TESSA GOMEZ

When I get home, I read a brand new novel, and finish it, which is quite the accomplishment with my ADHD and Dyslexia. By the time I stop reading, it's already 11:49, 11 minutes until midnight.

The shadows are dense, and the moon is crescent. Being a night owl, I usually take midnight walks on the beach when there isn't anyone around.

Our butler knows I gets out, but since I know that he uses my parents' hot tub when they aren't home, I blackmailed him into covering for me at all costs. In my opinion, it is a fair deal because he's making me take the blame for the hair clogging the drain in the hot tub (long story).

I open my window and make a small jump onto the bushes. I love how sneaking out always gives me a mini rush of adrenaline, at least enough to keep me running in the middle of the night. When I reach a giant rock, my 2 mile marker, I step out to the edge of the seashore and take off my Converse shoes.

I let my feet soak in the warm water, and then head back to the sand before an unknown force takes me away. Seriously, these waters are so murky, that I wouldn't know if a dead body was rotting away in there. Tonight is surprisingly cool, as cool as a Texas summer could get. I am thankful for my clothing selection of a thin sweater over a tank top and running shorts.

I smile, reminding myself that this is my real freedom. Singing before heading home has become a habit for me, something I just do without really thinking much about. This is really the only place and time I will sing. It reminds me of my grandmother and me singing together here. I sing a song and as soon as I finish the song, I notice a presence behind me.

Crap. A boy that I have never seen before is standing right behind me. I automatically expect that he's probably here to tell me something like, "shut up you're keeping the neighborhood awake", but that is absolutely ridiculous because I don't live in a neighborhood. He looks intimidating, with an aura of fear and strangely, death. I think back to the joke I made to myself about the possibility of a dead body being in the water…

"How long have you been standing there," I ask in my coldest, steeliest voice.

"Long enough to hear you sing," He says coolly. Apparently, he is immune to my 'tough voice.'

"Oh. Excuse the howling. I swear I am not a werewolf," I say, forgetting to use my tough voice, and instead using a joke.

Well now would be a good time to run, but I would seem like a total weirdo. To my surprise, he chuckles.

"No, I actually like your voice. Kind of why I stayed," he says.

For a moment, I catch a flicker of embarrassment in his voice. All of the sudden, his expression hardens. The small flame of friendship that had once sparked was just extinguished. I feel slightly confused, but then I think, what if he's dealing with stuff too? Why else would someone be walking on this beach at night?

"Do your parents know you're here?" I immediately know that that's the problem when he winces.

He doesn't answer. I'm not good at making friends when I try, but he seems lonely. It's worth a shot.

Okay, I should start small.

"What's your name?"

"Nico. Nico di Angelo."

I recognize his last name as being Italian, which happens to be one of the two languages I know besides English.

"I'm Tessa Gomez. Nico, I know that we've just met, but I know that something's wrong. If you feel like talking about it, I promise not to judge you or tell anyone, no matter what it is."

He looks at me with big black watery eyes that only show hurt. Now, he looks a lot younger and a lot less intimidating than he looked moments ago. For a moment, he's silent. We end up sitting down, looking at the vast ocean.

"My mother was killed by… my dad's brother when I was little. He was trying to kill my sister and I, but he ended up killing my mother instead. My sister died saving our friends a couple years ago. My dad is practically not even there. He says he is proud of me, but he thinks that my sister would have done better. I've found my half-sister and she's helping me cope with all this, but I still feel kind of alone. Hell, I can count all of my friends on my fingers, and people tend to avoid me. Why are you being so nice to me? You have every reason to run away. Just go," he says, a glistening tear running down his cheek.

"No. I have no reason to run away. I admire you."

"For what?"

"For being strong minded. For giving me a chance and opening up to me. I don't have many friends either."

"You're the first person I have ever talked to about this, you know. I actually trust you."

"I'm glad I could help."

I realize that I enjoy his company. He doesn't seem to be like the rest of the guys. He is cute, but kind of edgy. Maybe he's just misunderstood? He looks to be an average rebellious teenager like me. His messy black hair, light skin, and black eyes make him look mysterious. He's wearing a black AC/DC shirt, ripped black jeans, and ratty Converse sneakers like mine. I have never had an experience like this with anyone in my life, where I feel free with someone, not tied down with a chain. My friends, and even Sebastian, make me feel like I have to tie my free-spirited side down.

We sit there, not needing to say anything. I look out to the vast, free ocean. I almost feel like curling up into a ball and falling asleep right there.

"Hey, don't you have to get home by now," asks Nico, and I realize that I didn't bother to think about that.

"My parents are asleep. I sneak out all the time. Don't you?"

"I guess so. But it's not sneaking out if people know you do it, right?"

"Well, I guess I should get back home."

"You walked over here?"

"Yeah. My house is two miles down that way," I say, pointing a finger in the direction of my house.

"I'll walk you over," Nico says, not sounding the slightest bit bothered.

"Really? Thanks," I say, and I really mean it. At least there are still some gentlemen on Earth.

We get up and as we pass by the huge rock, he picks something up. In the faint light, I see a jacket and… no way. It's a sword. A freaking sword.

"Why on Earth did you bring a sword to the beach?"

"You see a sword," he says incredulously.

"Yes, why are you surprised?"

He bites his lip in worry. As if on cue, something the size of a rhino jumps from behind the boulders. I barely manage to dive out of the path of its jaws, but it manages to give me a gnarly gash running from just under my right knee to my right ankle.

"What the Hell!" I yelp, not from pain, but mostly because of the surprise attack. When the pain kicks in, I'm probably going to be spilling out a large array of profanities. I watch as the shadows engulf him; he disappears, and then reappears behind the monster in a split second. He stabs at its leg, and when it falls, he stabs at its heart. It pulverizes, and the dust is whisked away into the wind.

This is very surreal. I don't have the slightest explanation for any of what just happened, unless mythology is real. But… mythology can't be real.

"I owe you an explanation, don't I?"

"It better be the truth. The complete truth," I say, attempting to use my toughest voice.

Seeing my wound, Nico reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a flask with a weird gold colored liquid.

"Drink all of it."

"Um, what is that?"

"Ambrosia. It will heal you faster."

"Isn't this what gods drink in mythology?"

"Yeah, Greek and Roman. You like mythology?"

"Yep, I like reading the stories of heroes, monsters, and gods."

"Good. It saves a lot of explaining."

"So who are you, really?"

"I'm still Nico di Angelo. I'm a demigod son of Hades. Dead things call me ghost king, probably out of fear."

"I'm not sure what you are. You saw the sword and the hellhound, which you should not have been able to see."

At this point, I am slightly freaked out, but I feel like I owe him trust. After all, he trusted me.