XIII: Connor Shows Off

The skate park wasn't a huge deal. 

Built in cement hills and steep slopes, set in a lower middle class neighborhood, it stood unceremoniously. Graffiti stained the walls and floors, marking it with livelihood and the others' presence there. Semi-closed, part of it was set under a parking lot. Connor told me that through the east, a tunnel connected it to an abandoned construction site, where he liked to go and climb. 

He lived two streets down the park, and his brother often hung out with his friends there. I could see why. It was a nice place, calm sort of ambience in all the noise. 

By the time we'd gotten there, it was already five forty, and the sun already started to set, dimming Manhattan's blue sky in a grayish orange. People started returning from their jobs, filling the streets with their tired steps.

In the park, a group of teens sat by a table, some looking at the stunts an older boy performed, and others laughing as they talked on the floor. Connor pointed at them.

"That's my brother there!" he exclaimed, before dragging me to the group of people enthusiastically. "Travis!"

Travis looked almost identical to Connor, honestly. I mean, Travis' build was a bit more accentuated, and he was an inch shorter than Connor, but beside that, they practically looked like twins. That day, the scratch across Travis' cheek was pretty much the only thing that allowed me to differentiate them.

He sat on the table, his feet set on the bench. Travis wore a red Yankee cap facing back, flattening his hair. In his hands, he held a coca-cola can, which he set down upon hearing his name.

"Baby bro!" he exclaimed, cackling, as he rotated his entire body to face us. "Connor, I see you've brought your–"

He was cut off by the sole of Connor's shoe meeting with his face, and whatever he was about to say was muffled. 

"Kill yourself, Travis." Connor smiled, waving at the other kids as his brother clutched to his own nose. He put a hand on my back. "This is Erica, a friend from summer camp."

"Damn, if even Connor is pulling from that summer camp, I might sign up!" a guy whistled, jumping up from the bench to shake my hand. "I'm Kenny, how'd you do?"

I took his hand, laughing as I tightened my grip. Kenny had at least five piercings on his face, without counting his earrings. His braids swinged and touched his neck when he moved, the ends bleached.

"Firm handshake, dude." he said, without letting go, nodding with an ear-to-ear smile. "We have a lot in common, damn. We should for real get together, girl."

"Oh, you sure?" I smirked, drawing some laughs from Travis and his friends. "Dunno if your scrawny ass can handle me."

The boy shrugged, and as I tightened more, he took back his hand finally. 

"Ow!" he yelped, trying to shake the pain from his hand. The group scoffed and chuckled, and a girl threw an empty bag of chips to his face. "Why you throwing stuff at me, fuckface?"

"Kevin here is a bit of a bitch, don't mind him." Connor laughed, while Travis threw a can of soda at me. "When are you seven dirtbags taking off?"

Travis stood up on the table, raising his hands as if Connor had offended him greatly. His eyebrows were raised, and he sneered exaggeratedly before starting to speak.

"My gods, Connor… You won't even introduce our friends to Erica????" he fanned his own face, as if he was a Victorian lady about to faint. "Do you not value us??? Oh lord, oh lord! Ungrateful boy!"

A tan girl with lustrous dyed pink and green locks that went down till her waist jumped up to the table, joining Travis. Her long gel nails clacked when she spoke, making it seem as if it were there to emphasize it more.

"Look how upset you've made your frail brother, Connor!" she whined, bending her knees to point at Travis with her arms. "My, my… This is how easily you'd discard us?"

Connor sighed exasperatedly, as I almost died from laughter. 

"Guys…" 

"Connor, you told me you loved me last night…" a short boy weeped, flailing his face into his hands. "I thought we were forever!"

"ADAM!" Connor shouted, lifting a hand to hit him.

The rest of their friends laughed insanely, a couple pretending to be offended. I certainly saw why and how they got along. The energy that they gave off was the equivalent of a hamster simultaneously on a ridiculous amount of steroids and cocaine.

I almost choked on the soda when Connor slapped down his left hand on my shoulder without warning. 

"ERICA!" he yelled. My eyes darted to him confusedly.

"YEAH? WHAT'D I DO?" I spat the liquid onto the floor.

