This is a new story I'm going to be writing. I want to get at least 5 chapters into it before continuing my guide. If you love happy endings, please, just turn back. The character is named after my Aunt Joy's newborn, Erin Joy Olding, who was born March 22, 2010. Again, sorry if the punctuation is terrible, semi colons are not my forte. Quick thing for some people: if I review your story, don't bother using the whole "English isn't my first language." because it honestly will NOT work on me, I learned English when I was 8 years old. Just mentioning it, because I have gotten a message saying something like that. Now, enough wasting time here, on with it XD!

Judgement Day

"ERIN!"

Startled, I fell out of bed, and onto the hard floor of cabin 7. I groaned, lifting my head up, and rubbed my temples.

"Really, Doug? Must you always do that?" I moaned, "What time is it anyways?"

"Err... 7:30 am" Doug replied, cheerfully. Too cheerfully for my liking.

I hoisted myself up onto one elbow, glaring at him. I picked up my pillow, and threw it at his large head. Like always, it missed, and fell to the floor with a dull thump.

"Wow, Erin... For someone who's good at archery, you have terrible aim," he snickered.

Yet again, I glared at him.

"Shuddup, I just want to go to sleep," I snapped.

"NO! If you go back to sleep, you'll be complaining all day that you missed breakfast, and that it was my entire fault! If you close one eye... You'll regret it!"

I glanced at him. "That's an empty threat. You're too much of a softy."

"Suit yourself, just don't come crying to me," he said bluntly, walking out the door.

I sighed, deciding that if I went to sleep, I'd miss breakfast and lunch. Reluctantly, I got up, and trudged my way over to a mirror, bracing myself. My hair wasn't as messy as it usually was when I woke up, but it still seemed impossibly tangled. The dark bags under my eyes were getting darker every day, and my lips were chapped. I grumbled and picked up my brush. My blonde hair was impossible to tame.

**********

After the difficult task of brushing my hair, I ate breakfast, which was uneventful, like always. Percy and Annabeth were bickering. Laughter filled the air, and everyone seemed to be talking, giving me a headache. I sat down at the far end of the Apollo cabin's table, and ate my breakfast in pure silence, the way I liked it.

Once I was finished my breakfast, I left immediately to practice archery. When I arrived to the targets, I picked up a bow and arrow.

Archery was my favourite thing to do. I wasn't good at sword fighting or capture the flag, like Percy was. I wasn't even all that great at medicine. Archery was the one thing that got my mind off of things, the one thing that I was actually good at. When I was eight, I was a nightmare with a bow, but after a few weeks at Camp Half-Blood, I started to get the hang of it. I remembered how to put on the arm-guard correctly: it went on the bow arm, which was my left arm. I made sure that my elbow was parallel to the floor, and at high anchor, the way I preferred it. I made sure that my hand was placed firmly on the grip, and I shot. The arrow propelled its way to the target.

"Dang." It was right beside the bullseye.

I remembered the first time I had picked up a bow. I hadn't even aimed the arrow correctly. I was clumsy, and had a weak shot. I couldn't get the arrow to propel within 10 feet of the target.

The best practice I had ever gotten was during the Battle of the Labyrinth, and then when we were guarding Olympus. I couldn't do too much during the latter, however, because I almost immediately got injured, with a dislocated shoulder and broken leg.

Smiling, I took my IPod out of my jean pocket, and started listening to what hurts the most by the Rascal Flatts.

I can take the rain on the roof of this house, that don't bother me.

I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out.

I sat down on the grass, and fell back. I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes.

I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while, even though going on with you gone still upsets me.

There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay, but that's not what gets me.

What hurts the most, was being so close, and having so much to say, and just watching you walk away.

I heard footsteps coming closer to me, but I ignored them. The people would probably just pass me, as if I wasn't event there. It's not like it's that hard to not notice me, because I was so quiet and desolate.

Sadly, the half-bloods who had taken a stroll weren't going to ignore me. In fact, they were looking for me.

"Oi, Olding!"

I opened my eyes, ripped out my headphones, and sat up angrily

"What do you-"My eyes went wide. I couldn't speak. I didn't want to, because I feared my mouth would betray me, and I would surely get pummelled.

It was my worst enemy. 18-year-old, I-can-do-anything-include-beat-the-living-shit-out-of-you, Andra Keen. She was a daughter of Hecate, but I was starting to think that she's really a daughter of Ares. In a few ways, she reminded me of Clarisse.

Except for the fact that Andra scared me more, and was far more hostile towards me. I started thinking about running for my life. There was one problem though. Andra and her little minions were faster than me.

"Gettin' a little twitchy there, aren't you, shorty?" her twin brother, Ajax, taunted.

I glared at him. He wasn't as strong or smart as Andra. He probably had an IQ that's equivalent to that of a rock. I must say, that's very insulting. Not to Ajax, but to the rock. He was right though. Damn my stupid nerves, I thought. They were making me sweat, and I was starting to twitch.

Andra approached me, wearing a cruel smile. "What should we do to you today, huh? Maybe we should beat you to the pulp..." she debated with herself. "Or, we could just humiliate you by throwing you into the lake."

I'm sure that my face lost its entire colour. Normally, I'm tan, but at the moment, I was probably looking much more albino.

"Please don't." Pathetic! That was all I had to say?

Andra and her buff group were now starting to close in on me. I felt tears welling up in my blue eyes, but I forced them back. Nothing would be more embarrassing than crying in front of Keen.

"Call off your dogs, Keen," a familiar voice sneered.

I apologize for any spelling, punctuation and grammar mistakes. The entire story, except for the last chapter or two will be in Erin's point of view. CC would be great.

*Gasp* a cliffy! When I have the time, I'll update.