Chapter 14

Nico's Point of View

I'm sitting with my knees to my chest watching the sun peek out from behind its clouds. The world is this pretty, pale blue light, and for a moment, everything is peaceful. Everything is okay.

Then I hear footsteps thundering up the stairs and I have to get up to see what's going on. I'm about to open my bedroom door when someone else opens it from the outside and hits me in the head.

As I rub the pounding spot, I'm reminded of the time Jason hit me with a door, after Dylan threw his applesauce at me. Even that memory of being soaking wet and smelling like baby food seems like I good one by now.

This time, though, it's Hazel, not Jason, who's responsible for my new injury. I shouldn't feel disappointed, but I do.

She enters, apologizing profusely. Her eyes are red and rimmed with tears. She looks… angry, almost, but that's not quite it; I can't put my finger on it. I don't think I've ever seen her like this, though, and it scares me a bit. It hits me that yes, she's yellow like the sunflowers that grow in the summer, but she's also the color of the sun. And the sun could burn up the world if it wanted to.

What she does next, though, surprises me. She steps forward, and I almost think she might hit me, but she doesn't. Instead, she throws her arm around my shoulders and buries her face in my neck. Though I'm completely bewildered, I wrap my arms around her waist; I don't know what else to do. We stay like that for a long while, and it feels good. I close my eyes.

When she pulls away, it looks like her heart has grown heavy in her chest.

Then she surprises me again. She wraps her hand around my wrist and- ow. The stinging of my cuts flares up again.

"Ow, don't, stop," I say in a strangled voice as I attempt to pull away. "What the hell are you doing?"

Then she yanks up my sleeve and I know. I turn away; I don't want to see the look on her face when she sees them. Jason's and Percy's and Reyna's faces were bad enough.

"I didn't want to believe it," she breathes. Her voice sounds the way I'd imagine a breaking heart sounds like when it shatters. "Why didn't you tell me?" she demands. "Look at me!"

I do, and it's even worse than I imagined. The look on her face is worse than everyone else's combined. It's shock and fear and rage and pain and it's horrible. And it's all my fault. I'm the one who made her feel all of these awful things.

"I- I didn't want to hurt you," I say finally, as her eyes bore into me. It is true, but that's as much of the truth as I want to give. One time, when I was maybe 13, this kid dared me to hold a lit cigarette to my skin. Being young and stupid, I did it. I still have the scar from it. How can I tell her that the shame I feel is like a cigarette burning away at my insides? Everyone is always so shocked when they find out, but they don't know that I'm always shocked with myself, every minute of every say. It's like I'm constantly rediscovering my scars, and every time I do, it's in a worse light.

"Don't you think it hurts, knowing you kept this from me?" she says, all of a sudden eerily calm. "Jason knew before me. What makes you trust him over me?"

"It's not like that," I begin. "He found out on accident. I didn't tell him. I didn't tell anyone. But I do- I trust you."

"Right. Just not with the important things."

"Just listen, okay?" I say. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to think less of me, or to be afraid of me, or, or-"

"Nico," she cuts me off. "I would never think less of you for something like this. Ever."

Her voice is so firm, and I feel so… not firm. I just stare at her, unable to form a coherent thought.

"You are my favorite person in this world. You know that, right? You know that."

For a second I have to wonder if it's true. Do I know that? Part of me feels like she's just saying that because she feels like she has to.

"You're mine too," I say finally, in a child-like voice.

Her eyes soften, and she hugs me again.

A minute later she pulls away saying, "Wait."

"What?"

She grabs my arm again, though more gently this time, and examines it.

"How did you get stitches without going to a hospital? You didn't, did you?"

"Oh. Um…" I hesitate, knowing she won't be happy with me. "Jason did them for me."

"He what?" she demands.

"He knows how, he's done them before-"

But she doesn't wait for me to finish. "Jason Grace!" she shouts as she walks back down the stairs.

Does that mean Jason is here? Wait a second, did he tell on me? I kind of assumed it was Percy. Or anyone else but Jason. My mind flashes back to the day after he found out. In Spanish class, he promised me that he would keep it a secret. He promised me, and I believed it.

But now everybody knows.

My thoughts are interrupted by a second pair of footsteps on the stairs. They're heavier and slower than Hazel's.

Ms. Jackson.

She appears in the doorway with blotchy skin, red eyes, and a runny nose. Cool. Just add her to the list of people I've made cry in the last few days.

She sits down on the edge of my unmade bed. I don't; I feel less vulnerable standing up, like I can run if I need to. And I feel like I might; my heart is working too quickly and I feel myself starting to sweat.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asks suddenly after moments of silence.

"No?" I say, confused. She looks as though she doesn't believe me, so I add, "I started before- Before I lived here, if that's what you mean."

Slowly, she nods. "How long?"

"After- After Bianca.

She nods once more. "You wear long sleeves every day. You do your own laundry, and spend way too long in the shower. You barely ever leave your bedroom. How could I have missed this?"

"Uh-"

"After Percy was born, I was severely depressed. When I was with Gabe I was, too. I know what it's like. I should have caught on sooner."

"I never knew that," I say quietly.

"I had to get help," she says. Sometimes people do. And it's okay for them to admit that."

"I don't need… I'll stop, I can stop, I promise."

She shakes her head, not buying it. "It's okay," she says, though I'm not really sure what she means.

We sit in silence for a while before she stands up suddenly. "What have you eaten today?"

"Um, I had-"

"Nothing?" she says knowingly. "Come on, I'll make you some toast."