"NELLY WANNABE GOTH, ADAM CLOSETED GAY, KENNY WITH UGLY BRACES, DAME OR DANIEL WHO SELLS FAKE SHIT, LAURA WHO HATES US BUT HAS NO OTHER FRIENDS, JELLO OR JESSE FROM CABIN TWELVE, TRAVIS MY BITCHASS BROTHER!" he shouted in one breath, pointing at each and everyone. 

Then, he snatched the coke from his brother's hand, gurgling it down and then throwing the half empty can back at his face, spilling it all over his clothes.

"Hey!" Travis complained, but he could hardly stop laughing.

Connor swallowed down the drink, then took a deep breath and smiled radiantly at me again. I hesitantly smiled back, then looked at everyone he pointed at.

"Those are my friends!" he remarked, giggling like a six year old girl.

So, if I hadn't gotten it wrong… Nelly was the dramatic one on the table with the pretty hair, Adam was the blond-brown haired boy with glasses sitting on the bench, Laura the dark girl with straight hair sitting next to Adam, rolling her eyes, Jesse was the redhead (apparently a Dionysus kid) sitting on the floor sipping on Kool-Aid, Dame was the mid height Asian kid who'd been doing stunts when we arrived, and Kenny was the lightskin who shook my hand… Right.

They went quiet, staring at me processing the information, before we all burst laughing. I clutched to Connor, who also tried to not fall to the floor.

"Interesting company you have here, Connor." I said, after we calmed down. He nodded in agreement. 

"Definitely." Laura, who was obviously british, said, standing up to shake my hand. She eyed Connor with spite. "I do have other friends, wanker. I just pity you lot."

I shook her hand with a smile as she spat at Connor's feet jokingly. 

"Go drink your tea, Laura." he retorted.

In return, she scowled at him.

"I'm sure your little girlfriend doesn't think well of your blatant racism, white boy." 

"I'm actually nine percent Spanish." Connor proclaimed, raising his brows and crossing his arms. "Who's the racist now, bigot?"

Laura scoffed, miming "dumbass" to me and walking to Dame. He held his skateboard with one hand, and with the other he pulled Laura in by her waist, before pecking her on the lips casually. Everyone went quiet, judging them silently.

"Anyway, this is Erica. She's awesome at fencing." Connor announced, and some of them waved. "What time are you guys staying until?"

"I'll be hosting the homeless at my place tonight." Daniel said, shrugging as he gave the iced coffee back to his girlfriend. "My sister's leaving for her date at six thirty, and Sal is leaving the house around the same time, so… six thirty, we're all out of here."

"Ah, what a bummer." Travis sighed, glancing at his brother mischievously. "I was hoping to crash his little–"

"No, six thirty is awesome!" Connor grinned, as he grabbed my soda and threw it at Travis. The can hit him square on the face, leaving a little bruise on his cheekbone. "We'll talk until then."

He sat me on the bench, and I couldn't help but feel like I was being examined by all his friends, however unserious the mood was. 

Travis had gone to flaunt his skating skills about ten minutes after I sat down, trying to dodge everything Connor threw at him. Kenny spent the forty minutes we had hitting on me, spitting out random pickup lines while I tried to maintain a normal conversation with Nelly and Dame. Jesse likely held grudges still from the war, and avoided looking at me or speaking to me as much as he could. 

When the talk of siblings came up, I couldn't help but wince a bit, but ended up saying that he passed away in an accident a few months back. Everyone had looked sad, trying to offer words of comfort and shenanigans, but I'd noticed the sneer from the son of Dionysus.

He'd been the one to point out the time, rushing his friends away and leaving me alone with Connor. We'd sat on top of one of the slopes, looking at the night sky dim out the light of day. He had a lollipop in his mouth, the plastic stick out like a cigarette. 

"So? Do you like them?" he asked, as he kicked his feet in the air like a little kid. 

"Huh? Yeah, of course. They're nice."

"Yeah. Sorry about Jello, by the way." his feet stopped, and he looked at me. "I don't think he understands. He's skeptical about you, that's all."

I nodded.

"I don't blame him. It's only natural to hold grudges." I shrugged. I understood the boy fathered by Dionysus. I mean… he was with his dad for months every summer. 

When I'd joined them, I knew it would ruin lives, and it was a price I was willing to pay for justice. Now… I wasn't so sure anymore. I'd killed, directly or not, kids. They were nothing more than that. Children who would have futures, if they hadn't been so rudely torn away from them. 

