Nico

So Christmas... Moving on.

A lot of people think I'm a creep. And I'm not, really, I'm not. I'm just focused right now. Let me tell you a story.

So when I was ten I was still living in Italy with my Mama and sister. We ran into some hard times, money was tight and it was like we kept getting hit with one tragedy after another.

Like... my Mama getting diagnosed with bone cancer, and my sister had to get us on welfare, and we both had to find a way to keep up our Mama's treatments and stay fed. Mama died when I was eleven.

And no that doesn't make my life tragic, this does:

My sister and I were trying to make it on our own. We had almost nothing, but she was sixteen and again I was eleven.

Child services intervened.

They took me away from my sister and put me in a foster home. That's when they contacted my father who had apparently settled down with another woman in Manhattan. So one could say my father and I don't have a great relationship. Especially when I found out he had a kid only months younger than me.

My father decided to step up as a parent and fly me over to Manhattan. Ever since I've lived with my father, stepmother, and stepsister.

My stepmother was pretty cool. I mean she was kind of freaky sometimes because she was into burning incense, and a bunch of voodoo. Still she was cool.

But there's this thing about my life that really sucks. People tend to disappear when I get involved with them. First my Father, then my Mama, then Bianca (my sister), and now Hazel's mom.

Hazel is my stepsister and I actually like her more than I thought I would. She's calm and always sweet enough to give you a cavity. She's no Bianca, but I do feel brotherly toward her.

Now that I've made it abundantly clear who I am and my whole sob story, I can move on because I think you're all caught up.

So I really hate Christmas, and it's not because of that one time my Mama took Bianca and I to the Vatican city for the holiday celebrations. It's because of this warm fuzzy feeling I'm supposed to get.

It's not that I hate the feeling it's just... I don't get that feeling. And I really want to feel like that again.

I had high hopes for this year, because as I said earlier I was extremely focused. And I was focused on getting Bianca in town for the holidays.

Last year during Thanksgiving I started searching for her. I found out that she was a student at some college in Europe I'd never heard of and was working towards her masters degree.

I sent her an email with one of the few images I had from my childhood asking if she remembered me.

Two hours later I got a response. She remembered me and everything that had gone on in our lives leading up to us being separated. I remember getting that email and crying I was so happy.

After that we started talking regularly she told me about her studies and I told her about Manhattan. I learned all about her college life and what she went through after they took me away. She told me she'd love to see Manhattan someday. And thus began my biggest plan ever.

I asked my dad if I could fly Bianca over to the US. He told me she could stay with us if I paid for her airfare. I think he thought I was kidding.

In January I got a job as a bus boy in a local Italian restaurant. Being bilingual in Italian and English was probably what got me the job. But I was thankful, I worked harder than I ever thought I could work. Every free day I had I spent at work. I washed dishes until my hands bled, I was polite to some very rude customers and eventually it paid off. When I booked the flight I had barely any money left in my savings account but it was worth it.

I began saving again for Bianca's trip out here so I could take her out to see the city. I got so caught up in planning all of this that I almost forgot to tell her about my plans.

I surprised her this past October for her birthday.

We were on skype together, I was the only one home and I'd already purchased the ticket for her. When I told her... she looked like I'd knocked the wind out of her. She started crying and I did too. She kept telling me how thankful she was and how excited she was to finally see me in person after all this time.

So that's where I am now. Sitting in an airport that is disgustingly decorated for the holidays. Cheep tinsel and garlands with ornaments falling off of them.

To someone who hadn't been sitting there for three and a half hours you wouldn't have noticed.

But my sisters flight got delayed due to the snow.

So now here I am sitting in a horridly decorated airport four days before Christmas and utterly depressed.

Why does this always seem to happen to me? Why is it, that this season of giving always seems to take something away from me?

I said my prayers like a good person should everyday, just like Mama taught me. Sure, I prayed mostly just to keep Mama with me, but I still prayed. I prayed and thanked Jesus like you're supposed to when good things happen to you.

All year I thanked Jesus that I'd found my sister, that I had a job. I thanked him for my ability to see her almost everyday thanks to the wonders of technology. But Jesus doesn't play fair. Because now as I look up on the flight board I see my sister's flight cancel entirely.

For a moment I'm angrier than I ever thought I could be. But it doesn't last. It is replaced instead with sad painful sobs.

My sister won't be spending Christmas with me and I'm going to have to accept that.

Some woman sits next to me on the bench. I completely ignore her.

"Hello." She says softly. I do not acknowledge her, "Young man." She says more firmly.

I look at her sharply, "What is it?"

"Careful now, we mustn't rush to anger."

"Why not?" I ask harshly.

"Because it's the Holiday season." She says.

"So fucking what?" I don't curse, but right now? I don't care.

"It's alright to be upset." She says, "But it does not do well to dwell on the upsets of our lives." I look at her I'm almost blinded by my tears. "What is it you want?" She asks.

"Why do you care?"

"It's much easier to tell a complete stranger what's wrong than someone you love. We try not to burden the people we love."

"I just. I just wish things would go right. And I wish my sister were here."

"I understand." She says. Then just like that she stands up and leaves me alone. I wipe my eyes as yet another plane unloads its batch of travelers.

I can't help but search the crowd. I know her flight was canceled and I know she isn't there. But I look anyway.

The last person off the plane makes his way to baggage claim.

I decide it'll be best to just find something else to do for Christmas.

