This is real hum dinger of a chapter. I could have made it longer, but it's 11 PM, and I'm really lazy. Sorry, too bad for you. I don't really care.
Chapter 4
Belmont Park Part 2
Throwing Up, and the Events After
The race started. I sat next to Lin, in the fine mist. The horses were churning the hard packed dirt into mud. Mud streaked their flanks, sweat gleamed on their shoulders, and foam dripped from their mouths. The gaily clad jockeys whipped the horses to go faster. The lightning crackled, and I heard the whinny of horses.
My mother opened the gate, and I saw that her hair was lying limply on her shoulders, a bit bedraggled. She looked a bit pale. I decided that it must be the stress and weather. She held two ice creams.
I took one and handed it to Lin. She was so absorbed in the race that she took it without looking.
"Who do you think is going to win?" I asked, squinting at the track. The rain misted out the features of the horses. Mud splatters on their hides hid the numbers. I could barely tell one horse from another.
"I think it's going to be that horse, Earl Grey. He's in the lead." Lin replied, licking her ice cream without paying an ounce of attention to it.
"I think the winner will be Lady Lightfoot. She's quick, a good sprinter. Earl Grey's got endurance, but he's built for strength, not speed." I went on. "Lady Lightfoot is being held back, do you see that there's no slack on the reins. She isn't being whipped. Obviously, her jockey wants to save her for the last furloughs."
"You might be right…" Lin rubbed her eyes, frowning. Then she hissed, "She should not be here! This goes against all rules…Pegasus's children…."
"Excuse me?" This was strange. I didn't know what she was looking at. She turned to me.
"I'm sorry; I just thought I knew someone in the crowd over there." Lin waved her arm of the stands vaguely. "It turned out not to be."
We watched the horses. At the last bit of the race, Lady Lightfoot's jockey started goading her with the whip. She speeded up, passing Earl Grey, a dappled stallion. There was a cheer from the crowd and flash of cameras. Lady Lightfoot had one, by a full head.
Lightfoot was brought panting to the front. Her owner clapped the back of the jockey and poured a bottleful of champagne into the golden trophy cup. He passed it around, everyone taking a sip from the well won prize. Then, when everyone was through, the leftovers were emptied on the ground and replaced with water. The cup was given to Lady Lightfoot. She drank noisily, greedily, as she deserved for winning. I clapped. A wreath of roses was hung about her neck.
I heard a moan from Lin. She had thrown up over the railing, and I could see a dribble of vomit coming from the corner of her mouth. "What's wrong?"
"I'm lactose intolerant." She managed to choke out, and then she emptied her stomach again over someone below's head. I remembered that she had eaten an ice cream, and the popcorn was liberally coated with butter.
Lin held her stomach, her face pale, her mouth taught with pain. I picked her up. "Mom, can we go now? Lin is sick…"
My mother frowned worriedly. "You can take her to our place and clean her up. I'll bring the bike back." She fiddled in her purse for her keys and handed them to me.
"Bye, mom. See you later." I walked down the steps, holding Lin in my arms. It was hard to keep my balance. Lin writhed in agony, and convulsed. She threw up again. It was surprising to see that Lin was thin, but well muscled. Most girls I knew were soft little wimps. Lin's hands were callused, unlike mine.
I took Lin's phone from her pocket. She ignored me, and I could see she was really in pain. I went through the speed dial until I found one labeled "Dad". I called that number.
The phone rang for a few seconds, and then it was picked up. A man's voice answered. "Hello? Lin?"
"I'm Alexei Prentiss, and your daughter is sick." I gave him my address where he could find us, and went to the parking lot.
I found my mother's car, and opened the driver's side door. I put Lin in the back, doing her seat belt up for her. She was whimpering in pain, and I had never seen her like that. Then I remembered that she was afraid of torture, pain, and agony.
Lin curled up in her seat, her face a mask of her pain. I drove my mother's car. It was a black Lincoln, and it smelled like my mother's perfume.
It took twenty minutes to get to the apartment. I had to unbuckle Lin's seat belt, carry her up to the lobby, into the elevator, and then the apartment. I dropped her onto a sofa. A few minutes later, the door banged open, and there stood my mother, sopping wet.