"None of it was your fault, you know?" muttered Connor, almost as if he knew or heard my thoughts. "You only fought for what you thought was right, which is more than most of us did."

"Yeah. It was hard to survive." I sighed. My throat was dry. "I don't know if I chose correctly. Me and Ethan… we should've stayed out."

"Maybe." he said, in his crisp voice, as he shrugged. "But you wanted to be protected. What they offered was more than we'd given you."

"Yeah, I guess. And Ethan just wanted to… Prove himself. To Nemesis." I explained, sipping on my drink. "I don't know, I never call her 'mom'... I just don't see her as such."

"Same. Travis calls Hermes dad, but for me, he's no one."

We talked without needing to see each other's eyes. Speaking of this with him didn't feel heavy, and it didn't sadden me much. His casualness made me comfortable: when we talked about serious or sad shit, at most he wasn't hyperactive. As if he knew what I was thinking, he spoke:

"I don't know how you do this, Erica. Calm me down like this."

I smiled, leaning against him slightly.

"I feel nice around you. It's like… The way you are." he tried to explain, chuckling. "I don't know, dude. Your company is nice. It quiets down everything around me, it always feels like too much. But you're like… my xanax."

"No, I get you." I nodded. Stars started to show. "You cheer me up too, Stoll. It's weird."

"Xanny. Heh, can I call you that?" he asked, giggling as if he were proud of himself. "Erica sounds so formal, and there's hardly any good nickname that comes from that."

I agreed, and we stared at the sky for a bit longer, letting our words sink in and down the ground. It seemed right.

"Fuck the godly parenthood, man." I declared, to which he snickered. "No, I'm serious!"

I looked at him, grabbing his shoulders to draw his attention. He turned his body to me, still laughing with the lollipop in his mouth.

"I mean, I already accepted that I'm basically an orphan, right?" I continued. "It'd be so much easier to see them as like… our bosses, you know? Sending us on missions and whatnot."

"Yeah, actually." he agreed, frowning while he thought of it. "Still, they're douches."

"Facts though." I scoffed. "It makes much more sense for my employer to fuck around, calling me when I'm sleeping to tell me something trivial."

"I'm gonna start asking for that salary." he shrugged, jumping down the slope and kneeling at the bottom as if he were worshiping me. "Oh, mighty Hermes, I thank you for your protection, but I can't help but noticing that you still don't pay me enough. Oh, god of commerce and speed, child labor is a crime."

I laughed, reaching into my pocket and throwing a penny down at him, which he caught with a flick of his hand.

"Greedy mortal. You'll never get promoted to Hero if you're so money-oriented." I did my best impression of Hermes, but it sounded more like Zeus if he had a nasal infection. 

We both swallowed the urge to burst into laughter at my poor imitation, and continued our dramatic representation of the ugly truths of the olympian workplace. 

"I'm going to report you to the syndicate of demigods, almighty Hermes." Connor crossed his arms, although still on his knees. "In fact, I'll go to Iris Journalism… Show the world how twisted the Godly Entreprises truly are!"

"You wouldn't dare!!!" I gasped, as I reached for something to throw at him. I grasped the hat Travis had left with him, hauling it at him.

It flew toward him, lifting some dust that made him cough and ultimately hitting him square on the forehead. He yelped, putting a hand to his forehead.

"Petty employee…" I grumbled, before laughing and jumping down to him, holding out my hand to help him up. 

"Your impression of Hermes is awesome." laughed Connor, taking it and hauling himself to his feet. "Insanely good."

Suddenly, his eyes lit up like a cat, a Cheshire grin shaping his dimples.

"Did you bring your sword, Vendetta?" he asked, practically jumping of excitement. 

"Uh, yeah." 

I fumbled inside my pants' pockets, until my fingers closed around the cold metal of the Zippo lighter. I opened my hand before him, the lighter quietly sitting on my palm. Connor snatched it, analyzing the shell closely. His gaze met mine, searching for approval, and when I smiled he flipped open the cap, and the blade sprung out, cutting the air.

"Wow! It's crazy!" he exclaimed, swinging it through the air. "It's not as heavy as celestial bronze. My old blade is half as thick and I think they weigh the same!"