I text Hazel asking if she's still out.

She texts back immediately; Yeah, we're on our way to Percy's you can meet up with us.

She didn't know about Bianca, she doesn't even know I have a sister other than her.

I tell her I'm on my way.

As I stand up my eyes go fuzzy from tears and from sitting too long. I stretch back for a moment and rub my eyes.

I hear it first. The sound of pounding feet. When I open my eyes I want to start crying again.

"Piccolo principino!" She calls out before wrapping me in a warm hug, "Il mio dolce piccolo principino."

I kiss her cheeks which are wet with tears, not that I'm surprised, mine are too.

She kisses my face repeating, "Piccolo principino. Il mio dolce piccolo principino." Which translates roughly to little prince, my sweet little prince. Ever since we were little Mama and her would call me that and now it brings back my best memories to mind.

"Bianca, siete cresciuti." I tell her in between my gagging sobs. (Which translates to Bianca you grew up.)

"Così averti, il mio piccolo principino." She retaliates (So have you, my little prince) pulling back to look at me. She's pale, but still has traces of tanning. Her eyes just as dark as mine only hers hold kindness and her joy. Her hair is so long even as it's braided it still must reach her mid stomach.

I take her to baggage claim quickly before getting us a taxi. She tells me that a woman wanted to trade her for a later flight because the rest of her family would be late and they had bumped their flight back. She readily agreed to the offer and tried to text me about the change but couldn't because of the poor weather. The flight wasn't supposed to leave, however, the pilot was determined to take off so he did.

She tells me about her German friend at school, Zoë Nightshade, who now thinks I'm the sweetest kid ever. She tells me over and over again how excited she is to be with me after six years apart.

I decide to take her to my family's apartment first and then take her to Percy's place. She's excited to meet my American friends as well as her stepsister.

When we arrive Mrs. Jackson opens the door, "Nico! What a surprise, Hazel told me you might be dropping by. Come in." There is no way you can't love Mrs. Jackson. It's impossible.

"Thanks Mrs. Jackson." I take off my boots and coat. Bianca looks at me wearily, "Va tutto bene Bianca." I tell her. She is still cautious as she takes off her boots and jacket.

"They're in the kitchen." Mrs. Jackson leads us without questioning Bianca or my use of Italian. Again you have to love this woman.

"Nico!" A chorus of smiling faces greet me. Even, surprisingly, Luke's.

"Hey guys, there's someone I want you to meet." I say gesturing my now timid sister. I wave her forward to stand out of the shadows and right beside me, "Guys this is my big sister Bianca."

Everyone's eyes grow as large as frying pans. Including Percy's mom and dad.

Hazel's face melts into a smile before anyone else. She gets off her chair and walks over slowly.

"Hi Bianca," She says slowly, "I'm Hazel, we're half sisters."

"Ah! Hazel!" Bianca says in a way that yes could have been less stereotypically Italian, but hey we're big on family. Bianca allows a smile to pass over her features, "Nico has told me so much about you!" Bianca is actually fluent in four languages Italian, English, Spanish, and French. She's working on her German. But her English still holds her Italian accent. I notice mine coming out more as well now that she's here with me.

Bianca kisses Hazels cheeks, and Hazel's face grows brighter.

I take Bianca around the table introducing her to everyone of my friends. But then I reach a girl I don't know.

"And who are you?"

"Piper." She shakes my hand and then turns her attention to my sister, "è tua prima volta negli Stati Uniti?" She asks my sister who looks grateful to be able to speak her original language.

"sì, è." My sister responds.

"You speak Italian?" Leo asks incredulously.

"I lived a year in Latina. You pick things up."

"Normally not a whole language." I laugh.

Piper shrugs as my sister begins discussing the plane ride over here and other things to Piper that I really don't think are all that important to the story. The only important thing is that, yes, they begin speaking Italian to one another.

Mrs. Jackson smiles broadly, "I can't believe you have another sister Nico."

"Guys I got a sister for Christmas!" Hazel says smiling so brightly she'll blind us.

I laugh sheepishly, "We were separated when I moved here. I'm just glad I found her."

"There's more hot chocolate here, Nico." Percy says pouring two mugs of blue hot chocolate.

When he hands it to Bianca she gives it an extremely quizzical look.

I laugh a bit, "It's hot chocolate, Bianca." I tell her, "White hot chocolate with blue food dye."

"Oh." She says and gives me a nod. She turns her attention now to everyone else present in the room.

"So you do speak English right?" Hazel asks.

"Yes, it's my second language." She says. She talks about college abroad which fascinates Annabeth. She also tells them how she's planning to move to Manhattan permanently as soon as she graduates. She's going to translate books right here in New York.

My sister is going to live here. After six years of us being separated, she'll be in the same city as me. That is the best Christmas present I could have ever hoped for.

So I guess you can say a lot of weird stuff happens in day to day life.

But it's not everyday that you're visited by an angel who brings you the best gifts of all. My sisters, both of them, Hazel and Bianca. Maybe that girl in the airport was a Christmas angel. Or maybe she was my personal angel who decided I needed a break for once. I make a mental note, as I sip my hot chocolate, to take Bianca to church since I know she'll ask. I send my thanks to Jesus like Mama taught Bianca and I all those years ago.

But I know now, as I feel that warm fuzzy feeling inside my chest, that it's not at all Christmas that makes you feel it. That feeling deep down inside of me? That's the love I have for everyone in this room with me.