The First [PRIVATE; ML]

Smog was everywhere; snaking up buildings, buffeting windshields, filling up expectant lungs. But what else could one expect from a highly industrialized and urbanized area such as New York? Noise was limitless, yet the burgeoning of culture and everyday routine was fascinating. On one side you had small vendors, barely making any income and, on another end, sleek black cars carrying important CEOs to work. Some people typed on Nokias, while the rest typed on iPhones and BlackBerry models. Beggars roamed the streets while the affluent dined leisurely. To most, these diverse things would be shocking-- but, raised in a city herself, Kale fit in like a glove.

The horizontally large building spanned out lengthily in all its cream-coloured glory. Okay, Kale, minimal eye contact; and, you're only here to buy shampoo... and maybe grab a bite to eat or tour a few branches. Kale ran through the list of instructions in her mind. It was a dangerous task-- leaving Camp without company, not bringing shades, and exposing herself to public view. Her sister would frown upon her decision, but Ariella was miles away and, good or bad, not there to nag at Kale. The latter demigod took a deep breath and walked calmly, past the revolving doors and into the mall.

She was immediately greeted by the scent of perfume, food, air purifiers, air-conditioning systems, and freshly pressed clothes blended into one. Luckily, judging peripherally, there was only a small population present. Kale finally released the air she held and gave a sigh of relief; just a few minutes more and the risk of being spotted would be nonexistent. She silently hoped that a cameraman would not notice her from magazines distributed so long ago, or from commercials, or, perhaps, her sister's pictures. Kale forced a walk of confidence, careful not to hold her chin high or low enough to draw attention. "Hello, welcome to the general items department." cooed a too-pitchy and too-cheerful automated voice. Kale cringed at the sound but continued her journey, determined to finish in fifteen minutes.
Florescent lamp rays reflected on the newly-waxed floor, and added an extra shine to polished plastic containers. This was the level.

Obviously quite rushed, Kale scanned the shampoo stacks, looking for the wanted brand and container. Come on, she thought as she brushed a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. After what felt like minutes, Kale located the bottle and quickly welcomed her palm to the plastic's synthetic quality. Have I exposed myself too much? I'm supposed to be in boarding school! Oh gods. Kale heightened her pace and nearly made a dash to the counter, but she was stopped midway-- and, by Tyche's luck, it wasn't someone asking for a photograph.

Just a few meters away, a boy walked foot-after-foot; he was struggling with several plastic bags. Something compelled Kale to loosen up her grip around the plastic shampoo bottle and approach the brown-haired boy with a free hand. Probably feeling someone near him, the poor guy stopped at his tracks and spotted Kale just a foot away, rummaging through her sling bag. She pulled out a marker and a notebook then, after setting the container she held down, began to write on an empty page.
'HI, I'M KALE.' it said in practiced handwriting, 'DO YOU NEED HELP WITH THOSE BAGS?' To emphasize her point, Kale gestured toward the heavy load the boy was carrying with a flick of her Sharpie.

Half-smiling at the boy's story, Kale's grip tightened around the notebook she was holding. A thought had suddenly struck her-- What if this guy was in cahoots with those Paps? Mentally cursing herself for not being more careful, she accepted Keegan's plastic bags with her other free hand. Guess the shampoo would have to wait.

When she was prompted for her name, Kale bit her lip and looked at Keegan apologetically. Surely, he must've understood that she was mute. Kale shrugged her shoulders and pointed to her mouth. 'SORRY, I'M MUTE' She formed the words with her mouth carefully, so the syllabication was clear and concise. Briefly afterward, Kale tucked her notebook and marker back in her sling bag and offered to carry more of the plastics by stretching out her empty right hand, eyebrows raised in anticipation.

Could she trust this guy not to sell her out? Hopefully, he didn't know who she was. Not yet, anyway. Kale adjusted her grip on the plastic bags and looked at Keegan. 'WHERE TO?' she mouthed in silence.

Why was she even helping him? Kale never met Keegan before, but his face struck a familiar chord that resonated within her. Maybe he was a camper? Or a celebrity's son?

It looked as if her fifteen-minute adventure had just lengthened to several hours. Suppressing a look of dismay, Kale smiled along and followed Keegan's strides, all the while balancing plastic, not to mention bulging, bags on both limbs. Gods, what could he possibly do with all these materials? Had he been planning a program of sorts-- a soup kitchen, perhaps? Then again, Kale had not managed to steal a peek into the contents of the plastics, so she couldn't conclude or hypothesize any of Keegan's intentions. As terrible it was to admit, she severely hoped that he wouldn't ask her to help carry these bags to his house, or any location farther than the boundaries of this mall-- the risk of being caught had escalated too much.
Smart move, Kale; helping out a stranger, possibly jeopardizing your identity and your sister's in one go. Mom must be so proud of you, Kale thought, mocking herself sarcastically as she adjusted her grip on the plastic bags she held. You can't be rude and leave him here, either. Always finish what you started. Kale scowled at the mindset she tackled the problem with as she and Keegan lurched down to the food court's level. Really, what ARE you doing, Kale?

As she was, once again, questioned for her name, the girl set the plastics to the side and took her seat. The scowl had gone and was replaced by a practiced smile; there was no point in becoming moody simply because of the strange situation, it was unbecoming of her. Kale reached into her sling bag and pulled out the same notebook she had exposed earlier on. This time, however, she merely flipped through pages instead of writing her name down. Pre-written introductions were always handy. 'My name is Kale.' it said in unmistakeable script. She flipped the notebook over for Keegan to see.