~ Chapter One
• Esme •
My dad is the best man in the whole world. He's smart, handsome, and pretty cool - for a dad, that is. He's not overly embarrassing. He's not.
Not really.
I suppose he is, a little. One year, at sport's day, I was racing Nero. And Dad was in the stands, shouting, "Come on, son! Esme's only five, she can't even use the toilet or wipe her butt by herself - you can totally beat her, champ!"
Charming, eh? I got teased for a month, had my lunch money and chocolate milk constantly nicked, and started feigning sick days. (It only ended when I lamped Rory Pinnock twice and escaped exclusion after getting Nero to say he, with a perfect record, did it.)
And I thrashed Nero - and Rory Pinnock and all his mates - in every single race.
Then there's Mum; she's good, too. The typical nagging kind of mum, but a good mum all the same. She's an utter brainbox, with some secretive job at the Empire State Building. Never tells us anything.
And, then, we have Nero. My twin brother.
Let me make one thing clear: Nero is okay. He's not brilliant, but he's not bad. He's half-decent, I guess you could say.
He's average-looking, with jet-black and sea-green eyes and fair clear skin. Obviously we aren't identical because I'm a girl and he's a boy. But we look nothing alike.
And I mean nothing.
I have curly dirt-blonde hair and eyes as grey as stormclouds. I'm not as light-skinned as Nero but I'm certainly not tanned. Nero's a stickler for rules, whereas I like to actually have fun.
I look like Mum but I have Dad's personality. Swap all that around and you get my dear brother.
So now you know my family.
Now it's time to know my story, and how it all began.
*
"Dad! We're gonna be late for school!"
Nero stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed.
"Yeah, can't have Golden Boy late for school," I said sarcastically.
Nero glared at me. "I've got to see Mrs Clarkson," he snapped, "and you know that. For once, I wouldn't mind being on time - no, maybe even early!"
Nero really got worked up about things because of his ADHD, but school was his life, despite his dyslexia. He was brainy, like Mum, but he got unlucky, like Dad. I only got Mum's dyslexia. I didn't mind being different to Nero. Nobody wants to be a swotty teacher's pet.
"Calm down, Nero," Dad said as he came down the stairs. "I'm now coming."
Mum walked out of the kitchen, teatowel in hand, wearing her coral-pink dressing gown. She looked really pretty for a thirty-two-year-old with thirteen-year-old twins. Her hair was tousled and blonde like mine, but hers was sleeker and lighter and curlier. Mum had eyes like silver moons, always glittering and gazing right through you. She had even white teeth whereas my middle two were slightly wonky. I didn't look anywhere near as lovely as my mother.
"Could you give me a lift to work, please, love?" she asked Dad.
Dad nodded, smiling. "Of course, Wise Girl. Get dressed. Nero wants us out in five."
Mum sprinted upstairs, and two minutes later, returned in a black cardigan over a white blouse and grey skinny jeans, with black and white converse. Her curls were tied back into a high ponytail, and she'd even applied a little grey makeup. She smiled at me.
"All right, sweetheart?" she asked, ruffling my hair. She paused and frowned. "Hey, what are you wearing, exactly?"
I blushed - one of my dad's tendencies. So I'd... jazzed up my school uniform a bit. My black knee-length skirt had been cut across the hem and ruffled up with safety pins and black thread. I'd knotted the end of my school shirt, and decorated my now-shortened tie (thanks to more safety pins and a pair of kitchen scissors) with school-hating badges. I'd spent an hour this morning doing my hair - two braids around my dirt-blonde hair, with the rest in a long fishtail plait, tied with a white bead bracelet.
Unusual, but pretty, quirky. Ethan would like it. (I'll tell you more about Ethan later.)
"Don't you like it?" I said, innocently batting my eyelashes - which were layered with mascara. My face is fairly spot-free and my teeth are normal enough, and I've got cool eyes that aren't like anybody else's.
"You look slightly tarted up," Mum said quietly so that Dad wouldn't hear. He's furiously overprotective of me, but thankfully he was too wrapped up with Nero to notice. "Lay off the makeup and I want that shirt unknotted and tucked in, Es, by the time we're at the gates. Okay?."