He handed the sword back to me, and when it touched my skin it turned into a lighter again.

"Come with me!" he called, taking me by my arm and running to the enclosed part of the park. 

The lights set on the ceilings flickered weakly, drowning the air in a faint yellowish hue. Perhaps it was that, and perhaps it was the graffitis covering each inch of the walls, and columns, and floor, that made this corner feel different. 

"I come here to practice my jumps." he explained. The space made his voice resonate. "It's a cool spot."

"Yeah, it is." I agreed, sitting down on some steps that led to nowhere. "Show me."

"Yeah, bet!" he grinned, as he took his jacket off and walked to place it next to me, on the floor. The boy took out the cherry flavored lollipop that'd been in his mouth for the past ten minutes.

I thought he might wrap it in some paper or throw it out, but instead he simply nudged down my chin with a hand and put the candy in my mouth with the other. The simplicity in his movement surprised me, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to do. Heat rushed to my cheeks, making me blush like a kid being asked out by her crush. The smoothed out caramel went against my tongue gently, the sweetness of it followed by a bitter aftertaste. 

If he noticed it, he didn't say anything or react to it. He pushed up his sleeves, showing the slight contour of his arms. 

"Keep that for me. I don't wanna waste it."

"Oh." I stuttered in response, looking down to keep him from seeing my eyes.

I wondered if he was flirting with me, and if I wanted to flirt back. Connor was different from the other men who'd pursued me. Was he even flirting with me? Normally they tended to be more straightforward. I was probably imagining things. Maybe he really just did it without second intentions? I was probably overthinking this.

He smiled casually as he walked backward, making his little runway. He kept glancing at me, as if he was scared I'd look away and miss it. At that time, I'd finally been able to push down the blood from my face.

Connor started running forward, his feet touching the ground swiftly and with certainty. His arms moved with his body, pushing the air back with every step, as if he was born to do so. 

"You'll love this!" he shouted, looking at me just before he reached the wall.

He steadily kicked the wall with his right foot, launching his entire body up, just as his right hit the concrete as well and threw him further up. His arms reached, and touched the high ceiling, finding a single gap between the slabs of painted cement. Connor grasped for that empty space, hanging on the ceiling by one single arm.

"Wait a minute!" he huffed, his face focused, and yet in his eyes and his voice was pure passion, a bird that glided, splitting open the sky with feathers made of dopamine and energy. "Check this out, Xan!"

I did as he asked to, just as he started to swing around slightly with his free arm, searching for some impulse. I stared at him in awe, my mouth half open. I think he was aware of how amazed I was, and I do believe he meant for it to be that way.

"Don't look away!" he beckoned, before curling his entire back, letting go of the ceiling before doing an impossibly perfect flip, shit that didn't even show in the action movies. 

The 360º he'd drawn in the air came to an end, and just when I thought he'd land, he stepped on the air as if it were solid, kicking his heels up again before he could even hit the floor. The shirt lifted a bit, flashing his paleish skin and a scar.

In the fraction of second it seemed as if he were standing, his eyes crossed mine, adrenaline-charged meeting awestruck. He'd smirked, and afterwards he flailed his body backwards, his hair thrown back upon the air current he drew. Bending his knees, he made that jump last longer than I thought physically possible. When he finally landed, his eyes seemed crazed, as if he'd just gotten a hit of a brand new drug.

He stared at me for some seconds, as if he expected a review. I didn't manage to get a sound out, and instead kept staring at him. It'd been amazing. It was better than the video, definitely. The air tasted different, as if his static electricity had revamped the oxygen, freshening it with adrenaline. He really seemed to fly.

He walked toward me, crouching down before me to grab his jacket with half a frown. 

"That was a bit short, hah." he chuckled, a bit bitter, covering his face with his left hand as if he was reprimanding himself. "I've jumped for longer. I could jump higher, the ceiling is too low here, and–"

"Connor." I interrupted, lifting his face to look at him. His eyes met mine in a mist of shock and a pinch of regret or shame, a line of his sweat marking his forehead. "That was amazing. I've never seen someone move like that. It's beautiful. You're beautiful." 

He stood up, having me looking up to his reddened face, and now his slight grimace turned into an embarrassed smile. 

"I thought you didn't like it." he chuckled, scratching his hair. "Let me show you another one."

