Nico

I arrived at work the next morning several minutes early. I crossed the foyer, glancing at Calypso who was once again engaged in a shouting match with Leo. The newsroom was already bustling with activity when I stepped through the threshold. It took every bit of athletic talent I had to successfully make it to my desk without running into anyone. I finally reached my desk, where Jason was already seated, fiddling with his camera as he waited. 

"G'morning, Jason," I greeted him, plopping down in my chair.

He looked up at me and set aside his camera. "Hi, Nico."

"Have you gotten today's assignment yet?" I inquired. 

Jason nodded, "Yeah, we're doing a story on the rising homeless population in the city."

"Huh, uplifting," I said sarcastically. "Where do we start?"

"A soup kitchen a few blocks from here," Jason answered. 

"Cool, I'll gather my things," I replied. I opened my messenger bag and shoved several pens, my wallet, and a notepad into the bag. Jason checked his stock of film and hung his camera around his neck. Once we were sure we had everything, we exited the newsroom and hurried to the elevator.

"What's this place called?" I asked as we joined the rushing crowd outside Times Tower.

"Angel's Mercy Relief Center. It's run by some church nearby," Jason responded. 

We continued to navigate our way through the busy streets until we arrived at a small building crammed between a pet store and a boutique. A sign that read, "Soup, bread, and coffee for the homeless and unemployed" sat by the door. A long line of men, women, and children stood outside the door, waiting for their turn to enter and collect their rations. "Excuse me, pardon me," I called as Jason and I pushed through the line. We finally made it to the door and entered the soup kitchen.

The scent of chicken soup and hot bread wafted through the air. Volunteers ladled soup into bowls, poured coffee, and distributed bread at a long counter to our left. The rest of the room was filled with tables crowded with people. 

Despite the chatter in the kitchen, a sense of hopelessness seemed to hang in the air. These people weren't here to enjoy a nice night out, they were here because they had no other choice. They had lost everything, and now they depended on the charity of others just to obtain basic necessities. It made me feel guilty for constantly complaining about my apartment. It could be worse. I could be here. 

"I think I see someone we can interview," Jason said, gesturing for me to follow. I trailed behind him as we made our way towards a chair in the back where a boy who didn't look much older than us sat. He had curly auburn hair and brown eyes. He wore a pair of boots that were several sizes too big, and a threadbare coat over a muddy shirt. 

"Hi," I said as we approached the boy. "My name is Nico di Angelo, and I work for the New York Times. I'm here to get an interview for a story I'm working on."

The boy leaned back in his chair and smirked, "An interview, eh? Go ahead."

"Thank you, mind if we sit?" I asked, motioning to the two empty seats across from him. 

"Sure," the boy replied. Jason and I took a seat. I opened my messenger bag and produced my notepad and a pen. 

"What's your name?" I began. 

"Travis Stoll," the boy replied. 

"How long have you been homeless?" I continued. 

Travis shrugged, "About six months."

I jotted down his response. "What originally brought you to New York City?"

"Jobs. There weren't any jobs where I used to live, so I had to leave," he answered. 

"What was your last-" I stopped mid-sentence. Across the room, I spotted a mop of golden curls and a flash of sun-kissed skin. I recognized the boy immediately: Will. 

Jason stared at me quizzically, "Nico? Nico?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Travis looking at me as well. 

I simply ignored them. All my attention was focused on the shock of seeing Will in a soup kitchen.  He approached the counter and grabbed a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee. I watched as he thanked the volunteer before seating himself at a table on the opposite side of the room. 

Jason laughed nervously, "Sorry about my partner, he's new. I can finish the interview." Jason continued to talk to Travis, taking notes with my notepad and pen. 

Meanwhile, I observed Will. He sat alone, casually glancing around the kitchen as he ate. I debated whether or not to walk over to him, but ultimately decided against it. It would be too awkward.  

Finally, Jason finished the interview. We said goodbye to Travis, and headed for the door. I was careful to stay hidden in the crowd as we passed Will so he wouldn't see us. 

"What was that all about?" Jason asked as we stepped out of the soup kitchen. I shook my head. I really didn't want to tell Jason about Will.  "Come on, Nico, you can tell me," Jason said. 

"I just saw some one, no big deal," I muttered, praying that he would let the subject go. But sadly, Jason persisted.

"Who was it?" he inquired. 

"Just an...acquaintance," I responded. 

"Who is this acquaintance?" Jason continued. 

"His name is Will and he's none of your business," I snapped, hoping Jason would take the hint and shut up.

"Sorry for prying, you just seemed really freaked out. If you need anyone to talk to you, come find me," Jason replied. 

I glared at him, "Whatever, Grace."

To my relief, we walked the rest of the way in silence. We returned to the newsroom, busy as ever, and went right to work sorting through the interview notes and the photos Jason had taken. 

As we were working, Mr. Zeus passed by our desk. He peered down at our progress. "Well, Mr. di Angelo, it looks like hiring you wasn't a mistake after all," he said. He suddenly noticed Jason beside me and fixed his icy gaze on him. The two stared at each other, anger and disdain swirling in their eyes. 

"Kudos to you too, Mr. Grace," Mr. Zeus said awkwardly. Jason gave a stiff nod before returning his attention to the photos and papers spread out before us. Mr. Zeus turned disappeared into the newsroom, not once glancing back at us. Even after he was gone, the tension lingered. I peered down at Jason. Maybe Will wasn't the only one hiding a few skeletons in his closet.