Rolling my eyes, I shouldered my denim backpack and followed Nero out of the front door. He swept his dark hair out of his green eyes and climbed into the backseat, me by his side.
"We'll get there in time," I told him, as I glanced at his worried face. "Probably early now."
He gulped. "That's the problem," he muttered.
I raised an eyebrow. He'd been begging to leave the house to see Mrs Clarkson. Was that the truth?
We arrived at the school gates. Determined not to get on Mum's bad side, I'd sorted out my shirt and dabbed at my lipgloss - just a smudge. I checked my watch. 8:19. Thanks to Nero's persistence, we were now forty-one minutes early. Nobody would be here except the chess club geeks, the band practice, the Christmas carol-singers practicing, the teachers and us.
Fantastic. Truly fantastic.
I waved goodbye to my parents, and promised to walk down to the local shop after school to meet Aunt Piper - our childminder. Or babysitter. Do you notice how both of these words mention some sort of kid? Me and Nero will be fourteen in a few months. Not fair.
But, in all due respect, Aunt Piper is seriously cool. She's not really our aunt, but one of Mum's absolute best girlfriends. She's super pretty, with light brown skin and dark hair with chestnut-coloured streaks, and eyes the colour of Galaxy chocolate. She normally ties her hair in a fishtail plait - which is where I got my inspiration for today's hairstyle - or straightens it down her back. Her fashion credentials are off the tee. She's always dressed in something that's totally in - which, for a thirty-year-old, can be hard.
She looked after Nero and I when our parents were working. Mum had that mysterious high-paying job at the Empire State Building, and Dad drove off every day to some camp miles from home with his pet dog, Nakamura. Neither parent ever spoke to us about their work day. I know Mum is an architect and Dad is a teacher of some sort, but that's all. Either way, they're not exactly the height of coolness.
"See you later," I said, and clambered after Nero.
He kept looking over his shoulder at me as we walked towards the school building. Today, he seemed extra shifty. Did this have something to do with his mystery meeting with Mrs Clarkson? Probably not. A guy can't look that nervous about meeting a teacher unless he has a crush on her, and Mrs Clarskon is a total dreamboat - the kind that crashed into rapids, fell down the waterfall and splintered in fifty million places on the way down.
"Nero," I called, "do you want -"
"Leave me alone, Esme!" he said angrily, and sprinted off around the back of the school.
I spun round to tell Mum and Dad, but they'd driven off hastily. Where were they going in such a hurry? They normally would've stayed to see us off. Why did everyone have so many secrets from me?
Undeterred, I followed Nero. Behind the school, where he'd scurried off, were a bunch of bins and the janitor's closet. Quietly, I snuck to the closet door and pressed my ear against it. Nothing. Nero wasn't in there, and hiding in a trash can hardly seemed his style.
The only other possibilty was the wire fence that separated this area from the playground. I looked it up and down. Nero wasn't exactly the sporty type, but it wouldn't have taken more than a minute for him to haul himself over. He wasn't exactly light as a feather but that was sheer muscle from gym workouts (don't repeat that).
Just as I was hooking my feet on the wire, I was blinded by pure white light. Then I heard a deafening crash that must've sounded for miles, and someone grabbed my shoulders and shoved me hard against the fence.
"Keep still, this is the BPA!" a deep voice growled.
"Who are you?" I asked, kicking and thrashing.
I waited, as the hands just pushed me painfully further inwards. Part of the wire ripped a huge hole in my tights and I groaned.
"Let the girl go," said a female voice. "Find the brother. Then we'll work on introductions."
*****
DUN. DUN. DUH!
So what does BPA stand for?
Who are these people?
What do they want with Esme and Nero?
Why was Nero so moody?
Who is Mrs Clarkson?
Where have Percy and Annabeth run off to?
What about Aunt Piper?
Even I don't know all of the answers yet. But I promised that The Jacksons would be EXPLOSIVE.
So explosive, it will be.
***