a private school. An assistant can take you shopping for new clothes, but you don't have to go."
I hated private academies. I had been to a few, but the snobs irritated me. So I chose public school.
In my room in the apartment I just stared out the wall (it was a window and wall at the same time). Helicopters buzzed around the busy flies, the cars far below swirled around the dancing beetles.
I fell asleep.
-
When I woke up, piles of shopping bags stood in corner. I groaned. I did not want to deal with that.
So I went back to sleep.
In the morning, my mother woke me. She looked tired, and I knew she had been unpacking.
"Your first day of school is today. You can have anything you want for breakfast." She glared at me. "Within reason, of course."
She walked out of the room, her bare feet pattering on the carpet. I got dressed, as well as I could.
Stumbling to the kitchen, I was greeted with a plate full of bacon and eggs. I wolfed it down, washing it down with cold milk. I didn't see any maids.
I wandered downstairs, past the security guards and the saluting door man. There was the chauffer again, with the shiny black car. I could tell that I was to have an escort.
There was a woman inside, her arms full of books. She wore a pant suit, with a little H and P pin on her lapel. She worked for my father.
"Alex…that's what you want to be called, isn't it?"
I nodded.
"My name's Tiffany and I'll be your assistant. If you need anything, just tell me, and I'll make sure it's done." She handed me a card. It was embossed in gold with the company symbol. "Here are your books, and if you want a transfer, call the number on my card."
We rode to school in silence.
I got out, in front of the school. People stared at me. I guess they had never seen a kid with a chauffer. People like me went to the fancy private schools.
I managed to get through lunch all right. I had to get up and say a few sentences for myself. So I composed something short and rather boring.
"My name is Alex, and I moved here from Italy. I'm a sophomore. I like this place okay, but I think the people are noisy and loud." I recited, standing in front of a chalk board.
Some girls giggled at my faint accent.
At lunch, I sat at an empty table. A bunch of kids sat around me. This was obviously their table that I had intruded upon. I started to get up.
A hand gripped my wrist. "Who are you?" It was a girl, with dark brown hair and an olive complexion. She was quite pretty, in a startling, unique way.
"I'm Alexei," I said, a bit scared. She looked like a crazy maniac, and her grip was so strong that she might be able to break my arm.
"He doesn't look like a mobster's son." Some one noted, at the end of the table. It was a girl, with dyed black hair and lots of black eyeliner.
"Who said I was a mobster's son?" I was offended. Just because my name was Alexei didn't mean I was affiliated to the Russian Mafia.
"So…" the first girl drawled. "Let's pretend this is Alcoholics Anonymous. Each of you will say your name and something about you. We'll get to introduce ourselves. I'll go first. My name is Melinda Di Angelo, but you can call me Lin. I'm a junior. I live with my father. I like fencing and martial arts. Next!"
So we all went around in a circle, like group therapy thing.
"My name is Alexei Nicolai Prentiss, and I'm a sophomore." Some of the people raised their eyebrows. I ignored them. "I just moved here from Rome. I live with my mother, and I like to ride horses. I have an Arabian stallion named Mikhail."
The girl with lots of makeup stood up. "My name is Cassile Lawson, and you may call me Casey. I an artist-"
Lin interrupted. "You say you're a suffering artist, but I don't see you suffering, not with two ice creams and bag full of candy in your locker."
"Excuse me, Alex, what I was going to say was: I'm an artist, and in my free time I sing in a rock band."
A boy stood up. "I'm Com. I'm a junior, and I like to…uh…play on computers.." He fidgeted, adjusting his glasses.
Lin smirked. "Com likes to hack computers. Some of the companies here pay him; that's how he can afford five lap tops."
Com blushed, and then he sat back down.
I guess I met my new friends.
Author's Note: Yep. Alex is in New York, and we'll see what mischief he gets into with his friends. Keep on reviewing, and I'll keep on writing.
Spring Break is over, so I'll cut back on updating. I just don't have enough time.
I wonder what happens to Lin and Alex…. You could probably tell who their parents are.
Yeppers.
