Silver Eyes | Nico di Angelo

Chapter 2: I Meet "Apollo" and Eat Golden Brownies

Chapter 2: I Meet "Apollo" and Eat Golden Brownies

"Move it, freak," a voice sneered behind me. Against my own will, my head snapped backwards to meet the mocking eyes of her.

I knew it was a dream even before I heard her voice. It was the way everything blended together, and how everything seemed to leave faint trails behind them like a glitchy movie or whatnot. Sounds were muffled and indistinct, though still audible and comprehendible. I wondered what had happened to me - the last thing I remembered was touching the silvery flames and blacking out, right after I saw the winged silhouette.

Natasha's smirking face came into focus and I mentally groaned. I probably would've done it out loud if I could, but I seemed to be trapped inside the body and I was doing nothing but relive the scene.

I leaned against my locker tiredly. "What do you want, Robinson?"

That hit a nerve. Her jaw tightened and her face contorted to a look a fury, before going back to the smirk. Behind her, her little gang of friends shifted uncomfortably, as if sensing a fight as one would sense a storm brewing.

"Don't call me 'Robinson' if you want to keep your life," she growled at me, though we both knew the threat was useless. The most Natasha could do was spread more rumours about me. Fighting, she wasn't good at. The last time she attacked me, she had freaked out about getting her makeup smeared.

Somehow - it was hard to believe- I had been best friends with her during elementary. Of course, back then, her hair had been brown instead of bleached blonde, and mascara and eyeliner and foundation didn't take up fifty percent of her face. She also hadn't been led astray by bad friends and influences. Now, in high school...well, a lot had changed. Her parents had divorced, and she refused to keep her dad's last name: Robinson. It hadn't been changed legally, but her friends and practically everyone in the school called her by her mother's last name, Young. One who referred to her as 'Robinson' or 'Natasha Robinson' was somebody who didn't value their social life.

It was odd how friends could turn into such bitter enemies. She hated me, I hated her. It hadn't always been like this - but my popularity had dropped while hers had risen. It hadn't been the only reason. I might've even been at the top of the food chain at school with her if I hadn't been seemed crazy by the rest of the kids. But I wasn't crazy, and I was sure of what I saw. I was sure when I saw one of the teachers grow fangs. When what looked like a cross between a leopard and a serpent had slivered into the equipment room in the gym. I had seen all of that with my own eyes - is wasn't my fault other couldn't see, and I was sure I had seen it. One event after another, Natasha had decided that being friends with me was a blow to her popularity. One summer later, she had stopped speaking to me, or at least as friends. Now, she spoke to me often, but there wasn't a sentence aimed at me that wasn't meant to hurt or kill. I often wondered why she had to pick on me especially - out of all people.

I took my time gathering binders and textbooks out of my locker before turning to face her again. "Your makeup is irritating my allergies," I said, ignoring her sentence from before. "Funny, I don't think it's makeup - I think I'm actually allergic to you. So can you go away before I break into a rash?" With extra effect, I added, "Robinson." I was probably asking for it, but I was in no mood for Natasha at the moment and it felt good to make her squirm, even if there would be consequences.

She had regained her composure, but there was still an angry glimmer behind her eyes. The anger intensified when I added her old last name. "That's my dad's last name," she said. "And I don't go by that anymore. But two can play the game, Hunt. At least I have a dad."