ONE LAST TIME . . . heroes of olympus

55.5

THIS TIME, KATERINA woke up by herself at her usual time: 11 am.

Or, at least, she thinks it was. Honestly, the numbers on the clock were pretty blurry, but whatever. She's wisely choosing to avoid this fact.

But it's nice, waking up without her ringtone blaring right next to her. And she didn't have any obligations for today. Not until Thursday when she leaves for the plane in order to go to Manila. The city is pretty, but seriously, did she really have to be on the tarmac by eleven? They could just . . . leave without her.

Strange, isn't it? Normally, Katerina would have an itch; a nagging feeling of wanting to travel. She's probably lived at least a fifth of her life on a plane at this point, and probably almost half of her life anywhere but her own home. Sometimes, like right now, she lies to herself and thinks the itch is wanting to travel. Other nights, when she's drunk enough to be unable to avoid her own feelings? She knows that she wants to run. She just won't admit it. Not easily, at least. She's still herself when she's drunk, anyway.

But now, she doesn't have that. Not as much as she would've last year, anyway. Hell, even last month, she had the biggest itch to leave. And now she doesn't want to leave.

She knows why. The reason's plain and simple. It's a bold, jealous, beautiful girl who doesn't care what society thinks of her. And Jason.

Katerina didn't expect for this to happen. She didn't expect to see them again — now or ever again, to be honest. She didn't expect to spend most of her days with them. She didn't expect to be falling in—

Absolutely not. Nope, nope, nope. She scrambled to her feet and got to her guitar, collapsing beside it and turning the amp on, situating the guitar on her lap.

You're an artist, aren't you? Jason had asked.

Normally, she'd say she wasn't. But in dire times like these, she'd say she is.

So she sat there for a while, basically relearning her guitar because she has to do that every time she picks one up. She used to be a prodigy, but now she doesn't do it as often so she has to figure out what she's doing. It's not to say she doesn't enjoy playing guitar; she does, but it reminds her of when she was a child. Blissfully ignorant of the hurt that was going to crush her as if she's a soda can.

But Katerina Mikhailova has never been blissfully ignorant. Not when she's grown up the way she has, with Viktoria Mikhailova's blood coursing through her and her papa's blood combining with that, making Katerina the stupid, flawed, shitty person that she is.

It's not like she thinks about her father that much, anyway. However, he is in every little part of her life. Sometimes she feels like his shadow is always looming over her whenever she, you know, pickpockets someone or whenever she's focused on picking a lock. Even when she's doing it with her mind, sometimes she swears it's his voice telling the lock to unlock.

She knows it's just an illusion, or a voice inside her head or something like the one she uses to control other people. But sometimes, when she's especially thoughtful or depressed, she wishes her papa would send her a sign. To show that he still cares. Or thinks about her.

But some things in this world are too much to ask for. Her older brother, Luke Castellan, knew this. Well, he's younger now. But that doesn't disprove her point. He died because of it.

Sadly, Katerina's learned that lesson a long time before Luke had. Except she's always been allied with the gods because of her last name. Whatever. She's never been his favorite sibling anyway. He'd always liked Chris more. Hmm. She hasn't thought about Chris in at least months, if not years. Maybe she should ask Jules if she still kept in contact with him.