Pelagia Jackson & the Olympians: TLT

Disclaimer: I don't own PJO, Rick Riordan does. I don't own anything.

Summary: Pelagia Jackson's life is turning into a disaster, and it all started with when her algebra teacher, Mrs. Dodds, turned into a huge, bat thing.

Hi, my name is Pelagia Jackson and I'm a demigod. Okay, so maybe the was a little straightforward and premature because the story barely started but trust me, it's better for you to know it now.

So most of you must be thinking, 'Wow, that's so cool, I wish I was one' and all that, but no. You don't want to be a demigod, not at all. If you are one and think this book is a helpful guide to the life of one, don't even read the next paragraph. Hades, you shouldn't even be reading this one. If you aren't one, great, read on. Pretend I said nothing. Though if you feel anything, though abnormal, don't start freaking out about having a mosquito bite, close the book.

And that's a great cue for me to tell you how it all started, how my life started turning into a nightmare. But hey, when you're a demigod, your life's a nightmare right when you're born.

I go to Yancy Academy, or I used to, until I got expelled. I've been expelled before, actually every single school I've ever been to I have gotten expelled from, but this one was different.

At my fifth-grade school, I went to the Saratoga battlefield from the Revolutionary war, and there were all these weapons and dangerous materials. No, no one got hurt, luckily. They had cannons there though, and I accidentally set one off and BOOOM! Let's just say that the bus driver didn't appreciate that.

At my fourth-grade school, I went to an aquarium, best field trip I ever had, by the way, and we had a behind the scenes tour with the sharks. The shark tank was pretty awesome, all different sharks and fish, but it had a lever next to it. You can't really blame me for pulling the lever, humans are naturally curious. I mean come on, it was so tempting! The lever was for scuba divers, though, and none of us had our bathing suits. Figure it out from there.

And for my third grade school…actually I don't think I need to explain anymore, you get the point.

At this one, I was determined to be well behaved and everything. We were going to the Met, Metropolitan Museum of Art, to look at ancient Greek and Roman things. I know right, sounds fascinating. But our Latin teacher, Mr. Brunner, was leading the trip, so it might not be as bad as it sounds.

Mr. Brunner was cool, though you probably wouldn't think that at first glance. He was a middle-aged man with a motorized wheelchair, thinning hair, and he always smelled like coffee. But he told jokes and stories in class, let us play games, and also had an awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons. His class was the only one that didn't make me feel as if it were nap time.

Anyway, going into the city, I had to put up with Nick Bobofit, freckled, red-haired boy, hitting my best friend, Grover, in the back of his head with his peanut-butter and ketchup sandwich, which stuck in his curly, brown hair.

No offense to Grover, but he was an easy target. He was scrawny, cried when he got frustrated, and probably held back a couple of grades because he had the start of a beard on his chin. He had a note excusing him from PE because he was crippled, but he could be fast when he wanted to. You should see him when Yancy Academy was serving enchiladas in the cafeteria, he could be in the Olympics.

Though, back on topic, I was beginning to get annoyed with Nick. Actually, scratch that, I was beginning to get even more annoyed with Nick. He knew that I wasn't allowed to say or do anything because the principal already threatened to kill me, by in-school suspension, if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining have happened.

"Oh, I am so going to murder him," I muttered.

Grover tried to get me to calm down, "Don't worry, it doesn't hurt. Besides, I like peanut butter."

"Yeah," I said, "I do too, but not in my hair!"

"I don't care," Grover said, dodging another piece of the revolting sandwich.

"Oh, I don't care if I'm on probation!" I growled, starting to stand up.

"Yes, you do," he reminded me. "Besides, it's not like the principal is fair to you."

When I think about it, I wish I would've hit Nick right then and there, but, of course, I didn't.

Mr. Brunner led the tour into the museum, his wheelchair guiding us through echoey gallerias, orange and black pottery, and massive, marble sculptures. The thing I surprised about was that these things were about two thousand, three thousand years old.

He gathered us near a thirteen-foot column with a sphinx on top, and started telling us how it was a stele, a grave marker, for a girl about our age. I tried to listen, I really did, but everyone was yapping around me and I couldn't hear a thing. Every time I even tried to tell them to shut up, the evil math teacher, Mrs. Dodds, would glare at me, as if I was doing something wrong by trying to listen to the teacher.

Mrs. Dodds was a little teacher from Georgia, who, even though she was like fifty, decided to wear a leather jacket, which matched her facial expression looking mean enough to drive a motorcycle into your locker. Halfway through the year, she arrived, when the last math teacher had a nervous breakdown. From her first day, she had loved Nick, and figured I was some girl who was a demon. And don't let her fool you with that, "Now, honey," she says real sweet because you just get detention, and for one whole month, too.

One time, after a particularly gruesome detention, making me erase math answers out of a text book until midnight, I said to Grover, "I don't think Mrs. Dodds is human," and he looked at me, not a note of playfulness in his expression of voice and said, "You're absolutely correct!"