She saw Lin on the couch, and her hand flew up to her mouth. "I'll get some water, just wait a few minutes…" She went to the kitchen and came back with a tall white pitcher. The door bell rang. "I'll get it!"
I was cleaning Lin's face with a towel when I heard the sound of shattering pottery.
I ran over to the door. The floor was littered with shattered pieces of the pitcher. Water ran over the tile floor. But what I found was the most disturbing that the water was tinted pink, like water colors. I saw drops of red, dripped onto the white tile like dark red paint. I thought that it was sort of creepy that I thought of paintings.
My mother's feet and shins were bleeding. She stared at the man in the door way, and he stared back at her wet dress and hair.
"Min…" He whispered. My mother backed away, her mouth an "O" shape. Blood streamed from various cuts on her legs.
"What is going on here?" I asked. "Are you Lin's dad? Because she's being sick on the carpet."
"Who are you?" The man's eyes narrowed and he looked menacing. I stepped back, back to the living room.
"Nico!" I heard my mother say. "You should not be here! Just take your daughter and leave."
They both came to the living room, toward Lin, the girl on the couch, and me. I looked up.
"Min…she's your daughter too." The man said softly.
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" I screamed. This day was messed up. I had hoped for perfection, but Murphy's Lawjust had to ruin everything.
Lin's father turned to me. My mother slumped onto a couch, her head in her hands. "Who are you, boy?" He asked, rather sharply.
"I'm Alexei Nikolai Prentiss." I just stared at him, taking in his dark hair and the similarity and differences to Lin.
"Prentiss…" He said, so quietly I could barely hear him. "Not that pompous love sick fool…"
"Yes, that 'pompous fool', Nico." My mother held her face in her hands, staring at the floor. "I had no choice."
"Yes, you did, Min. You always had a choice." The man's eyes flashed dangerously. "You could have left and run away with me. Like you did seventeen years ago."
"I don't want a life on the run, Nico." My mother started crying, and the man sat next to her, wrapping his arms around her shaking shoulders. "I don't want to die by violence. You can't save me all the time."
"Why don't you go now, who ever you are," I suggested. This man had way too much familiarity with my mother, and I didn't like that. A stranger like that must be a pervert, I thought.
The man looked up. "You must be the child. You have your mother's fire in you, boy. But don't let it get the best of you."
"What's happening? Why aren't you leaving? And is my mother Lin's mother?" This was all getting confusing, muddled in my head.
He turned back to my mother. "Min, I can save you. Just let me. You are so sad, I can feel it."
"Not without consequences, Nico. You know it. You can't do or have anything you want, Nico. You've never understood why. You're just a spoiled brat." My mother remarked scathingly. "What we've had…if we ever had anything…it's over now. Just go, Nico, GO!"
"Spoiled brat, eh, Minerva?" He looked around, gesturing at our apartment. "How much does a place like this cost, Min? Millions, easily. And your son…He's a spoiled, selfish little kid. And you don't understand, Min, do you?" He shook his head sadly.
"Nico, everything has to be paid for. I paid, and I don't want to give up anything more. I'm sorry." My mother shook her head. "Your father, he'd never let us go. He just had to take my first born. And you let him." She slapped the man, right across his face.
He got up abruptly. "I know that he's a real Rumplestiltskin, but that's the way things go. At least nothing really bad happened."
"You call him taking my daughter good?! He's your own father!" My mother also got up, and started to stomp towards the door. The man held her arm.
Lin, on the couch stirred. "Dad…you're here."
Author's Notes: REVIEW, PLEASE. If what you're thinking is sort of weird, then it's probably true. Next chapter is going to be a real revelation of story.
Read my other stories, like Jesus Comes to Camp Half Blood, Why Do I Always Run Out of Room When I Choose Titl, and The Weight of the Sky.
I need reviews, or I'll kill everyone off. I"m that bad.
I've been doing character sketches (I'm an artist), and it's pretty fun. Cassile is hard, with her attitude and personality and dyed black hair. You were wondering why she was in the library with a book on Greek mythology? Well, review, and you just may see.
Peace out.