I don't own PJO.
CHAPTER 10
I'm standing in my cabin, every article of clothing strewn around me in a hopeless mess, and there is nothing I can wear.
A few weeks have passed since the Council meeting, and the others are still hostile and suspicious of me. Annabeth has been doing some intense reading, but has found nothing to help me understand what is happening. However, I have had no more dreams or attacks, so I think maybe the chaos has died down.
Aaron and I have been training, intensely, and I must say, he has come a long way. He can beat me most days in sword fighting and wrestling, though he'll never be able to match my agility or speed. And every day we practice, I glean a little more knowledge of him. I get an inch closer to him. I relax a little more in his presence.
Like yesterday. We fought hard with swords, so hard that mine broke and Aaron got a bruise on his ribs. A few minutes later, he was telling me funny stories of his middle school days. Like how he made the water fountain explode one day at school and how, when he was little, he use to make replicas of great monuments out of legos with his mom, like the Eiffel tower or the Great Wall. And how when he was little, monster would sneak into his room and try and kill him so much that his dad made a habit of sharing his room. They would spend the night making shadow puppets against the wall and telling funny stories and laughing as they tried to stay quiet so as to not make Annabeth suspicious. And Aaron says he would wake up in the morning laying on his dad's chest and he would no nothing would ever hurt him as long as he had his dad.
I think we're friends now.
Anyway, the summer solstice is today and a group of demigods are invited to the gala that is taking place at Olympus, including me and Aaron. Great, right? No. It's not great. All because of the word "gala". See, if it was a Solstice Party or a Solstice Barbeque, that would entitle some kind of informality. But gala adds a whole new layer of posh-ness and dress-up and clothes that I don't own.
I'm trying different combinations of things I already own, but nothing helps. Every article of clothing that I have is in some muted, boring shade. I can't keep pretending that changing the part in my hair will do me some good.
There's a knock on my door. Frustrated with the mess around me, I answer it. It's Annabeth, already dressed for the gala, and she looks stunning. Her curly blonde hair is tied in a small braid, then let down her back, free from her face. Her face is clear and bright, a deep shade of red painted across her lips. She's wearing a black dress with a sweetheart neckline (don't ask how I know that, I think I saw an episode of Say Yes to the Dress once) and transparent black sleeves. Her dress is made in such aw way that it swirls around her in elegant waves, like the ocean.
"You look beautiful." I gasp.
"And you look unprepared." She lets herself into the cabin and surveys the mess. She looks at me and nods, with the determination of a way general. "Let's go to my room, I think I have just what you need." And she takes my hand, pulling me quickly behind her. Her dress flies around her like a huge black bird.
In Annabeth's room in the Big House, she sits me in front of a large vanity as she searches through her closet. She flings out several shirts, pants, and assorted object before she says, "Aha! Got it." She hides the dress from me, but I manage to get a glimpse of something silvery.
Then she gets to work preparing me. She ties my hair back in an elegant bun, reminding me of that princess movie Anastasia. She covers my face in a thin layer of powder, though I hardly need it, and begins to paint in my features. Thick, dark eyelashes, deep blue eye shadow, glossy pink lips. It's the first time in my life that I've ever tried improving my looks, and it gets tiresome very fast. I'm fidgeting in the chair so much she has to yell at me to sit still plenty of times.
After a while, she gets me up and slips me into the dress, eyes closed. The fabric feels smooth and silky against my skin. She helps me into a pair of heels that aren't dangerously high and then she lets me open my eyes to behold my reflection.
The young women in front of me is otherworldly. Her dress is strapless and long, pooling around her feet, and shimmers like pure moonlight has solidified around her in an elegant case. The slight shift of her feet sends the dress into gentle rises and falls, like the wind, and gives her the illusion of perfect grace. Her vibrant red hair contrasts the blue-silver sheen of her body. Her face is perfect, glowing like her dress, like the moon. She is the manifestation of the beauty of the midnight sky.
"I think," I whisper. "That this is the first time I've ever felt really beautiful."
Annabeth laughs. "No, no, no. You have always been beautiful. The dress is simply a sparkly accessory that gets tangled by your shoes and makes it hard to breath. Here." She hangs a transparent wrap around my shoulders, which does nothing for me at all. She also puts shimmery glass earrings on my and puts a thin silver chain with a matching glass bead around my neck.
"Now, that's that." Annabeth takes a step back to admire her work. "You look perfect."
"I don't feel perfect." I hug the wrap closer against me. "I feel weird and exposed and I think I need to re-apply deodorant."
"Don't be silly, you're fine." She says. "Though, maybe we should fix that deodorant problem."
When we leave the cabin, the sun is lowering itself gently into the sky. The others are waiting for us at the top of Half-Blood hill and the hike up there is grueling. Apparently, you're not allowed to grab all of your frustrating dress and walk up a hill like a normal person, oh no. A lady walks with miles of fabric tangling up her feet and yet she still manages to remain perfectly beautiful. Frankly, I think it's impossible. Yet Annabeth seems to do it with ease. So I guess it's just me.
When we reach the top of the hill, I'm panting and I've said many words that I don't want to repeat. Almost instantly, every eye locks on to me and I try and stop the blood rushing to my cheeks. I can't but be disappointed by the appearance of several of the Council members, including Micheal and Daryl. But I don't pay attention to the for long, because Aaron is waiting for me.
