Kayla's POV:

I know what you're wondering about. How did the parrying date go? I think this will answer your question: Aaron's now in the infirmary, trying to recover from a twisted ankle and sprained wrist.

I walked into the room, where Aaron looked up from his seat in an infirmary bed. His foot was propped up on a pillow, and he had some sort of glove on his wrist. He gave me a faint smile, as I asked, "Is it really as bad as the medics said?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. The medics don't know what they're talking about. I'll be fully recovered by the end of this week."

I stared at the floor. "I'm sorry," I rushed out. "It's just that, you told me to give it my all—"

"Yeah, I did. Just, next time, don't give it so much," Aaron told me, sitting up in the bed to get into a comfortable position.

"So, basically it's your fault," I pointed out.

He stared at me. "Really? You're accusing me, while I'm the one injured?"

I nodded, when Lucas walked in. He grinned at Aaron, "Damn! You did get your ass beat by a girl!"

Aaron glared at Lucas to shut up, but he kept rambling. "Man, when the other warriors said you were in the infirmary because Kayla put you in your place—I told them they were trippin'! But, no—here you are, crippled and bruised, licking your wounds! Oh man, people are going to love this!" He flipped out a camera phone and began recording. "Aaron, give a big smile to the ladies on the other side of the state!" Before he could protest, Lucas turned so that the camera took me in. "Kayla," he asked, sounding like a news reporter, "how do feel about whipping Aaron's white ass?"

"Um, good?" I asked, uncertain of what to say. Lucas grinned, making sure that the camera looked my entire body over. "You heard it people! Kayla West feels good about beating Aaron to a pulp! And… damn… are you single? 'Cause, if you were a Facebook profile, I'd be poking you all night!"

Aaron shouted, "Okay, Luke! That's it! You're officially off the web!" Aaron picked up a bottle of water that he'd been drinking and threw it at Lucas's phone camera. Lucas dodged, causing the water to go straight to me. I threw my hands up in the air to shield my face… but didn't have to. The water was floating … in midair. Lucas and Aaron gawked.

"Holy shit! How are you doing that?" Lucas marveled, staring at the water.

I stared at it. "I don't know," I told them. We watched the water solidify into an ice-blue sword. Its edges smoked a multicolored mist and the hilt was of a type of old dark metal, one that radiated evil and fear. When my fingers clasped around the hilt, I looked at Lucas and Aaron. They had these bubbles floating over their heads—a dog the size of Cerberus snarled in Lucas's bubble; in Aaron's bubble stood him, watching his mother and his sister getting killed, over and over again, their screams a sickening repetition in my ears along with a woman and man's booming laughter. I realized these were their fears, large dogs and people dying.

I forced myself to let the sword clatter out of my hand. I felt power hungry, as if the very feeling of the sword—of the fear—made me crazy with envy for it. Lucas was still staring at it, as he asked, "Why'd you let go?"

I didn't answer, just kicked the sword until it connected with the wall and shattered in a million pieces. I look up at the two guys, and asked them, "Where's the boundary line from here?"

"Why?" Aaron asked, suspiciously.

"Because I need to take a walk. To clear my head," I tapped my forehead for emphasis.

Lucas shrugged. "Take a left from here, a right, and you should come to the edge of the boundary. It's next to a weeping willow." Lucas looked up to meet Aaron's glare. "What? It can't hurt anyone to take a walk, Air."

I followed Luke's instructions and passed the weeping willow. I told a leap out and looked around at the landscape. My eyes met a large billboard that exclaimed You are now in Florida!

I looked around. The place was basically a beach town—complete with white sand beaches, palm trees and an amazing sunset. I walked over to the beach to calm my nerves. I sat down on the white sand and took my tennis shoes off. I let my toes dig into the sand and watched the waves lap the shore. I stared at the orange waves, watching them crash. I whispered under my breath, "Please, Dad. Send me a sign. I'm freaking out here."

Nothing came, just the crashing lull of the waves against the shore. It made me think of a song, and before I could stop myself, I was singing aloud:

Are you out there, where the rainy days begin?

To feel rather sad and the walls are closing in, like the darkness around me,

It's so hard to look away, when the daylight doesn't ever stay,

Above this dull apartment view, oh I will surround you.

It's quite clear that I'm stuck here,

So I'll devise a plan and cut out a door in my new living room floor.

The porch light, is so bright,

That I will quickly sneak down the dark metal shape of the rusty fire escape.

