Fading Angel | Nico di Angelo

Chapter 1: Trouble

"I'll tell you," said she, in the same hurried passionate whisper, "what real love it. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter - as I did!"

"Is that really what you're wearing?" I looked up from my book. I was arranged on my bed, knees pulled up with my book on my legs. I sighed, closing the book and setting it aside. Drew stood at the side of my bed, brown, scrutinizing eyes glaring down on me and face knit in a scowl.

It was early, earlier than most other cabins would be up. But this wasn't other cabins; this was Aphrodite, beauty queens galore. Currently, over half the cabin was already up, hours before most other would be awakening. One by one, they'd take their turns in the bathroom, each taking an hour and a half. Except Drew, of course, who would take an extra hour. Why people who woke up looking perfect needed so much time in the bathroom, I'd never understand.

Drew was still in her pajamas--silky blue tank top and matching drawstring pants--someone else currently occupying the bathroom.

Exerting another sigh, I stared down at my wardrobe choice for the day: white and green running shoes; light blue jeans; and a black V-neck. It was getting warmer, so I hadn't worn my normal white sweatshirt or a sweater. The rest of my outfit, though, was the usual.

I looked up to meet her eyes. "Drew," I began, my voice and expression emotionless if not tired, "I have worn the same type of thing every day since I've gotten here. Jeans, running shoes, and a T-shirt. This is what I like, and I have better things to do than spend an hour looking for an outfit and the following hour and a half in the bathroom. Can you move? You're blocking my reading light."

Drew's frown deepened, but she did not yet retort. At that moment, the bathroom door opened, and out walked an auburn haired girl. "Drew," she said, "bathroom's open."

Drew, although she had been waiting for this, didn't move, still looking at me. Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably minutes, she turned and started walking away, but not without a comment. "I can't believe you're a daughter of Aphrodite." She was mumbling, but it was clear she wanted me to hear.

Yeah. I can't believe it either.

After talking to Drew, I no longer felt like reading. Grabbing my old, worn-out copy of Great Expectations, I knelt by the side of my bed. Beneath it was a large suitcase. Although I had arrived at camp months prior to today, I never really moved in; everything was still in here, nicely fitting together. I had never even gone to get a weapon. My clothes was in neat stacks taking up about two third. In the other section was a currently empty spot where I put my book and a sketchpad, sets of colored and graphite pencils, and a mossy green messenger bag. Now, I replaced my book inside, then gathered up the art supplies and inserted them into the bag. I donned the bag, replacing the suitcase under my bed.

I didn't bother to tell anyone I was leaving as I left the cabin; they wouldn't really care either way. I went to take a run almost every morning. My route was never the same, but changed consistently, and allowed me to discover all the little places others might never find. Today, though, I had a particular destination. Although it was awkward to run with my bag, it was better than carrying my supplies myself. I started walking, then picked up speed until I was in a brisk jog, maneuvering around buildings and trees.

Soon enough, I had reached where I was going: the canoe lake. I dropped my bag down next a tree near the water, settling down underneath the shade of its branches. I took my sketchpad out from my bag and started flipping pages to get to my most recent one. The drawings I had done at first had no real pattern--I had done the high school, animals, landscapes, all sorts of things. Suddenly, I stopped, landing on a particular sketch. I swallowed, staring at it. To most people, it wouldn't have seemed like much; it was a detailed sketch of a park bench, the swing set and such smaller and more blurry in the background. But I remembered drawing it. I had gotten up early that day to do it, as the park was often occupied after school. I had been find when I did this picture, but the day that followed had been... less than pleasant.