Ethan~

At some point I fall asleep on the plane ride, which is very unlike myself. I wake up when I land in Chicago, then get on the second plane, the one that goes to Newark, New Jersey. When I get off the plane, I see a blonde lady with kind gray eyes.

"Are you Annabeth?" I ask her.

"You must be Ethan. Welcome to New Jersey," she says in a precise British accent that makes her sound even smarter than she already looks with those piercing gray eyes. I think, she must be a professor of something. "Follow me. I have a car, I'll drive you to where you'll be staying with Riley for a while."

I know not to trust strangers, it's the first thing you learn when you live in a big city, but this woman looks so wise and so kind, that I follow her anyway

She has a nice car that I assume is rented, but it's cool anyway. We stop at an apartment complex just outside of the city.

"Here we are. Your room is 317. Riley should still be inside. And do be nice to her, she's feeling just as uncomfortable as you are."

I grab the key and open the door to the car and step out. She pulls away and I stare up at the tall building. Somewhere inside there is a strange room with a strange girl in it who has a strange voice, and there is strange furniture and strange food and that is to be mine for the time that I am in New York.

I unlock the door and a girl, presumably Riley, is sitting on the sofa wearing a gray newsboy cap, stroking a random cat.

"Where'd you get the cat?"

She looks inquisitively up at me. Then she gets abruptly up, taking the cat with her, and walks to the bedroom. I sigh and bring my suitcase to the side of the sofa opposite to where Riley was sitting before. I sit down. Eventually Riley walks to the tiny kitchen, so I take the chance to explore the way-too-small-for-two-people-who've- never-met house. I leave my suitcase by the sofa and walk into the only bedroom. I glance around the room and close my eyes, exasperated. There is one, queen sized bed in the room.

I walk back to the living area and take the cushions off the sofa. Of course it's not a pull-out bed. I slouch on the cushionless sofa and put my hands over my eyes.

"I've already checked. You're the one sleeping on the floor," at this, Riley flops on the sofa and kicks her legs onto my side.

She takes her hat off and puts it over her face. I sit there awkwardly for a minute until she says, "Well make yourself comfortable. It's your flat too," from under her hat. I chuckle at her British ways and swing my legs up next to hers the opposite way. I grab the remote and turn on the television to a random channel I can see her wince beneath her hat. As long as she can't see me, I take a chance to get a good look at her. She was beautiful: thick blonde hair that just reached her shoulders, a slim figure, and just the right height.

As always, on instinct, my hands start flying, making some gadget out of random materials around me. Some people get annoyed by this habit, and clearly Riley did not enjoy it.

"Can you not? That's my stuff you're messing around with. I'd prefer you didn't," she says sarcastically and angrily.

I look down at my hands to see what I was doing. I have made some sort of machine thing, that I have no idea what it does, but my fingers move at the speed of light to take it apart. I set all the pieces on the table and look at her ashamed.

"What's your favorite color? Mines blue," She swiftly continues not giving me a chance to speak my opinion.

"Umh...red probably. Why?"

"I don't enjoy humans, and Annabeth, my hero, told me to be nice to you. So I'm giving you a chance. It would be awkward if we never spoke."

"Yeah but It's even awkwarder to speak to a strange girl that has a funny voice."

"Why don't you like it. Everyone in America likes it."

"Ok, I like it, whatever," I say rolling my eyes, though I really did like it. It made her sound like a genius. "Just go to bed. We've got places to be tomorrow, things to learn-"

"Fictional characters to meet," she says with a dreamy expression.

"Oh, you're one of those kind of girls," I say with a look of disgust.

"Yeah, I'm one of those kinds of girls. Got a problem with that?"

"Yeah sort of. Now go to bed for goodness sake."

She gets up and walks to the small bedroom and I hear a "you're not my mum," in a sarcastic voice. I sigh and set out a blanket on the sofa and lie down. It's going to be a long stay.