Finally, when Nick behind me started snickering with his buddies about some dude on the stele who was naked, I snapped, "Will you just shut up already?"

The bad part was that I said it louder than I had meant it to be, the whole group laughed and Mr. Brunner paused his story, "Do you have a comment, Miss Jackson?"

"No, sir," I said, my face totally redder than Nick's hair.

Mr. Brunner pointed to a stele next to me, "Do you think, Miss Jackson, you can tell us what this is representing?"

I looked a little nervous until I saw the actual carving, thank goodness I recognized it. I wrinkled my nose a bit, "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner replied, gesturing for me to continue. "And he did this why?"

"Well," I racked my brain to remember, "Kronos was a king god…no Titan, right?"

Mr. Brunner nodded.

"And…he…uh…didn't trust his kids, who were gods. So, Kronos…uh…ate them. His wife…uh…what was her name? Reyna, no Rhea! So, his wife, Rhea, hid baby Zeus, the youngest, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. When Zeus got older, he tricked his dad"—I wrinkled my nose even more—"to throw up his siblings. And then, the gods and the Titans had a huge war and the gods won."

Behind me, I heard Nick say to his friend, "Why do we need to know this? It's not like when we're applying for a job it'll say 'Why did Kronos eat his kids?'"

"Thank you," Mr. Brunner said, "And why, to paraphrase Mr. Bobofit's brilliant question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover smirked.

"Shut up!" Nick glared, face redder than mine had been.

I ignored him, and I pondered his question for a while. Finally, I couldn't think of an answer, "I'm not sure, sir."

"Well," Mr. Brunner said disappointed, "I see. Half credit, though, Miss Jackson. Zeus did manage to have Kronos disgorge his siblings by feeding him a mixture of wine and mustard. Kronos' other children, being immortal, had been growing and living in the Titan lord's stomach; the gods then had a war with the Titans and defeated their father. They sliced their father with his own scythe and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. And while we're on that cheerful note, Mrs. Dodds, would you please lead us to lunch?"

The class left, most of the boys acting like complete idiots, which, of course, they are, save for Grover.

Speaking of Grover, he and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Miss Jackson."

"Keep going, Grover," I told him, I knew this was coming. "I'll catch up with you later." He left, leaving me with the Latin teacher.

"Yeah, sir," I said to him.

"You must learn the answer," Mr. Brunner said.

"To what?" I asked.

"The question," Mr. Brunner said.

"The Titan question?" I asked again.

"No, real life, and how your studies are relevant," Mr. Brunner replied.

"Oh," I said, "right."

"What you learn from me is crucially significant to life, and I will expect you to treat it as such," Mr. Brunner said. "I will only accept the best from you Pelagia Jackson."

I wanted to get angry; this guy pushed me too hard. Okay, he was alright when he dressed up in a suit of armor and shouted: "What ho!" challenging us to run to the board and name every single Greek and Roman person and who they worshipped. Mr. Brunner excepted me to be as good as everyone else, despite the fact I have ADHD and dyslexia and never made it above a C- in my entire life. Wait, scratch that, he didn't expect me to be as good, he expected me to be better, and I couldn't learn all the names and facts and spell them correctly.

"I'll try harder, Mr. Brunner," I said.

Mr. Brunner looked at the stele of the girl before he said, "Go eat your lunch, Pelagia."

The class was on the front steps of the museum. Overhead, a storm was brewing, clouds turning darker and darker. Maybe it was global warming or whatever, the weather had been acting weird since Christmas.

Nobody else seemed to notice, or most likely cared, about the weather. Some of the boys were pelting these poor pigeons with crackers. Nick was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing. Just a normal Yancy field trip.

"Over here," a voice called and I turned to see Grover, sitting at the edge of a fountain.

"Don't want to be seen with this freak school?" I asked grinning, he was quite predictable.

Grover shrugged in response and I laughed.

"Don't blame you," I said, "Wouldn't want to be seen like I know them."

"So did you get detention?" Grover asked, changing the subject.

"Nope," I said. "But I wish he would just lay off of me, I'm far from a genius."

I watched the cabs driving past Fifth Avenue and thought of my mom; she lived a little uptown from here. I wish I could just call a taxi and go home. She'd be happy to see me, but then she'd tell me that I'd have to go back Yancy.

I was about to eat my sandwich when Nick and appeared in front of me with his stupid friends. He dumped his lunch on Grover's head.

"Whoa, sorry, it just slipped," Nick said, looking at the Grover with a small smile.

Stay calm, stay calm. Deep breaths. Count to ten. 1…2…3…4

I don't remember if I got to ten, because the whole next scene was blank to me and the next thing I remember is Nick in the fountain. "Pelagia pushed me!" he screamed. I saw him smirk when Mrs. Dodds came over to help him out.

I heard some whispering behind me from some kids: "—Look what happened to Nick—"

"—whoa, did you see that—"

"—that's sick, the water just like grabbed him—"

I seriously had no idea what they were talking about; all I knew was that I was in a lot of trouble.

