Chapter Eleven

Marcus

Jane turns pale white and then a sickening shade of green. As I watch, she swallows and stares down at the equation, as if it's in Chinese or something. Tyrant Trevens clears her throat and demands the answer from some other poor kid, who doesn't want to be here anymore than I do. Trevens and I don't have a good history. Last year, Zach and I were in the same Algebra 2 class with her, which didn't end well as you can probably guess. The class was the most fun in my schedule, that's for sure. Since then, she's been determined to make me miserable, the only reason I'm not failing is because I'm good at math. She can't fail me, even though she's certainly tried. Seeing the panicked expression on Jane's face, I don't think she shares my strength in numbers. Leaning closer, I whisper softly to her.

"Are you okay? You don't look so good." When I finish, she looks up at me and rolls her eyes pointedly. I feel my eyes widen as I realize what I just said. Oops, that came out a bit wrong. "I didn't mean it like that." I blurt frantically.

"I'm fine," she hisses and returns to the problems: the door slamming between us, keeping me firmly on the outside. I've never wanted to open a door more in my life. Regrettably, I don't think Jane will be letting me in anytime soon. Running my hand through my hair anxiously, before swallowing my pride and just blurting it out.

"I'm sorry about the soup thing in the cafeteria, it really was an accident."

"I'd hope you don't slam into people and spills lunches on them on purpose." She sneers, without even looking up. Does that count as her accepting my apology?

Why do I always manage to come out sounding like an idiot around her? I'm usually good at talking to girls, saying just the right things, and flattering them just enough. Charming a new girl should be even easier, since she should be looking for friends, lonely, and at least a little nervous. Unfortunately, Jane isn't anything she's supposed to be.

…

Zach

Some days, being adopted sucks. Most days are fine; I don't really think of myself as an orphan or throw myself pity parties on a daily basis. In the big scheme of things, I got lucky with the parents I was dumped with. Those are the good days; the bad days are a bit different.

Like right now, I'm drumming my fingers on the lab bench, staring down at the stupid worksheet sitting in front of me. We had homework last night, to find out the blood types of our parents. Naturally, I didn't blurt anything out in front of everyone in the class, but I figured the teacher would be sympathetic if I told her. Yeah, fat luck with that. Want to know what she did? She laughed. When I told her I was serious, she just rolled her eyes.

"I wasn't born yesterday, you know, but I will give you it to you, that is the most creative excuse for not doing your homework that I've ever heard." She chuckled, before putting a large zero into her grade book. My eyes widen and my jaw goes slack as she moves onto the next desk. I'm so glad that the teachers in my school are so understanding and welcoming to people from all sorts of backgrounds.

It's not like I made absolutely no effort to complete the assignment. I figured that blood types had to be in the adoption papers. The unfortunate side to that point is I had no way to get access to the adoption papers. My parents are religious in their belief that I shouldn't have access to my adoption records until I turn eighteen. I'm sixteen now, and I only wanted to look at the blood types, but they were "too busy" with "Important matters", and "sure my teacher would understand". Look how well that turned out.

Now I'm staring at the paper, and it asks all sorts of details, like hair color, eye color, blood type, height, etc. The purpose is to show the effect of DNA, and your genes. Yea, genes are such a fun subject for me. I look at the little finger prick that we're supposed to use, before quickly poking my finger, just hard enough to draw blood, and I wiping the blood on the little swab of cotton. Sealing it in a plastic bag, I try to convince myself that I'm just being paranoid and this should be no big deal. It can't hurt to know a little about my ancestry, right? I mean how bad could it be?

Jane

Walking towards the clearing Artemis has us camped out in, whether she always manages to find natural clearings, in every forest we camp in, or she magically wills them into existence, I don't know, but I'm glad for the seclusion. There's something inexplicably relaxing at exiting a patch of trees to the sound of Michaela and Tanya arguing over the benefit of skinny jeans over yoga paints in a knife fight. Tanya taking the position of skinny jeans, and her example is a time she fought off Empousa, found over a machete along with fangs. Even though Tanya's mortal, she was blest with being able to see all the lovely things our world has to offer, and a dead-beat dad, so long story short, she ended up a hunter.

We may be a little strange, but there's something inexplicably comforting about our crazy group. Michaela spots me out of the corner of her eye and stops mid rant, before turning to me.

"Why aren't you wearing my top?" She demands, hands on her hips. Sighing, I shrug my back off my shoulder, and present her with her stained camisole. Glancing down at my plain black t-shirt, I can't say that it's that much of a loss, as far as I'm concerned. Michaela seems to have a different opinion. "How?" Her tone is dangerously tight, and her hand moves slightly, just itching to draw her bow, and continue interrogating me with an arrow to my throat.

"A guy dumped a bowl of soup on me." I admit, shrugging, it's not that big of a deal, more annoying than anything else. The part that gets me is that Marcus won't leave me alone. Why can't the boy take "stay the hell away" for answer? I thought I was pretty clear, just goes to show you the utter oblivion that is the mind of men, all around the world.

Before Tanya or Michaela can ask, Artemis calls out across the field, her head sticking out through her silver tent. With a swallow, I make my way over, knowing the upcoming conversation is bound to be awkward.

…

"Is there anything you want to tell me, Jane?" She asks, her tone isn't confrontational, and her posture isn't rigid, but something tells me that answering this question wrong could be very, very bad. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the disappointment I know I'm bound to recieve in a moment.

"I should've told you sooner, but I didn't" I start, lamely if I do say so myself. "Um… my ex, ex-boyfriend that is, goes to the school we're investigating." I swallow, and peek at her expression, seeing that she seems scandalized, I hurry to explain further. "Nothing's happened, of course, it's just, he recognized me, and it's awkward." Artemis clears her throat and raises an eyebrow, clearly indicating I should go on. "And I just made the connection to the fact that he's dyslexic." Artemis purses her lips. "And his best friend is too." I finish a sick twist in my stomach. I swallow and glance down at my favorite little animal, Fabio, who nuzzles my hand and lays his head in my lap comfortingly. As he does, Artemis's curiosity is clearly piqued.

"He doesn't usually do that with anyone but me," She muses and when I don't provide an explanation, she continues. "You need to get close to those two boys, find out more about their past, we need to be certain who the demigod is before we make our move." She instructs, before standing and, waiting for me to stand as well. I stand and bow formally to her, before she slips out of her tent, drawing an arrow from her quiver as she makes her way into the woods.