First World Problems (a Percy Jackson AU)

We Were Made Sick

~Hazel~
      "What do you mean I have hookworm?" I asked, my voice trembling.
      The nurse's eyebrows creased and she rolled her eyes. "You and your brother have hookworm," she repeated in a monotonous voice. "I can't believe an American could contract hookworm, but you two are filthy."
       Nico's hands were shaking and I could feel my own knuckles tense up. We were filthy? She dared to look down upon us as if we had any control over where we were born. Did she think we wanted to live a place where the sewage systems were so bad that the smell of human waste clogged the air? She had no idea how my mother tried to save up to buy a septic tank, but there were always too many bills.
      I glanced at my brother. Though we looked very different, we were both born poor. Our father had been a wealthy businessman, but his helping hand only extended so much as to pay for Bianca and Maria's funeral. He even challenged our mothers' claims for child support, spending more money trying to not help us out than he would have if he had just complied with our mothers' wishes. He was the ultimate dead-beat dad.
"How much will the treatment cost?" Nico asked. "Will our insurance cover it?"
"We don't accept Medicaid," the nurse said sharply. "All of your costs will be out of pocket."
"Why didn't weren't we told this before?" I asked.
"It's in the fine print," the nurse said. "Are you two too dense to read?"
Nico's dark eyes were starting to resemble icicles made of ashes, so I quickly stood up and offered him a hand.
"We're taking our business elsewhere," I told the nurse.
*****
"What are we supposed to do?" I asked my brother.
Though we were both the same age, he felt more mature than me, though the first time I had seen him, I was surprised that this scrawny boy was my brother.
"We could go to the free walk-in clinic," Nico said tersely. "It's open next Tuesday."
I nodded. "That's a good idea," I said.
We continued to walk, the only sounds cutting through our silence being the steady drumming of our feet against the sidewalk and the heavy whooshes of cars flying by. The city was alive even at night. Brightly lit signs advertised banks for college students to shove their fortunes carelessly into and various establishments for them to show it off.
I had never felt so out of place as I had when I had moved in Olympus University. My roommate seemed nice enough, but she reeked wealth. I saw that wealth everywhere; the perfectly styled outfits that cost more than my schoolbooks, the smell of designer perfume that cost more than a our bill from the doctor's, and the sight of people eating luxuries as if they were saltine crackers. I felt gawky and out of place with my beat-up shoes, second-hand clothes, and worm-infested stomach.
When we reached our dorm, we went our separate ways. I felt my shoulders slump further to the ground. I keyed into my room and swung open the door to see my roommate viciously punching her pillow, her face wet. For a moment, my concern for her outweighed the heaviness draped over my heart; I moved closer towards her.
"What happened?" I asked.
She sniffed loudly before replying, "My useless boyfriend broke up with me!"
I didn't know that my roommate had a boyfriend - only that she was a sophomore.
"Why would he do that?" I asked.
She looked up sadly before answering, "You see, he has a wife."