Mrs. Dodds insisted on getting Nick a new shirt to be nice and blah, blah, blah. After a while, though, she turned to me and there was some type of triumphant fire in her eyes. "Now, honey—"

"I know, I know. A month erasing textbooks," I grumbled.

That apparently wasn't the right thing to say.

She glared at me, "Come with me."

"Wait!" Grover yelled. "It was me, I pushed him."

I stared at him in shock. Grover was terrified of Mrs. Dodds.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," Mrs. Dodds told him.

"No—"

"Mr. Underwood, you will stay here!"

"It's okay," I said to Grover. "Thanks for trying, though."

Nick grinned and I glared at him.

I turned to face Mrs. Dodds but she wasn't next to me. I saw her at the museum entrance, watching me impatiently.

What? How did she get there so fast?

Moments like that happen a lot, where a puzzle piece in time falls out and I miss things. The school counselor said it was a part of my ADHD, I misinterpret things.

This time, though, I wasn't sure.

I followed Mrs. Dodds.

When I was about halfway up the steps, I looked at Grover. He looked pale and panicking. Grover kept looking from Mr. Brunner to me, as if he wanted Mr. Brunner to interfere or something. Mr. Brunner, however, was too involved in his novel to notice anything.

When I looked back up, Mrs. Dodds was gone. She was now inside of the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

So she's going to make me buy Nick a new shirt.

I was wrong.

I trailed behind her deeper into the museum. We stopped at the Greek and Roman gallery, where Mrs. Dodds had her arms crossed in front of a marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making a noise, too. She was growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. Being alone with a teacher is awkward, but being alone with Mrs. Dodds is just plain creepy. It didn't help that she was looking at the decoration like she wanted to tear it apart.

"We've been having problems with you, Miss Jackson," she said.

Deciding not to take any risks, I said, "Sorry, ma'am."

She tugged on her cuffs of her jacket, "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

Her eyes stared at me, but wasn't mad. It wasn't even furious. It was evil.

Whoa there, Jackson. She's not going to hurt you. She's a teacher.

"I'll try harder," I said.

Thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Pelagia Jackson," she said. "Confess and the consequences will be less horrific."

What the heck was she talking about?

Maybe they found out about the candy I have been selling out of my dorm. Or maybe they found out about how I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet and never read the book. Were they going to take my grade away? Or worse, make me read the book?

"Well?" Mrs. Dodds demanded.

"I don't know…" I started but she cut me off.

"Your time is up!" she snarled.

The weirdest thing then happened. Her eyes began to glow, her fingers stretched into talons, her jacket turned into black, leathery wings, and she grew fangs. She wasn't a teacher; she was some demon with wings, claws, and a mouth full of fangs and she was about to slice me to shreds.

You think things couldn't get even weirder? You're wrong.

Mr. Brunner, who had been in front of the museum like a second ago, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery. He had a pen in his hands, too.

"What ho, Pelagia!" he shouted, tossing the pen in the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunged at me, her claws in front of her.

With a scream, I dodged and caught the pen. It wasn't a pen, though. It was a sword—Mr. Brunner's sword he always used on tournament days.

Mrs. Dodds spun and glared at me with a murderous look in her eyes.

I was shaking so badly I almost dropped the sword.

"Die, honey!" she snarled and flew straight at me.

I was terrified and I only had one option: I swung the sword.

The blade hit her in the shoulder and passed clean through her as if she was made of water. HISS!

Mrs. Dodds exploded into what looked sand, leaving nothing but a dying screech and chill of evil in the air, like those two demon red eyes were still watching me.

I was alone.

There was a ballpoint pen in the air but Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody but me.

I was shaking. I'm going crazy, I should be on medication. There's something wrong with me.

When I went back outside, it was raining. Grover was still sitting by the fountain, but he had a museum map over his head, as if that would shield him from the rain. Nick was standing near his cronies, grumbling to them. He was even more soaked from the rain, as if he just jumped in a pool in his clothes.

He saw me and glared at me, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt, you deserve it."

Mrs. Kerr? "Who's Mrs. Kerr?"

"Our teacher, idiot," Nick said. I probably looked confused because he rolled his eyes and turned away, he went back to chatted with his friends.

I walked over to Grover, "Where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He hesitated but at last replied, "Who?"

He was messing with me.

"This isn't funny, dude," I said. "This is serious."

I walked over to Mr. Brunner, who was reading his novel as if he never moved.

"That would be my pen, Miss Jackson. Thank you for returning it, but in the future would you please bring your own writing utensil?" he said.

I gave Mr. Brunner his pen, which I forgot I was holding.

"Where's Mrs. Dodds?" I asked.

He stared at me blankly, "Who?"

"Mrs. Dodds, sir. The pre-algebra teacher," I replied.

He sat forward looking concerned, "Pelagia, there is no Mrs. Dodds. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are sure you're alright?"

That's the first chapter, hope you guys enjoyed!

-Fae51