Chapter 2

My morning was pretty normal. Mother would wake me up to get dressed. I would come downstairs to eat breakfast with her before going our separate ways. She would tend to her greenhouse or go work on a project for a client. I would head off to school.

The walk to school was uneventful. No one talked to me on the way or when I entered the school. Which puts me where I am now. Heading down the hallway to my locker, I look around at the other students hanging around talking. Some holding hands with their boyfriend or girlfriend, some kissing, others full on making out. Jealousy starts to bubble up in the pit of my stomach. I'm not used to this feeling, it feels weird. I've been jealous before, when I realized I would never get freedom until I'm eighteen. I turn away from them trying to ignore the feeling, while continuing to my locker. As I get to my locker I get the feeling as if someone is watching me. I look every way to reassure myself that no one would be watching me, they never have before. I have been invisible even when I was little. I look to my left, stopping dead in my tracks when I see those blue sapphire eyes that have haunted me all night. The look in his eyes shocks me to my bones. It feels like he is seeping into my soul and take over. I look away from the intensity of his stare. I fumble with my locker, trying to ignore the attention I am not accustomed to having. Getting the combination wrong I try again. My locker opens when I finally get the code in right.

Reaching inside to grab my books I feel my hand touch a box that wasn't in there yesterday. I pull back and stop. A smile plays on my face. Excitement bubbles up inside me so much it almost can't be contained. There on top of my books sit a beautifully wrapped box. A tag hangs from it with my name written on in someone's professional handwriting. My father's. It has been a month since the last box. Sometimes I'll get one every month or couple of weeks. They always contain letters from him, my step mother, and my half siblings. Sometimes there will be gifts in them like jewelry, or photographs. He sent me a blanket when I was twelve with my name sewed in it. He bought it when I was born, and intended for me to have it as a baby. Mother wouldn't let him see me though. Other than the letters and photographs it is the best gift I've been given so far. I pull the box out and tear the wrapping paper off. I haven't tried to keep the boxes since the first one. It's the one I keep all of the gift in. I hid it in the very back of my bottom draw. Mother doesn't really look through my room. I haven't really fought back enough for her to be worried enough to do that yet. I plan to keep it all hidden from her, even after I turn eighteen. I don't need her guilting me for taking the freedom I crave so badly.

BBBBRRRRRRRRIINGGG. BBBRRRRINNNG

The five minute alarm pulls me away from my thoughts. I slip the box along with my textbooks in my bag, hurrying off to homeroom. AP Latin with Ms. Clatic. It is honestly one of my favorite classes here. Second only to being library helper. As long as I help out anyone that needs it and do my library duties I can do anything I want. I normally write my letters to my father during that time. As I walk into class I see that my normal is unoccupied. Not many people like to sit in the very back corner of the room.

"Morning class," Ms. Clatic calls as she walks in, the tardy bell following behind her.

"Morning," most of the class responds.

"We will be going more in depth in the history of romans today." She doesn't wait long before diving into the subject. I follow along taking notes, even adding my own little comments on the sides. I've never understood what made me love latin. Maybe it's the fact that is considered a dead language, or that the history of it just pulls you in. I'm so tuned into the topic of study we are on that I don't hear when someone walks into the classroom. I only realize when I hear the teacher asking them why they are late to her class.

"The slip says it all," that voice, so soft and silky. It flows around me like music in the air. Masculine, but with a touch of honey. I don't think I could ever get tired of hearing it. I look up just as he moves his eyes my way. Staring doesn't last long, as the teacher sternly tells him to find his seat or get out of her classroom. A soft gorgeous smile plays on his lips as he walks in my direction. My heart starts to pound as he walks to the front of my aisle. The closer he gets the faster it pounds. As he is two people away my breathing picks up, as my hands start to get clammy. I fear my heart will jump out of my chest. Breathing stops as he is side to side with me, but he doesn't stop there. He turns away from me, taking the empty seat to my right.

I let out a gust of air, trying to get my heart and breathing regular again. Class goes back to normal, mostly. Now I am extremely self conscious of him being so close. How have I not noticed him before yesterday? Because you have been more worried about freedom than boys. I am starting to learn how to ignore his presence when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Before I can turn to look, something is being shoved into my hand. A piece of paper. Is he wanting to pass notes? Not wanting to get caught talking to a boy, I take it quickly before anyone can see. I look around to make sure no one is watching before opening the paper.

