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Spencer's an infamously well-known “god” uninterested in his own fate. He turns nineteen-years-old on the first day of his last year at Colt Academy, the academic institution for gladiators. To celebrate, he unwillingly mentors a mysterious nerd, watches his family's helicopter plunge into the ground, and meets a strange Louisianan boy that may want to kill him. With the future of his family's fortune on the line, Spencer not only has to fight the occasional trip to Hades, but also train with his most hated childhood friend, discover the truth about his mother's death, and reestablish his legend as America's savior.
I’m such a failure.
My instructors say I’m the first of the bloodline that isn’t naturally a top ranking student. Therefore, professors are inclined to boost my grades in order to keep “the great Apollo” at the top of his class.
I apologize dear ancestors. I will honor you by falling on my sword.
Damn. I don’t have a weapon yet. Give me a few days, folks.
I find a seat on a stone bench next to a small pond and watch as several lizard-fish swim and crawl through the shallow water. One has the flesh of a koi fish but the body of a garden lizard. The gold and black colors blur as my heavy eyes close and my head drops. I’m still jet-lagged.
As I open my eyes, a sharp kick lands between my ribs. Before my attacker can remove her foot, I grab it tightly and swing her into the pool.
The plague sitting in front of me with her butt dipped in an inch of water, and her arms folded neatly around her legs, just so happens to call herself Hannah’s best friend, though I knew her long before the two met.
This tomboy has a kick that’s out of this world. Her barcodes are powered by the goddess Atalanta. Every god and demigod has a code that they’re born with. That’s what separates us from Apes and humans. Some gods bond well with their bodies, while others pump so much power into their flesh that they can hardly stand. Ever. It can be a gift or a curse.
“You got my panties wet, jerk.”
“Why would a boy wear panties?”
“Don’t call me a boy, you ugly pig.”
“You walk like one, talk like one, but wait, you kick like a girl,” I tease, but my ribs scream in pain. Even more, I’m defiantly conscious that Michelle’s beauty competes closely with the most attractive girl on campus, Hannah. Still, she and I are mortal enemies that will one day battle to her death.
I’ve seen these visions in my sleep. Any morning I wake up after slaying her just so happens to be a great day. Yes. I’m very aware that many people consider these dreams, but if they are prophetic, The Writer does truly love me.
“What does Hannah see in you?”
“What do you mean? She said that in our first year you always gushed over my blue eyes, and wouldn’t stop raving about my face.” I watch the wicked witch’s eyes nearly leap out of their sockets, and her face turns pale. If the tattoos on her legs shine, I’ll need to flee for my own safety. “Geez. You look so upset; I almost think it’s true.”
Now he's an author living in California's Bay Area. You can find posts about his random thoughts and adventures on his blog, kashifross.com.