My Life as One of the Most Powerful Demigods Ever. (A Percy Jackson Fan Fiction)

Chapter 18

We're baaaaaaack! We don't want to hold off the story any longer so the apology's at the bottom! Read on and enjoy!

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If you told me that Tory was going to be wearing high heels with a dress to a dance, I would've laughed in your face and suggested that you get back on your meds. And if you said that she would be doing it voluntarily I would've run for the hills because you're obviously out of your mind.

But when I turned around the night of the dance and noticed that she was taller than normal, and then saw that it was because of high heels, I almost thought that I was the one going cookoo.

"Um, Tory?"

"Yeah?"

"Why in Tartarus are you in high heels? Who's blackmailing you?"

"Nobody." she shrugs. "I just wanted to try them. They present a challenge."

"What's the catch?" I cross my arms, now suspicious.

"No catch."

I narrow my eyes at her, refusing to believe she's not working an angle.

She sighs. "Alright, fine, I replaced the tips with Celestial bronze. They're now deadly to monsters."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, a little surprised by her ingenuity. I say a little because this is Tory I'm talking about.

"You do realize they're dangerous to us now too, right?" I ask, looking up.

"Oh. Whoops. Forgot. Remind me not to step on our feet."

"You know, even with the potential weapons on your feet, you look awesome." I say, admiring her dress for the umpteenth time.

"Thanks. You look -"

"Stunning." I hear Connor say before snaking his arms around my waist.

"Oh, hi, Connor. You know they have this thing called knocking?" Tory greets sarcastically.

"You know they have this thing called the law, but I don't pay much attention to it either." he returns with a smile.

"Dang, lover boy, you clean up well." I say, taking in the sight of him in a suit.

"And you, Little Mermaid," he says, raising my hand and twirling me, "as I said, stunning." he smiles.

"Told you green was your color. Well, people, let's get this show on the road." Tory says with a clap.

Right as we're about to open the front door, Momma J stops us.

"See this?" she asks the kids, pointing at us. "This is how you pull off stolen - excuse me - borrowed property. This is class with skill. This," she sweeps her arm in a grand gesture towards us, "is style."

"Thanks Momma J but we seriously need to get going." I tell her.

"All right, all right, get outta here." she says playfully, shooing us out the door.

As she shuts the door, I hear her say, "And that, kids, is style running late."

I smile as we walk to the driveway, but I stop when I notice the car sitting there.

"Um, Connor, last time I checked, we didn't possess a shiny convertible."

"Oh, right. About that. I, um, found it."

"You found a car with the keys inside just sitting there for the taking in New York?" I ask.

"Victoria, come on. Obviously this car is not the property of Connor because A. When is anything he gets in the city ever NOT stolen? And B. He looks like he would rather fight a menataur on steroids than drive it." Tory says.