And he did. Each was more impressive than the last, but as I got past the wonder, I noticed the flaws of his flying. Loose arms, exposed neck, wrong paces. He kept showing me his routines, and after that he started improvising midair, which was also surprising.

"I thought you'd give me some tips though." he said, after he tired out. He sat down next to me, chugging on water.

His face was a bit red, and sweat trickled down his forehead.

"What, for your jumps?"

He nodded enthusiastically. 

"Uh, I don't know about jumping or whatever it is you're doing." I laughed, standing up. "Are you going to do that type of trick when you're fighting someone?"

"I dunno, maybe, depending on what you say." he shrugged, as he looked at his fingers and blew off the dust. 

"I mean… It's surprising, for sure, and if you're opening with that they'll panic for a minute, definitely." I nodded, taking into account my parted lips for the entirety of his jump. 

"But the second flip, the more open one, you expose your body-" I pointed to his chest. "-and are slow enough for them to stick a knife into you. But if it's an opponent with heavier blades… You have a half-certain shot to not get killed."

"Notes taken." he said, with a large grin. "Will you teach me?"

"Now?" I inquired, suspicious of his puppy eyes. His head bobbed back and forth insistently. "Dude. Right now?"

He nodded again, a sly edge in his pout. He seemed like he'd insist and never stop annoying me if I didn't succumb to his imploring. I paused, thinking for a moment and imagining the damage I could accidentally inflict on him. If I thought like his opponent, and with the skill I'd acquired, he'd be crippled in less than an hour.

"Not here. We don't have wooden swords." I crossed my arms, unwilling to accidentally murder the boy. 

"Did you learn with wooden swords?" he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as well to match my stance. 

I didn't learn with wooden swords. I learnt with my blood spilling on the rocks, and the grass, and the deck of Princess Andromeda. I learnt knowing that my trainers had no hesitation in killing me, and would feel no remorse after doing so. Before the Titans trained me, I was trained by monsters who actively tried to murder and eat me. It was efficient, but I wouldn't wish it on Connor, that innocent kid. 

I didn't answer, and he laughed.

"You can use my sword, sheathed. I'll jump again, and you'll try to murder me." he suggested, hands on my shoulders trembling of excitement. "Sheathed! I'm fast!"

"Ugh, fine." I sighed, and he started hysterically unlocking the sheathe from his belt, handing the katana to me. "Don't come crying to me when I ruin your pretty face."

"You think I'm pretty?" he giggled, batting his eyelashes and drawing another sigh from me. He paced toward the wall, without bothering to gather inertia this time.

He repeated the movement, climbing up the wall and throwing himself up, fast and agile. His feet touched down and lifted quickly, but there were pauses in his continuous choreography. Gaps in his perfection, seams for him to breathe. When he hovered above me, I swiped the sword in an arc, touching his back. He gasped, but still he continued. 

This time, the gap in the ceiling wasn't a place of support, but only a point that he pushed back for impulse. The flip was good, but I hit him on the forehead with the flat of the blade as he neared the end. He yelped this time, and did that thing in which he stepped on air, taking him further up. 

His feet kicked up against the wall, propulsing him, but when the tip of the sheathe poked his leg, the leap broke instantly, throwing him off and allowing the sword to find his neck. I pulled down the sword, and his body with it, falling down to the floor. Connor tried to move out, but only managed to land on the edge of his toes, in a fragile stand. 

With a small push of the sword to his throat, the boy fell back, falling on his back.

"Ow." he groaned, sitting up with my help. 

"See why I mentioned wooden swords?" I asked, chuckling as he rubbed the back of his head. 

It was his fault for making me train him with no equipment, which was dumb and perhaps impulsive of him. Weirdly enough, I couldn't really see through Connor's thoughts like I could with most people. I understood and learnt to think like Percy, Annabeth, Luke, even Chiron. He was nothing like them. 

It was like he was hardwired differently, like he came from a separate batch. I think I found interest in that. Interest in him.

"Yeah, thanks. I see what you meant with the flip now." he answered, his usual smile returning to its place. "You're awesome!"

"You should get some training with those jumps." I shrugged, as I watched him jump up. "You could end up hurting your–"

My sentence was cut short by a deafening roar that every demigod had learnt to recognise. 

Fuck.