[I'm sorry about knocking you down yesterday. Are you alright? I didn't hurt you did I?]

I feel my face start to heat up with a blush. No one has asked if I was okay before. I've been knocked down millions of times at this school, but I've always been ignored. I debate for awhile on whether or not to write back. He doesn't watch me as he waits. He watches the teacher intently, writing everything down. After staring at him for awhile I finally decide to write back.

{I am fine, thank you. I am not hurt. I promise.}

He doesn't take long before he has it back writing down his reply. He finishes pretty quick, putting the note back on my desk in a flash.

[That's good. I was worried that I had scared you. You booked it pretty fast away from me.]

He thought I was scared of him. I'm not that comfortable around men, but I haven't met any that I am scared of.

{Oh. I'm sorry for worrying you. I was late getting home. My mother was very mad at me.}

I slip it back to him, trying to forget my punishment when I get home later.

[Do you always go straight home?]

{Yes. My mother is very strict about everything. If I am not at school, I am at home. I would be in big trouble if she found out I am talking to you. Rule #1: No boys, whatsoever.}

I still remember the day mother explained to me why boys are bad. I was eight and had seen some kids playing. Most of them were boys with a couple of girls with them. Mother had told me no because there were boys and boys are always bad news. "They will break you. It's better if you never talk to them or let them touch you at all. Don't make eye contact or stare of them. It makes them think they have a right to you."

[Really? Wow. That is pretty crazy. She is just protecting you in her own way though.]

{I know she is doing what she feels is best but I know that not all of the male species is bad. They don't only want girls for just their bodies. They can be good fathers and love too. My father loves me.}

I glance at my bag thinking about the note from my father.

[Who is your father?]

{Zeus Striker.}

I wait for the crazy reaction I know I will get. I know most people know who he is. He tries to hold back his shock but his posture portrays him.

[Really!? The CEO of Lightening Sky Corporations is your father. Doesn't he have twelve kids, and is on his third marriage? I remember him saying he doesn't get to see a couple of his daughters in his last press conference.]

I fight hard to suppress the urge to laugh at his surprise. I know my father does interviews and press conferences. I hear about them at school all the time, but mother would never allow for me to watch television.

{Yeah, that's my father. I've only seen him in person once. We send letters to each other though.}

I remember the first time I got a letter from him. It randomly appeared in my backpack one day when I was in third grade. Since than we have been sending them back and forth. My siblings started adding in their own beginning of fourth grade.

[There's so much you're not allowed to do. What are you allowed to do?]

{Nothing really. I get to walk to school and back. She picks out my clothes, what I eat, what I do, who I talk to. I'm not really allowed to make friends. She never approves of them. She put me in a club though. Didn't ask, just picked one for me.}

[What club are you joining?]

{The horticulture club.}

[I'm in that club. We could always use more people. I can show you where to go after school.]

I'll get to be near him a little longer. A smile graced my face at the thought of spending more time with him. Before I can reply to him though the bell alerting to the end of class interrupted me. I look up at him, seeing that he is gathering his things together, I do too. We don't say anything to each other as we walk to the door.

"Persephone," I stop to look at Ms. Clatic. "Can I talk to you for a moment. I'll write you a pass to your next class." I look over at Aides as he walks out the door. "Have a seat for a minute sweetie," she gestures to the desk closest to her. Once I've set down, she sits in the desk to my right. "You know I don't allow note passing in my class, but I also think it's wonderful that you are branching out." What? "You have been in my class since freshman year Latin 1. You have always been isolated from your classmates. I know this is your mother's doing. The principal informed all of us from the start that she doesn't want you to have contact with males whatsoever. I haven't inforced this, nor do I ever plan to." My mother really has eyes everywhere. "You need freedom. You need to be able to be a teenager. That involves making friends, falling in love, and yes sometimes getting your heart broken. You need to blossom, not be stuck in a pot to be kept away your whole life. What I'm trying to say is, you can be free to be yourself in my classroom. If you ever need to talk, or have questions, you can always come to me."