I held my brother in my arms as I watched my father slowly ascend into the sky. Drago DiEduardo: another boy cursed by his father. I was angry at my father, our father now, for bringing another child into the DiEduardo's. Something he had promised to never do. But of course, no one keeps promises up there; I should have known that, even if I was only at the young age of five. Five years old and now stuck with an ill infant to care for…Its no wonder that I'm so screwed up. Or maybe it's my family, or lack thereof. Or maybe…Well, I won't exactly go there yet. I present to you, the outcast farm boy: Nicholai Achille DiEduardo. Or, as I like to call him…Me.
I started off in a box. No, I'm not kidding. On the day of my birth, approximately November thirteenth of the year 1983, I was put in a box, decorated with an exquisite sun painted delicately onto it. I was placed onto a street corner, just waiting to be discovered. (Which ended up following me for the eternity of my life.) After about a week of sitting through pouring rain, blazing sun and freezing hail, I was discovered: by an elderly woman with glittery silvery-white hair, to be exact. She ended up becoming my motherly figure for the five years I lived with her. We lived in a small cabin with two rooms, one kitchen and (barely) a full bathroom. All this was how I was inducted into the Tohopka Tribe, an interesting group of people of every size, race and language with very…interesting powers, located in the north of Alaska.
I was raised by my mother, Maria DiEduardo, as a farm boy. Polite, abided by any and all rules, did his chores when asked, never cusses, things like that. And I lived by those rules for the first sixteen years of my life.
My mother passed on two days before Drago was given to me. I was only five, yet I did not care. I felt a certain responsibility towards him. Like it was my duty to care for him; to make sure he lived as normal a life as he could…with his illness. And that was when I decided to protest against my father and all that linked towards him. That was when I decided Apollo could go to hell…no matter how ironic the idiom.
Drago's illness grew worse over the years. It started off as a simple tickle in his throat, then a persistent dry cough, then a very harsh cough which finally proceeded into its final stage: something that shook his body so harshly, he looked like a trout flopping on a deck. At the age of eight, he grew confined to his bed, with nothing to accompany him except his brother and the occasional music that drifted through the windows when a radio was walked past.
I was gone most of the day and afternoon, fetching whatever the warriors wished for, or doing chores around the house and farm that I grew up doing. I collected money from random chores done around the tribe village, and little tips from the Warriors now and then. But sadly, it was never enough to care for Drago and I, especially with the cost of his medicine raising everyday. Normally, I'd use it all on my brother, neglected the fact that slowly, I grew hungry, weak and ill, also. But my duties came first, even if I was on my deathbed. I continued with my chores, my warrior duties and taking care of my brother, whose health kept declining, even with this very expensive medication.
In my sixteenth year, however, my life changed dramatically.
I was finally being trained as a real warrior. My brother, who was now in his tenth year, needed less medication. I had been seen no longer as the demigod son of Apollo, but now as the fumbling warrior farm boy attempting to heal his brother.
As I was training one day, (or as we call it, Verbal Harassment a la Ate), I fumbled badly, falling onto the ground. Ate began to yell at me, and sent me off to collect firewood for thirty minutes. He was mainly my worst enemy. Of course, the other warriors hadn't been helping. They would push me around, hit me just a little too hard during training, or tease me about my biggest fear: Water. I was still doing chores, somehow and it seemed whenever a sword was picked up by my rough, over-sized hands, it was overly heavy. So, I stuck to my bow and arrow which didn't turn out quite as badly.
A single day still sticks out to me (September 25th, 1999, I believe.) I was going through my 'training' with Ate. Suddenly, every warriors head, including my own and Ate's, were drawn towards two figures; one quite curvy, with dark hair and one quite skinny with platinum blonde hair. If it weren't for their facial features, no one would have known that they were sisters. The curvy one was clutching books towards her chest, trying to avoid the gaze of the Warriors. Meanwhile, her sister was snapping at the Warriors, matching their eye contact fully. Even if she was angry…Gods, she was beautiful. I had to know her.
Apparently, the Warriors had thought the same thing as I, for they began to whistle and made (quite inappropriate and idiotic) gestures. I stared for a couple more seconds, then just happened to glance towards my watch. I was late. Again. By Half an hour. Crap! I ran over to General Ate Chamisaya, with a panicked look in my eyes, challenging his emotionally frozen ones.
"SIR, Permission to leave, SIR!" My voice wavered a tad. General Chamisaya terrified me when he was in moods like this. He clenched both fists, and glared down towards me. I was still quite short for my age, but taller than most girls.
"WELL, since no one seems to be PAYING ATTENTION…I suppose training will be suspended until tomorrow!" General Chamisaya growled, pointing towards the village where the cabins were placed.
I smiled, grabbing a piece of paper from my pocket; a stray gum wrapper, I believe. I scribbled down my number with the pen in my coat pocket, and ran over towards the two girls. The blonde one was a bit taller than the other, most likely the older sister. The younger one looked absolutely petrified as I stepped forward. She was quite attractive as well, but I kept my eyes focused onto the tall one. Gods how her hair shimmered in the late October sun. How her eyes under this natural light were a glowing emerald green…how her lips pursed as she crossed her arms and…started to yell at me.
"What's the bright idea, farm boy? Standing in our path while we're just trying to walk? That's quite rude of you, isn't it?" She paused. "Well?" I was speechless. I had never seen a woman so…feisty! All I had wanted to do was give her my number….The number! I scrambled around for a moment, searching for the old gum wrapper. I eventually found it and stuck my arm out swiftly.
"Uh…Uh…" I stuttered. Maria always did say I was bad with words. "Here. It's my number…" Duh, Nico. "Call me if you need anything." I peered down at my watch once more, panicking again. "Crap! I have to go…" I explained lamely, and then turned to run. I looked back once to see the blonde one laughing.
Was that good?
