Roman Chronicles: Book 1, Apollo: Chapter 2, Shocked

"No way." An Apollo kid with baby-blue eyes, spiked white-blonde hair, an orange T-shirt, school pants, and a jacket that had a gigantic gold A on the back. A beige-colored bow that was flimsy and petite was slung over his back. He definitely did not look like an Apollo. He was right. "NO WAY!" I shouted. I looked nothing like an Apollo kid. I had perfectly braided chocolate-brown hair, eyes the color of the rainbow (plus black), tan-pale-ish skin, and emerald-green painted nails. No way was I an Apollo kid. Sure, I was pretty okay at archery, but that was it. Apollo started whistling Radioactive. "Well, technically no..." I squinted at the God of the Sun. "What do you mean, technically no?" He started whistling Counting Stars. "Actually, you're Hades' kid. You just... he didn't want you, okay? Me and- I mean, Ares and I had a bid over you, and I got you. I wanted you because you were a prophecy kid. Ares just did it to bid against me." At first I felt abandoned. Hades had not wanted me? Then I felt surprised. I was Hades' daughter? Haven't they had terrible fates? Mostly though, I was furious. "What? Well, too bad! I don't want to be in a prophecy! I'll be a girl with no parentage! I'll just camp by the Hades cabin." Apollo's smile faltered. He forced a grin and choked, "So be it." He put up his hand like the stop signal. Then he put his head up. His eyes were deep, painful gold, fully gold, the entire area around the pupil. When he spoke, it was deep, and triple-voiced. Like a annoyed, angry, and furious person were speaking at once. "You are now an enemy of Apollo. May his sons, daughters, grandchildren, great grandchildren, brothers and sisters of Apollo loathe you forever." There was another flash of gold light. Apollo had dissapeared. A girl huddled in the corner finally spoke. She had curly red-and-ginger hair pinned up by a SAVE THE POLAR ICE CAPS bow. She was wearing a deep forest green cloak that was tied up by a gold pin with a large, snaky dragon embedded into it. She undid the pin, and I saw the rest of her. She had a paint-splattered T-shirt that had a picture that looked like Micheal Jackson screaming, except he had snake skin boots, an Elvis haircut, a disco shirt and tight, black leather pants. It said ROCK WITH IT OR DIE! Her jeans had holes on the knee area and both of her pockets were un-tucked. A Chicago Bears cap was shoved into her back pocket. Despite her untidy clothes, she bowed and said, "Apollo tried to change it, but that was your destiny. I don't know why, but I bowed back. "Oracle." She smiled dryly. "What gave it away? Was it the cloak?" She laughed. I picked up the cloak and said, "Can I have it?" She nodded.

The next next day, I sat in the cabin, the green cloak thrown over my shoulders. My stomach was rumbling with hunger. I never ate. I was bony, now. My hair was combed, but no longer in a braid. My eyes had been set to gold, I think maybe permanently. I heard Annabeth's voice. "Hungry?" I turned my head. She was leaning against the doorway, her golden hair matted in a mess.  Her orange T-shirt was crinkled. Her grey eyes were dark and more stormy than usual. "I said, Hungry?" I glared at her. "No." She stared at me. "You haven't eaten in two days." I sighed. "Fine, Maybe I am hungry. Hand it over." She gave me a paper breakfast tray of Tropical fruit loops, raisin toast, and milk and orange juice. "Your welcome." she said. "I never said thank you." I replied, scarfing down a bit of fruit loops. Nothing ever tasted so great. I licked the last crumbs of raisin toast off my fingers. I sipped the orange juice. Annabeth sighed. "Not so noble now, are we?" I shook my head. She giggled, then said, "Wear this. It belonged to a... friend. Nico di Angelo." She tossed me a pile of blacks and greys. She left. I changed, and I gasped at my reflection. I was wearing black T-shirt with a red-eyed skeleton in the middle. Black skinny jeans with silver claw prints. A chain as a belt. A dark grey leather jacket was slung over my shoulders. "Nico? Wait, no. It's you, Roman. Is that- Nico's high tops?" Must have been. I was wearing perfectly-fitting black high tops with glowing silver laces. It was Nicholas. He looked good, not as good as me, though. This was a fit. Not one of those lacy tops. Not a tight black mini skirt. Just... this. Nicholas leaned against the black obsidian pillar. He was wearing a light grey muscle vest over his camp shirt. He had jeans on. His black hair was combed back, and his grey eyes were sparkling. "Hi." I smiled. He shook his head. "Heard you don't smile anymore." My smile faded. "Go," I said. He shook his head again. "No. Not until you tell me- why?" He looked serious. "Oh, lay off." I said. He shrugged and walked out. "Don't trust him." I heard a quiet hollow voice. A boy in clothes exactly like mine, hold the leather jacket, and his shirt was dark grey with a hell-hound. "Give me my jacket back." He says. I shake my head. "Who says it's yours? Annabeth says that it belonged to that kid- Nick Von Ablentine, or something." He gives me a hard glare. "It's Nico di Angelo." I gave a laid-back shrug. "Who cares?"  He glares more. "Because, that's me."