Deadly Waters | Percy Jackson

3. Revealing Truths

Confession time: Pez ditched Underwood and Jackson as soon as they got to the bus terminal.

'Oh, but Pez, that's rude.'

Shut, the fuck, up.

Do you really think she cared?

. . . Okay, to be fair, she felt slightly - slightly – bad about leaving Jackson behind, but she was never going to apologise for hiking it out of there when Underwood presented the chance. Bless his bladder problems, because the boy was being a little weirdo and freaking Jackson out, looking at the both of them like they were dead, muttering "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to be sixth grade?"

Fucking weirdo.

Besides, she had plans.

You know, things to burn and people to stalk.

But first, a pit stop.

After a brief wave goodbye to Jackson, she carefully watched him catch the first taxi uptown.

"East One-hundred-and-fourth and First," he told the driver.

Duly noted, Jackson.

The taxi sped off and she turned around, starting her journey in the opposite direction.

Let it be said, here and now, for the record of the court, that Pez, is not a completely evil person. Yeah, sure, she liked to burn things. Yes, she loved threaten people and hating the world was her favourite pastime, but that doesn't make her evil. No, Pez is merely a teenage girl that liked to do bad things.

She was an expert at doing bad things.

Bad? . . . yes.

But evil? . . no.

So, when Pez regarded a person to be so bad that they're the true definition of evil, in heaven, hell and everything in between – and not in the fun way, like her – you'd better believe it.

For example, her mother.

Oh, her mother.

Pez shoved past the hoards of people on the busy New York sidewalks, a fierce scowl twisting her features and causing civilians to scatter out of her way.

Her mother.

Zoya Chernov.

Disdain dripped from her mind, every memory tainted, each one more vile and horrible than the last.

Her mother made it no secret that she hated the girl.

Pez had figured that out from a very young age.

Zoya's bitterness toward her daughter was an extension of her vanity. Even from day one, Pez had been a beautiful baby. As Zoya declined, her daughter blossomed into childhood, more beautiful than even she had been. Voluminous dark ringlets of hair, large soul opening eyes, pale flawless skin. By the time she had reached twelve, the sneer in Zoya's eyes extended to her voice as she chided her daughter for wearing track pants, a baggy shirt and a pony tail. Her tension had became a poison in their relationship, Zoya putting a negative spin on all of her daughters behaviour and personality traits. Instead of striving to help her move forwards in life with confidence she did quite the opposite, destroying her self confidence one carefully angled verbal blow at a time. It's a sad day when, at six years old, Pez had learned to give up trying to please her.