Only a Game (Olympus Drive Chronicles)

Chapter 44: Going home

Ariadne

I hear the helicopter before I see it. The steady hum of the motor breaks through the otherwise peaceful afternoon. Viktor hears it as well, squinting up wearily.

"That's your ride," Viktor grunts.

"Please come with me?" I say, taking Teddy's arm.

"I wasn't gonna fall this time---oh what?" he frowns.

"That's my dad's helicopter---please come back with me?" I sigh. I'll tell you everything? Or close to everything? I really don't want you to die?

He kisses my cheek quickly, "Now you owe me a kiss. Meet me on the other side."

"Remember what I said?" I sigh, backing away. Viktor clips their harnesses to lines, preparing to repel down into the maze away from the helicopters. Needless to say Viktor is hardly going to want to be caught. Even if my father had a mind to catch him which I don't think he does.

"What part?" Teddy asks.

"Please just come with me, I'll explain just---I don't want you to die," I say.

"I'm not gonna die," Teddy says, smiling his half grin, the light green shining in his eyes past the rich brown.

The helicopter drowns out further conversation. I grab for Teddy's arm just to take him with me, take them both with me and I'll end this---but they leap off the side of the wall. And I'm left standing there to be taken away. Back "home".

"I'm not even going to ask what's wrong with you," my father says, once his men haul me into the helicopter.

"Fuck you too, dad," I say, as they tug me in.

"It goes without saying you're confined to your rooms. Don't you care at all about this family?"

"Yeah, apparently I'm the only one who does!" I cry, annoyed, "I know we're messed up right now—we're really messed up. But if you could NOT make things ten times worse every single minute that would be great!"

He slaps me across the mouth. I lean away, a little.

"I hope he kills you," I whisper, tears running down my face.

He hits me again, harder. This time my head smacks the back the window and everything spins.

When the chopper lands he takes me by the arm and basically drags me inside.

"I know where my room is," I growl.

"You have a lot to answer for," he says, equally incensed, tugging me so hard by the arm it hurts.

"You're hurting me."

"Think about that next time you run off," he growls, "I don't know what makes you think you're ever leaving here. I've already written to your mother. Telling her you changed your mind you won't be going anywhere this fall."

"I hate you," I whisper.

"The feeling is mutual."

"Where are we going? Let me go," I finally twist out of his arm.

"Here," he pushes me into the drawing room outside of my room, shoving me by the middle of my back. "These people showed up yesterday, claiming to be your friends. They have been intoxicating everyone, and laughing at everything constantly. Do you know them?"

On a sofa sprawl two kids—well I mean I suppose they're my age. Young adults. Whatever. A boy, probably eighteen or nineteen. He has sandy hair that's pulled back in a short, messy bun, and beautiful ice blue eyes. He's wearing a button down shirt that's not at all buttoned, and swim trunks, and Birkenstock sandals. His legs are entangled with a girl, probably also about our age, she's short with a black pixie cut and big black glasses. She's wearing a black sun-dress and also wearing sandals. Both are clearly intoxicated and are in fact giggling at my father's annoyance. The boy is drinking straight from a bottle of vodka while the girl is holding a margarita.