Hunters of The Stars

Three: ☽ Apollo is a terrible driver ☾ [UNEDITED]

I debated whether or not to break Apollo’s arm.

He had argued that we could walk ourselves to Camp, because we were ‘tough’ looking girls with mean attitudes and bad hair. So, I had done what I thought was right and shoved him against his Ferrai, twisting his arm behind his back. It must’ve looked like a weird scene; a God getting his butt kicked by a girl who looked around 16, but was really almost 600 years old. I heard sniffling laughter from my other Hunters and turned my head to give them death glares.

I had to make them look professional in front of this loser of a God.

“So, will you change your  Ferrai into a van?” I growled into his ear, twisting his arm a little harder. He could’ve easily beat me, and I figured he was holding back. Gods, I honestly hope he didn’t actually enjoy it.

Then again, he was that kind of God.

Apollo normally spent his days either listening to his iPod or picking up college girls from the nearest campus and partying with them in their sorority.

“Will you say please?” He said easily, the words coming off his tongue in a smooth, carefree tone. It annoyed me how he acted like such a playboy when he could be actually doing things for Olympus.

“My Gods,” I sighed, back up so that he could look at me. I crossed my arms to keep warm from the burst of cold, Alaskan air.

Apollo wiped off non-visible dirt and smoothed out his t-shirt. He gave me an easy smile; the corners of his mouth went up slightly in an I’m-not-trying-to-impress-but-I-actually-am kind of way.

“Say, please, Clara Crossly,” Apollo repeated, mirroring me.

I looked behind me for some support from Marissa, which she looked grateful for.

Marissa walked up and out of the mini-crowd of teenage girls, each shooting imaginary daggers at Apollo. I couldn’t blame him. He stood for all of the reasons why Hunters didn’t date.

“I think Clara is clearly not going to budge, so, please, move on,” Marissa said in a formal, forced voice that she rarely used. The wind rustled some of her brown ringlets, showing her face. She had the type of face that was elegant in the 1800’s; her cheekbones were defined, but she still looked like she could be 16. Her eyes were an ocean of gray, and her almost pointed ears poked out of her hair at times like this.

I, on the other hand, probably looked like I was 12 compared to her.

My messy, shoulder length, black hair was a mess at the moment from the wind and I knew my round, light green eyes gave me a baby-effect. My cheeks were too large for me to even look like a teenager, which is why I had adopted my death glare. It worked wonders for different situations.

But this one didn’t fit in that category.

Apollo didn’t look fazed by Marissa, which was weird because Marissa could always manipulate men.

But his attitude quickly changed and with a wave of his hand, his Ferrai was replaced by a van that would normally be used to haul kids from public school.

“Get in,” he said, jumping into the front seat. I followed his lead and went into the back and was surprised to see how nice it looked. It looked fairly new with 4 rows of seats, all with equal feet space and enough room to buckle the seat belt.

I sat in the far back, trying to put as must space between Apollo and I as possible. I buckled my seat belt and took a deep breath, wishing Artemis hadn’t mysteriously left.

I thought back to my dream; the dark shadow moving smoothly across our camp, moving without a sound or movement. It was the kind of thing that would be classified as ‘spooky’ and ‘unexplainable’. But that was never the case in Greek mythology. There was always a reason, always someone or something that could explain why and I would find out. No matter what it took, and I knew I would be getting the wrath of the other Gods once they know, which will probably be happening fairly soon.