Chapter 3
A slip of paper lands on my desk; I snap up and the guy in front of me, Marcus, withdraws his hand. Rolling my eyes, I hesitantly unfold the paper and read it over quickly.
"What brings you to my neck of the woods?" The handwriting is uneven and jagged. Considering the point of Artemis chosing me was I blend in, I'm getting a ridiculous amount of attention: first labradoodle boy and now this moron.
I momentarily consider scribbling the truth and handing the note back, and can't help but laugh under my breath. He turns for a second, and raises an eyebrow obviously wondering what's so funny. He doesn't get an answer because I'm too busy doing a mental checklist in my brain: is he a monster thinly shrouded in mist? nope. Is he a god, reeking of aura and power? reeking of axe maybe, but definitely not power. I wouldn't be able to tell if he was a demigod, not without more time so I just lounge back and scribble my reply on the paper.
"Just moved to town" my handwriting isn't even close to even or neat: in fact, a lot of people used to immediately suggest I become a doctor after seeing my penmanship. I bite my lip, wondering what I'm supposed to do. Artemis's instructions were just to keep my eyes open and find the source of her unease. The fact that I haven't a clue what I'm doing isn't helping matters much. The note returns to my desk, fluttering beside my new schedule, with the reply.
"Well, no duh. I meant why on earth you'd choose to move here?" I don't like the attitude, I've always been a bit of a door mat, but I'm a Hunter of Artemis, I don't take that, especially not from a stupid guy. I crumple the sheet in my fist and sink it into the waste basket, perfect swish. Marcus doesn't react, though I'm positive he noticed. I cross my ankles and fold my hands under my chin, pretending that I'm positively mesmerized by Algebraic equations.
…
Timidly making my way into the cafeteria, the worst and most perplexing dilemma to hit new kids everywhere, hits me like a cinderblock. Where am I going to sit? Pushing the door open in front of me, I scan the tables. At this point I'm highly considering eating in the bathroom stall, like every bad chick flick you see. A hand brushes my arm and I whip my head around, sending my hair flying in crazy directions. Marcus stands there, smirking, like every other arrogant, self-centered; male I've ever met in my recently immortalized life.
I cross my arms over my chest, thinking that Artemis made the right decision sending me, Michaela would've stabbed him with her hunting knife (or her nail file, she doesn't have a preference) by now. I just glare, making sure he knows that I would love being anywhere else now. He doesn't appear to get it in the slightest. He grins a little bigger, and I'm sure substitute teachers must run screaming from the room when they see that grin.
"You know, I like a fiery attitude in a girl." He tells me, smirking: I'm sure he must practice that smirk in the mirror, thinking "Aren't I all that and a bag of chips?" I'm not partial to his opinion. I raise my eyebrows and laugh, dismissally. The last thing I want is for Zach's new best friend hitting on me. Attempting to stay invisible, I spy him out of the corner of my eye: surrounded by girls in short skirts and guys in varsity jackets, surprise, surprise. I feel sick knowing I used to act like one of those girls: thank the gods that stage of my life is over.
"Really, it's a highly attractive quality." He informs me, trotting along beside me as I hustle to the lunch line. There's an elephant in the room: The moment Zach recognizes me, world war three is going to break out. Not much has changed about me physically since our break up, although I've been told I have the "happy without boys glow" (whatever that means). I know once he spots me, there's no turning back, so I'm trying to keep my head down, and to blend into the crowd as much as possible.
If I'm lucky, I'll spot the monster/ god/demigod, before Zach spots raking my eyes over the mass of teenagers, I come up empty, of course. No gods with multiple heads, or monsters without a distinguishable head, appear. I haven't observed all the teachers, but my gut says it's an extremely powerful demigod. Which means it could be literally, anyone, and I'm going to have to make my search a lot more in-dept. Another depressing realization is that I might have to actually talk to people to weed out the demigod. I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration and glance up.
"You haven't listened to a word I've said have you?" Marcus chuckles, I step forward, to move away, and manage to bump into the person ahead of me in line, and stumble backwards. Marcus snakes an arm out, around my waist, seemingly to steady me. My Hunter's instincts kick in, and I snap away; unfortunately Marcus doesn't seem to have any intention of letting me go anytime soon. He grips e tighter, making sure I can't get away.
"What the frig do you think you're doing?" I demand, practically hissing. He steps forward as the line moves, dragging me along by his side. He doesn't seem fazed by my protests in the slightest. He even smirks again, in triumph, it seems: he's gotten my attention.
"Right now… I'm making sure everyone here knows that I have dibs." He jerks his head as he speaks and tightens his grasp. "I want to make sure all these drooling guys know you're spoken for." Narrowing my eyes, I glare at him, positively furious. I don't do flirting, I don't do dibs and I certainly am not going to give up my vow to Artemis any time soon. Shifting my foot, I dig my heel into his arch, forcing him to release me, before striding forward. Like a boomerang, he's back within seconds.
"You're a pig; I bet you don't even know my name." I challenge, though I'm not sure why I'm even still talking to him. He smirks and I know right then I'm going to hate the next words out of his mouth.
"So why don't you tell me? You can even sit with us at lunch." He offers, and I hesitate, seriously debating taking the offer. I'm sure rejecting Marcus would make me stand out like a biker at a Justin Bieber concert, but I don't know if I could go through a whole lunch without decking him. Having a place to sit would be lovely though... His ebony eyes gleam in the dingy cafeteria lighting and he gestures toward Zach's table. "I usually sit over there, I'm sure they'd make room." He proposes, walking backwards so he can still talk to me, and keep up with the sluggish line. That makes my decision ridiculously simple.
"No way in hell."