I bought a one-way ticket, 'cause I knew I'd never see the ground,

Unless I was aboard a jet plane and we going down.

When I wiped the tears from my eyes, the warm water took me by surprise.

And I woke up beside ocean, I realized—I must be in California!

Aloha, my happy West Coast friends.

Do you feel alive when the breaking waves arrive, and rush all around you?

The beach homes in Oceanside are quite well known by the evening tide,

And we can sleep where we reside, with redwoods around us.

The blue air is up there, and could I bring it down,

I'd bottle it up and save it for a sweet summer night.

I was halfway finished with the song when I heard Aaron's voice say, "Whoa. How'd you learn to sing like that?" I widened my eyes, turning to see him limping his way to take a seat beside me.

"Naturally, I guess," I told him, blushing.

"You know, you should sing for the camp," he suggested.

I shook my head feverishly fast. "No. I have stage fright. I'm fine…"

He shook his head, gazing at me. "Kayla, you should at least think about it. Before the war, we pump up the warriors with music. It works wonders. If you sang, I know we're going to win."

"What if I don't want Gaea to win?" I asked him harshly.

He pulled his knees to his chest and gazed at the setting sun. "If you don't want her to win, how'd you wind up here?"

I shrugged. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

We were silent for a long time. Then, Aaron told me, "Sing a song that will make everyone realize that the war is wrong."

I turned and stared at him. "I thought you wanted her to win."

He shook his head. "That's what she wants to hear. But, I don't care anymore. I'll probably wind up dead by the end of it, anyways."

I stared at his hard expression. "Why would you think like that?"

"Because my fate is already sealed," he said.

"And, what do you mean by that?"

"The prophecy. It states my death like a sore thumb," Aaron mumbled.

"Tell me it," I pestered.

He caved in, and began to recite it,

"Warriors lost in bloodlust and grief,

Shall be brought to light by Pandora's speak.

Olympus shall crash and burn,

Unless the Pandorian can decide whom to serve.

The sons of Hermes and Hades must agree,

In order to save the daughter of the Sea."

I sat there, letting the prophecy's words soak in. "I didn't hear anything about your death," I told him.

"There's one last line," He seemed pained to tell me. "The son of Hermes will lose his life, by the blade of the cursed knife."

I stared at the orange waves to avoid his eyes. I subconsciously grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back.

"You know what this reminds me of?" He asked, staring at the sea.

"Like what?"

"My sister, Sam. She used to love the ocean and since we lived so close, I brought her down here every morning. We'd pick up seashells before the tide rolled in," Aaron got a distant glint in his eyes, which turned dangerously sad. "Sam was only nine when it happened. When the monsters came for me. It was my fault. I told them to stay inside, that I'd handle it. Sam left her swimsuit out to dry so she went to go get it … and she couldn't see because of the Mist—it bit her before I could stab it and I couldn't stop the blood flow and the poison was already in her bloodstream—"

His tears cut him off. His body was racked in sobs, making him shake uncontrollably. I wrapped my arms around him in shock, and said, "Aaron! It wasn't your fault that she died!" I rubbed his back, holding him close as he continued to cry. He pulled me close until the sobs stopped coursing through his body. He wiped his eyes against his sleeve and looked up at me. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to break down like that. It's just …"

I held up a hand. "It's okay, Aaron. You know, it's okay to cry sometimes—it shows you care."

He stared at me, wiping a damp cheek with the back of his hand. "Thanks," he whispered.

"How about I take you up on your offer for singing to the warriors?" I told him.

His face lit up slightly. "If you need a backup singer, I'll be there. And, if you need someone to have your back, I'll be there before you even know you need it."

I smiled at him as we both stood up, discussing music plans.

But, the only thing on my mind was one thing, or one person: Nico, who was nowhere near here, was a major part of the prophecy. He was my life or my demise—just like Aaron. And, to make matters worse, I just signed up to sing in public. If I survived that, I could survive anything, even this war.

Or, I could die trying. That was the worthy hero way.

I don't own the song West Coast Friendship by Owl city. I don't own PJO, because I am not Rick Riordan.

Thanks for reading. Man, I'm on a roll—second time I've posted in the same week. Man, I'm so proud of myself. I'm also proud, because according to my reading teacher, my poems are awesome!

So, a haiku because I'm bored:

Thank you for reading,

I hope your heart is beating,

For I really care.

I'm sorry, but that was terrible. That's the true work of Apollo up there. He'd probably put it in the Hall of Lousy Haikus, right beside his own.

Review, please!