Outcast (a Percy Jackson AU)

Hera's Party

Frank
I did not wish to go to a party-especially not a party hosted by Hera. She was a wealthy older lady and I was afraid that she might be even more strict than my grandmother who would scold me if I couldn't understand her. It wasn't my fault that I couldn't understand Mandarin, but she would berate me for forgetting my heritage. "Fai, you are an ignorant fool," she'd snap.
      I sighed and resigned myself. Unfortunately, I had to go. There was no way getting out of this. I couldn't pretend to be ill because my grandmother would probably take me there if I had anything short of smallpox. I fully looked around my closet for some clothes to wear before pulling on a black sweater and a pair of jeans. Then, I laid down on my bed and tried not to think about how much I missed my mother.
    I couldn't ever stop thinking of her, though. I would remember her telling me stories at night and poking me while doing so. I remembered how her eyes scrunched up when she laughed. I remembered how her smile lit up the room and her silky, dark hair was usually in a bun or ponytail. Everything reminded me of her: the weather, the plants, people I saw from outside my window.
    I didn't want to leave the house. I had rarely left the house in months, so wrapped in grief. Grief was like a cloak that was smothering me, but I didn't have the heart to pull it off. It would feel so wrong-like betrayal-to not feel sad that my mother was gone. "Are you ready Fai?" the sharp voice of my grandmother asked, jolting me from the thick cloud of my thoughts.
    "Yes," I managed, as I got up.
      I met her outside. My grandmother was wearing a dark brown dress and her white hair was pulled in a tight bun. "Your hair is messy," she scowled.
    We walked in silence. I didn't bother to converse. I just wanted to wrap myself in a cocoon and be away from the world. I didn't want to go to some dumb, old party, but there was no arguing with grandma. She was a force to be reckoned with.
    We finally arrived at the house and grandmother rapped on the door. Hera arrived, her face the usual mixture of pride and regal-bearing. Her slave, a young girl named Hazel, stood behind her. I had been to one of Hera's party's before. It had been dull.
My eyes fell on Hazel once more. Despite the soot smudged on her face and her filthy rags, she was stunningly beautiful. Her skin was the color of toffee, her eyes were an amber brown, her lips pouty, and her hair a curly mane of cinnamon-honey locks. I had never realized just how comely she was. Suddenly, I felt like I was the one with a dirty face. "Come in," Hera gestured.
We were the last ones to arrive. Nico, Bianca, and their parents were the only others there. "The Uglianos couldn't come," Hera said,"and Beryl is suffering from another hangover."
We sat ourselves down. The lights were dim. The good arrived and we began to eat.