He's dressed in a striking black suit, but it looks cool and edgy somehow. His collar is high, and he's wearing something white that isn't a tie, reminding me of Mr. Darcy. The lapels of his jacket and his cuffs are a deep, dark blue. He has coat tails. Coat tails. Who else could pull off coat tails, but Aaron?
When I walk up to him, he says, "Wow. You look... Wow."
"Thanks." There's a moment of silence when we size each other up. I almost think we're about to go to a training session or something and I should tell him to do some push-ups. Or something. "You're mom," I finally say. "You're mom, she, um, she helped me get ready for this."
"Well, she did a good job of fixing you up."
"Uh..." I say, confused.
"No, not that-"
"It's okay, I-"
"I mean, you always look great."
"Thanks."
"Not that I always, ya know, pay attention to everything-"
"Yeah, I understand."
We stand in another pause for a while before Aaron starts laughing. His laugh, it's deep yet clear and bright. I start laughing with him, not knowing what's funny.
"Wow," He says. "I don't understand why I'm so nervous." He runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair and laughs again.
I open my mouth to say something, but a girl suddenly comes up beside Aaron. She's blonde and beautiful. I think I remember her from the fight at the arena. Anyway, she looks stunning, her hair straightened to perfection, her lips vibrant violet. Her dress wraps around her in violent shades of purple, orange, red, pink, and yellow. Like an abstract representation of a spring time meadow.
"Aspasia," Aaron says. "This is Colette Eyrie. Daughter of Demeter. Colette, this is-"
"Violent ginger chick?" She asks with the last traces of a British accent. "Ah yes, I'm aware of who she is." She gives a plastic smile, like she can say she was kidding but she's hoping to get under my skin.
"Nice to meet you." I say, a little proud of the gruff reality of my own voice. I hold out a hand to shake, but she just stares at it, almost humored by it, and decides to give a little curtsy. Of course she effing curtsies. She's gorgeous, she's British, and she freaking curtsies. Aaron looks really uncomfortable, glancing at her, then me, then her.
"So," I say awkwardly, dropping my hand. "Do you guys know when we're leaving?" Colette just shrugs and when Aaron opens his mouth, a long limo pulls up at the bottom of the hill. I'm assuming it's our ride and everyone runs down to meet it.
Out of the front passenger seat, a handsome man opens the door and pops out. His jet black hair is disheveled and messy, his face covered in a five o'clock shadow. He's tall and broad, darkened by the sun. His suit is black, but his tie is a sunny yellow. His face splits into a bright smile.
"Pardon me." He says, resting his weight against the limo. "But it seems like you folks are in need of a hero." He strikes a heroic pose and eyes the crowd around him to see if they're laughing. They are.
"You wouldn't happen to know a good one, would you?" Annabeth says as she makes her way through the crowd. The elation on her face and the face of the man is so pure and beautiful as they embrace each other and share a soft kiss.
I assume the man before me is the Percy Jackson.
"Hey Dad." Aaron steps forward and the two of them share one of those rough, father-son, slap-on-the-back kind of hugs that makes you wanna smile. They start wrestling a bit, messing each other's hair and such, when Chiron comes forward, looking dapper in his wheelchair form and a plaid bow tie.
"So good of you to actually get here on time, my boy." He says, with a kind of gruff fondness.
"What can I say?" Percy shrugs. "Traffic, it's a killer. Plus, you'd think a man with a bajillion eyes would be a good driver, but not so much."
"Whatever." Annabeth says. "Let's just get going."
"Of course." Percy rubs his hands together and opens up the passenger door. "Let's blow this Popsicle stand!"
We line up and make our way in the limo one by one. When I come up to the door, Percy says, "Are you the infamous Aspasia?"
"Guilty." I blush and smile as politely as possible.
"Well," He says. "I certainly hope you're not going easy on my son." He smiles brightly and I relax a bit.
"Wouldn't dream of it." I step into the limo and am a little disappointed. The inside takes the form of a school bus situation, with busted up brown seats and a dingy floor. I look for Aaron but find Colette sitting by him, pointedly ignoring me. A little embarrassed, I make my way to the back and plop down, already in a bad mood. For a while, I sit alone, simmering. However, after a while, a guy sits down next to me.
He's short and thin, his skin olive toned with a splash of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His hair is auburn, shifting from chocolate brown to reddish. He looks nice in a purple bow tie and gray suspenders. He turns to me and his hazel eyes are bright.
"Jean Hawkins. Son of Hecate." He holds out a hand.
"Aspasia Williams. Daughter of Artemis."
We shake hands and he says, "Yeah. I know who you are."
"Yeah, apparently a lot of people do." I sit back in the seat, probably ruining my image of a graceful lady with my awful posture.
"I wonder what it's like." Jean murmurs excitedly. "Olympus and all that."
"Probably big." I say. "Overcrowded. Posh. Probably not worth going too."
Jean looks at me and smirks. "Today isn't your day, is it?"
I look up at him. "Is it that obvious?" He nods and I smile pitifully. Well, at least I have a new friend.
We make our way to the city slowly and I can feel it coming. As we get farther and farther from the Wild, I feel something in me fade. Some kind of comfort and security vanishes once the buildings appear and the sky turns a kind of gray. The air tastes different in my lungs, feels different on my skin. I shiver and Jean puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. Normally, I would be weirded out by it, but the sheer warmth of his skin is enough to put me at ease.
The window at the front of the bus, which has the appearance of a normal separator between a limo driver and the passengers, drops down and Percy looks back at all of us.
"Welcome," he says. "To New York."