Violet S. Green and the Olympians

Death's Kid

"Hello," he said. "Do you know where to find a Ms. Maria?" "Umm, no, I'm not talking to you, you just hopped off a giant dog." I said. I mean, why should I trust him? Suddenly I heard Ms. Maria running while shrieking, "NICOOOOOO! Thank you for coming so quickly! We have a bit of a predicament." Uhh, what? Why is Ms. Maria talking to this random dude? "Ms. Maria, who is this?" I asked, ever so calmly. She looked panicked for a second like she had forgotten I was there.

"This is my half brother Nico. I called him here to help with a few things. He's going to come back with us to Louisiana." Yeah right. She LOOKS sheepish. "Well, you called my husband and he told me to come here." I heard Nico mumble. I decided to pretend I didn't hear that. I ran toward Carson who was a few yards away. "We better get going if we're gonna make it. Ms. Maria can find her way back." I said to him. He looked back at them both with a look of... familiarity? Did he know Nico? "Do you KNOW him? Did you see the dog he rode on? What the heck?" I questioned. "N-n-n-nooooo, I don't," he squeaked. Apparently the kid got voice cracks when he was nervous. "Can we go now? You said you were ready," he said, slightly less squeaky. Only slightly though. "Yeah sure, lets go." I said.
——————————————5 hours later at JFK—————————————
I jittered nervously as the plane was about to take off.  I don't know why, but I hate planes. Rather, them taking off. It feels like I'm torn between staying on the ground and soaring above the sky. Carson seems to hate them too as I saw him praying. In my opinion, God doesn't do anything. I mean, why did my "real" dad abandon my dad? Science makes a whole lot more sense than any of that Bible mumbo jumbo.

I dealt with my stepmother hurting my dad and I for years. I mean, why would he stay with her while she went out and used his money to go and buy jewelry and drugs. I didn't get new clothes for years. I swear she had cheated on my dad a thousand times. Thanks to her drug addiction, she landed in the hospital and had a random heart attack. My dad seemed like a survivor of Stockholm Syndrome because he CRIED. Why, I will never know. The plane started to rumble and I felt panic rising in my chest. Breath in and out I told myself. I saw Ms. Maria and Nico looking equally as nervous a few aisles down. Why in the universe did we take the bus to New York, but fly back? That makes literally no sense. It was probably the school being weird with funding. Carson gripped the hand rests harder as the plane lifted off the ground. Hopefully we got there soon so Carson would stop hyperventilating.
———————————————6 hours later————————————————
Well, I don't think I died. Thanks to the layover in North Carolina, I was able to have TWO stressful flights. Yay me. There was a whole heck of a lot of turbulence on both flights though. Kinda sucked. I looked around for my dad since the school didn't provide a bus for no apparent reason. "DAD!" I shouted as I saw him. "Violet? How was the trip? Come on, Roland's waiting in the car," he said. "I made some grater cakes too!" "Rainbow?" I asked. He shook his head. "Who would I be if I didn't?" He laughed. If you didn't know, grater cakes are a fairly common dish in the Caribbean. It's literally the BEST food ever, especially since my dad makes them rainbow because I hate pink and the original desert is literally bright pink. It's made of coconut and sugar and is warm generally. I walked into the parking garage and headed towards the car. I hopped into the back seat and threw my backpack next to me. "Hey Violet! How was New York?" Roland asked.

Roland had gotten married my dad a few months ago and I loved him. It got really confusing calling them both dad so I just call him Roland. His green and blue hair was spiked with gel which complimented his grey green eyes. I have to admit, my dad's fashion choices have improved from wearing a large amount of collared shirts, vests, and dress pants to a more chill style, filled with khakis and t-shirts since meeting Roland. He helped me customize my shoes too. I mean, what kind of stepfather paints something for 3 days just to hang up in their stepdaughter's room? Roland Crest, that's who. We drove along with the three of us singing to the radio. Did I mention they met each other in the Baton Rouge Symphony Choir?

When 3 singers get in a car, there's a whole lot of harmonizing going on. We were driving down to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, or as we Trinis like to call it, Carnival. Well, they aren't technically the same, but they're pretty similar. (AN: Pronounced Car-knee-vall) Compared to Trinidad's, New Orleans is a train wreck, but it works. Driving for almost 2 hours while doing carpool karaoke can tire a person out, as well as their vocal cords. We did have a grater break, obviously. It was great. Having spring break earlier in the year is great, especially when it almost always falls the week of Fat Tuesday. By the way, neither me or my dad Catholic or Christian. We just celebrate because the culture. I couldn't stop thinking about how Nico had appeared and I got a sense of dread. That feeling happened sometimes with Ms. Maria, but she covered it well. After all, they can't be minions of death or something. Right?
—————————————AN: Don't murder me—————————————
AN: Please don't murder me. I am not Catholic, Christian or anything that relates to Jesus. I'm Indian as heck, I'm going off Google and my babysitter who has lived in Trinidad her whole life til 20 years ago. If you want me to fix something, feel free to comment. This chapter is like 800 words not including this AN because I couldn't find a good stopping point. (I literally forced it) There is a MAJOR amount of exposition and ish. If you haven't figured out who Ms. Maria is, did you even read HOO? (Jkjk) Have a good day y'all!