Hello, gorgeously fantastic readers! I'm back, with one last chapter before NaNoWritMo, just because I love this story so much. To Mrs. Di Angelo (OMG, Thalia *formerly Grace* reviewed my story!) I'm not sure what you mean by 'use apostrophes correctly.' The only thing that I can think of is sometimes, I accidentally use an apostrophe instead of quotation mark (I have bad eyesight, even with my glasses), so if you specify what you mean, I'd be happy to fix give you guys a bit of a timeline, Thalia arrived at camp on Monday, made a deal and hung out with Nico on Tuesday, and now it's Wednesday. Enjoy! Oh, and I don't own Justin Bieber (Thank god, no offense, bielebers.)

It was obvious that Nico had woken up on the wrong side of that round bed of his. He sulked towards me from his cabin, a scowl etched on his features. He looked as if he had just rolled out of bed and threw on a new set of clothes. His hair looked slightly greasy, and could have passed for a very tidy bird's nest. Purple, bruise like shadows stained the area under his eyes and contrasted against his pale skin, making them look slightly sunken.

I couldn't help but wonder what had put him in such a foul mood. He grudgingly grabbed my hand, holding it gingerly. I surprised him by yanking him towards my cabin, and dragging him inside.

He glared at me. "What was that for?"

"Who peed in your cheerios?" I countered, with a touch of venom.

He looked baffled for half a second before retorting "No one!"

"Then what's you're problem. You look like someone blared Justin Bieber in your cabin all night so you couldn't sleep, and your mood is about as mean as a hungry hydra."

His eyes shifted down to stare at the floor. "I couldn't sleep." He muttered.

"Why not?" I prodded, hoping for an answer.

"I don't like talking about it." He responded vaguely. So much for an answer.

I sighed. You sometimes had to pick and choose your battles; this was not one of them. "Fine, but let's head down to breakfast. I'm starving."

"You're always starving in the mornings."

I shrugged; he was right. I was definitely not a breakfast-skipper. Glancing at him again, I remembered just how messy his hair was. Bedhead had nothing on his 'do.

As quickly as I could, I leaned up on my toes and attempted to smooth his hair down. Fortunately, my efforts showed some results, and his hair looked only like someone had half-gelled his hair. Nico silently fumed at me for a moment, before grasping my hand a bit firmer than before.

"We're supposed to look happy." I hissed at him. "It doesn't make us seem like a budding couple if we're scowling as we hold hands." I reminded him.

"Happy." He said experimentally, as if he were trying out the word for the first time.

" Yes, happy." I responded sarcastically. "Now once you find a way to frown wrong-side-up, we'll go to breakfast."

He cracked a smile. A sarcastic, slightly pained smile, but a smile nevertheless. That was good enough for me.

I rushed down to the breakfast hall, and drug him alone behind me. A small, startled gasp passed through the campers as they took in the scene. I imagined they saw a punk girl, blushing and grinning, pulling along Hade's kid, who was actually smiling for once.

I let go of his hand and sat at my table. Nico's hand had been sweaty and slightly clammy, most likely from nerves.

As I gobbled my own breakfast, I watched Nico eat his. It seemed that food improved his attitude, even if by only a little.

I started my classes today. I had signed up for Annabeth's and Percy's swords fighting class; I could never miss an opportunity to harass them. In addition to that, I took a Greek and Latin language class, a simple forging class, and an art elective.

Before I left for my first class, I managed to stop Nico on his way out of the hall.

"So really, what was bothering you?" I inquired. I was even more curious because of his previous vague answer.

He anxiously glanced around, before finally responding. "Nightmares."

I almost laughed. Almost. It was no secret that demigods had nightmares, whether they be about the future, or horrible things they had seen in the past. Surly there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

"Nightmares about what?" I prompted, letting my curiosity get the better of me.

His eyes darkened, and emotions flicked through his gaze. I could read them just like an open book, most of them anyways. I recognized fear, anxiety, and betrayal, but there was one I couldn't quite pinpoint. "Like I said, I don't like talking about it." He muttered.

I sighed. That was probably the most I'd get out of him today. It was all about choosing your battles, and although he hadn't fessed up completely,
I'd persuade him to someday.