Blame Aphrodite - SAMPLE-

A Day Off

"You'll get us both in trouble, Everett. And over some girl?"

"She's way more than that to me, Peter. She has grabbed my attention without even trying." I smiled at him.

"My stance remains the same in this situation. You're going to end up hurt but I think you should have your fun while it lasts," He said, rumpling my hair before standing up. "Don't let Mr. Gibson kill you out there today. He's pretty pissed about the whole poison thing."

Gibby's punishment today was target practice. An array of different weapons was laid out in front of me. My guard so graciously allowed me to choose which weapon I wanted to use first. Little did he know, I was a good shot. With any weapon.

I had to hand it to my father for preparing me for this when I was younger. Granted, I hated it back then as much as I hate it now, my stance hasn't wavered, but at least the torture was now coming in handy. What I just couldn't understand is why all of this was necessary.

How many more times did I have to ace everything Gibby threw my way before they'd let up? And with no commendation from my father, it made me wonder if he even knew how well I was doing. Perhaps he did know and he didn't want to give me the satisfaction of saying he was proud of me.

His praise wasn't needed, it just would've been nice. My father and I didn't get along but that doesn't change the fact that he is my father and there was that part of me, deep, deep, very deep down that cared what he thought of me. However, that part of me was growing deeper and deeper with each passing day.

"If you can hit all ten targets with one shot-," Gibby started speaking but I didn't waste any time. I lifted the rifle, aimed, and shot at the first target, nailing it right in the middle. After loading the weapon again, I repeated the process until I had hit all ten targets, one right after the other.

"If I can hit all ten targets with one shot, then what?" I asked, placing the rifle back down on the table. Gibby tried his hardest to hide the baffled look on his face.

"Did I say ten? I meant twenty."

I sighed before repeating the process, again and again. After the third time, Gibby increased the increments from ten shots in a row to twenty and then to thirty. The cycle kept going until we had run out of ammo.

"Maybe for tomorrow's 'challenge', we can strap that target to your back and you can run around in that field. I'd have to miss a few shots at least, right?" I joked, placing the gun down once again. I felt his eyes stabbing at the back of my head. "Yes?" I prompted, turning around to face him.

"Your cocky attitude will get you killed one of these days, Everett. You might be genius-level smart and an ace in weaponry but I know for a fact that hand-to-hand combat is where you'll fall short. And I can't wait to be the one to fail you."

"I guess we'll see about that-,"

"How's it going over here?" Gibby and I both froze as my father approached. "Problems?"

"No problems, sir. Like always, your son is surpassing all expectations."

"Ahh, that is what I like to hear. Keep up the good work, both of you." My father slapped my back but before he could leave, I called out to him.

"I have a few things I'd like to do this evening, Father. If you'd let me."

"It's not anything to do with that damn poetry, is it?"

"Linguistics, actually. Learning a new language could prove beneficial in future war strategy, I think." His eyes lit up and at the same time, I felt Gibby's mood dampen.

"That sounds like a good idea. Gibby, help him with that, would you?"

Through gritted teeth, Gibby agreed.