Fading Angel | Nico di Angelo

Chapter 8: Bookeeper

"Mel. Mel." Begrudgingly, I opened my eyes, uncurling from my ball position in the corner of the car. Piper was sitting next to me, her being the one speaking. I could see Jay and Nico already changed and in their seats. Jay was driving again, and had been for who knew how long. Based on how bright it was, they had probably been up and moving for hours and had let me sleep.

"About time." There was a muttered comment from the passenger's seat, but I didn't say anything about it. Instead, I pushed myself into a sitting position.

Before I could ask how long they had been up, or how far they had gotten while I slept, Piper spoke up again. "It's about eleven o'clock, and we're almost to Toledo, Ohio, about a third of the way to Salt Lake City. We figured you might want to be awake when we arrive. We're going to stop at a diner and, if we can, get showers and supplies if we need it." She turned her head, staring out the window.

I pulled my legs up onto the seat with me. In doing so, I noticed that someone had placed my bag on the floor. Dropping my feet back down, I pulled my bag up onto my lap and looked through it, shoving aside my clothes. My hand groped the bottom, and to my relief, my fingers curled around my sketchpad, which I promptly pulled out. I flipped through the pages, comforted by seeing my old drawings... even if they weren't all happy memories.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Nico glancing at me. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he looked almost curious. "What's that?"

I blinked at him, a little bit surprised. "My... my sketchpad." He nodded without saying anything more, not that he had a chance to.

"You draw?" piped Jay, who had been silent this whole time, finally actually paying attention to the road and not killing us. He broke his safety streak to look back at me for a moment.

"Eyes on the road, Sordino," Nico scolded, losing the momentary warmth. Jay playfully rolled his eyes, turning back.

"Uh, yeah," I answered, now that he was no longer looking at me. "You could say that."

"Are you any good?"

For a second time, I was shocked. He seemed genuinely interested.

"I don't know." I looked down at my now closed sketchpad. I had never really thought about it before. It wasn't like I sketched with the purpose of being good. I just enjoyed doing it. Sometimes a picture inspired me; sometimes I just wanted to funnel my emotions into something productive.

Before I could really react, Jay had taken his right hand off the wheel and reached back, taking a hold of my sketchpad. I was about to protest and take it back, but physically fighting the driver didn't seem like that smart of a plan.

Driving with his left hand, Jay used his right set the sketchpad on his lap and open it. He didn't quickly flip through, either. He took his time, examining each page while attempting to not crash at the same time. I felt unnerved, both because Jay was putting all four of us in danger, and because I didn't really show people my sketches, not even my dad.

"Nico," Jay said after a few pages of my art. "You have to look at these."

Nico, who was leaning his head against the window, didn't move to take the sketchpad nor even glance at it. I couldn't decide whether or not I was upset about that.

His voice came out almost bored-sounding. "I don't have to do anything. You shouldn't even be trying to split your attention between two things when one of them involves possible death."

Jay sighed, returning his right hand to the wheel and letting the sketchpad fall shut. "You know, di Angelo, maybe people wouldn't stay away from you so much if you, I don't know, expressed a little bit of interest in what they say and have done." He took a brief moment to pass my sketchpad back to me.