Chapter One: Nothing Interesting Ever Happens To Me
Look, I didn't want to be a mortal.
If you're reading this because you are too-I pity you. I pity you almost as much as I pity myself. You get to live in blissful ignorance of the true world you live in. I live in the mortal world but I am a mortal with knowledge; I have the sight, so does my Mom. I am cursed to live my mortal boring life tortured by knowing about the true nature of this world without being able to actually do anything! At least you normal people get to live without knowing what you're missing.
But on the off chance you actually are one of the lucky ones who get to live in the real world, well I envy you. Demigod, immortal, oracle, satyr, faun, nymph, naiad, centaur or whatever you might be-it doesn't matter-I really and truly envy you. You have no idea how far I would go or what I would do to be like you. Yet.
I never asked to be born plain and uninteresting. If you ask my parents they will say that I'm not plain-I'm not uninteresting (for all of you who don't know what uninteresting means well then maybe this isn't the right book for you. Just a heads up I like to use big words). But they are my parents so they are obligated to say that. Which basically means that I can discard their opinion-perhaps I could throw it out my bedroom window. Sigh. But no that would just might be a little too much rudeness even for Mom. Plus I just couldn't stand to see either of my parents upset with me like that-they are without a doubt, the best parents in history.
Oh, where are my manners. A little background info on me-my name is Spero but my friends just call me Spes. Also I am a mortal who lives with other mortals-well two to be exact. My mom who's a novelist and my dad who is a cool (but not as cool as my mom) teacher. I mentioned earlier that my friends called me Spes but that wasn't exactly vrai. Vrai means true in French-by the way. See I don't actually have friends besides my parents. It might seem a little well dorky but my parents really are my only friends.
I have waist length dark-camel hair I trap in any kind of artist do with side-bangs just barely covering the top of my left eye. That generally means anything ranging from two small braids on one side of my head to a messy bun. My eyes are a burnt auburn color framed by very thin short eyelashes. My eyebrows are too blonde and too bushy to fit my face and I have an olive tone complexion. I'm also happen to be 5'2''. What a great combination. Oh and I'm fourteen years old. Almost fifteen. My birthday is September 23rd, it's two months away, I'm counting.
Fortunately I'm on summer vacation right now so no school. Unfortunately that also means that some people who really mean an enormous amount to me aren't around and worse I have no idea if they are actually at camp or somewhere that puts them in danger. To be fair they are half-bloods so danger follows them like a bloodhound. It drives me absolutely insane not knowing what they are doing. But somehow the uncertainty doesn't visibly affect either of my parents. Which makes it even more annoying.
"Spes?" My Mom voice rang out from the kitchen, the screen door closing behind her. "You home?"
I swiveled out of my chair, closing my miniature laptop. "Yeah, I'm here."
"Can you come help me with the groceries, angel?" Something sounding suspiciously like lettuce crashed to the ground.
"Coming!" I yelled hurriedly walking to try and rescue my Mom from the avalanche of fresh produce. Oh yeah. My Mom's name is Sally Jackson, when she married my Dad she kept her maiden name because she went though a lot with that name and changing it after all that just wasn't an option.
My Mom was balancing on one foot with five bags of groceries in her arms, her other leg bent up to help her catch a loose bag. There was a brown paper bag identical to the ones in my Mom's arms laying on its side on our kitchen floor, its contents strewn about. A head of iceberg lettuce (the source of the crash I heard) was lying a few feet away from the bag all smashed up. I quickly wrestled two bags of food out of my Mom's iron grip allowing her to relax her pose and put the others on the counter next to the two I had. She slid her hands together like she was trying to dust off some unseen dirt, then knelt down to pick up the spilled bag. Sighing I knelt down next to her, the worn green tiles sending a shiver up my thighs.
When we were done Mom took one long look at me and offered to make me her special blue chocolate chip cookies. I instantly agreed, you would have to be a critically insane mental patient to turn down one of my mom's famous homemade blue chocolate chip cookies. It was such a mom-thing to do, to take one look at me and just know I had had a bad day and then to offer to make me blue cookies to fix it. We would talk about her day, crack jokes, and then when I started to feel better she would ask me about my day and I would tell her. The crazy thing is I would always feel better after that.
I couldn't help but smile. My Mom was the best person in the world.
About five minutes after the first plate of blue chocolate chip cookies was demolished the door opened again this time allowing in my Dad's smiling face. Both my parents had salt and pepper hair but they were far from old. Oh, and my Dad's name is Paul, Paul Blofis. So that's me, Spero Blofis. I'm sure you've heard of my big brother-his name is Perseus Jackson.