hi random reader! omg omg omg i am so excited to write this whole story out. i have so many ideas for this story you guys don't even know. i'm sorry if this resembles any other fic because i tried SO DEARLY to make sure it didn't. who is crazy enough to write fics about sally and paul's daughter? if you're not too into oc's, percy, annabeth, and the rest of the seven will take a big part in this story - don't fret!

i don't own pjo or hoo i only own my ocs!

*ocs screaming/fighting in background*

well, it's a dysfunctional family. but maybe not as dysfunctional as the olympians.

anyways, let's get on with the story!

Mara's P.O.V.

"What have you done, Mara?" the headmaster bellowed, all eyes now turned to me as I stood over the lifeless body on playground.

I trembled with fear at the sight of my headmaster's, Mr. Rancher's, expression. My fingers tingled with leftover power, or maybe they just went numb after hanging limp by my side for so long. I remembered what my mom had once told me - to stay out of the headmaster's way, because he doesn't like people like me. At the time, I had no idea what she meant. Now, after witnessing something first hand I never knew nor thought I could do, I wondered if her words had a deeper meaning. "I - um," I started, but I my words of apology got stuck in my throat. How could Mr. Rancher accept my apology for killing a classmate?

Mr. Rancher pointed his long finger at me in fury, and his voice rose to a scream. "I knew you were no good when I first saw you here at this school! Out!" he cried, his eyes tearing up. "Get out!"

I ran as fast as my little legs could take me past the old playground and the overgrown basketball court. As I darted around the beaten down school, I tripped, sending my knees down into the hard concrete sidewalk of New York City streets. I screamed on impact, mostly just to get it out of my system. In comparison to the scene on the playground, my bloody knees were as insignificant as a pimple on my face. Sobbing at my own misfortune, I leaned against the jagged brick wall of the school and replayed the past events in my head.

Maurice was our school bully. Her hobbies included shoving kids into the puddles under the swings and stealing the quiet kid's lunch money. But most of all, Maurice loved to push me around. Every recess, she would tease me about my grades and start rumors about my family life. Her posse would laugh and point fingers at me, then they would go sit under the slide and plot how they were going to bully people the next day of the week. The ongoing process left me a nervous wreck and with no confidence in my abilities. If I managed to do something right for once in my life, Maurice would somehow manage to ruin the memory. She pushed me around like I had no meaning, no purpose in this world. And today I had had enough of her games. Today I was going to stand up for myself, and no one was going to stop me.

I stood on my wobbly feet, nervous to perform what I had planned, in front of Maurice. As she had approached me by the swings, I put my game face on that I practiced in my bathroom mirror for a week. "Don't you dare touch me. I'm not your personal punching bag, and neither are my emotions."

Maurice laughed at me, and, right on cue, so did her posse of other pretty girls. "What makes you think you have any right to speak to me like that, blowfish?" Maurice's eyes narrowed and she gave me a knowing smirk. "Is it because your precious mommy went and got herself cancer? So now you feel like you're responsible because it's your job to help her? Like you could ever help a person. All you ever do is ruin everything for everyone, you know that?" She paused. "Now, why don't you go run back to your mommy - unless she finally realized what she and your family should have gone and done years ago - die."

Maurice's posse giggled, shouting horrible things like "Burn!" and "You heard her, why don't you dig a hole in the ground and lay in it forever!"

My hair stood on end and my throat closed in. She had gone too far this time. My senses blurred, and my eyes became splotchy. I don't remember much, but I threw my body at her in pure absolute rage, and suddenly, the ground started shaking. My gut tugged in weird, but I was glad that the world was shaking. So was my head, my brain. The more the ground shook, the more I grinned crazily. It felt like there was a spotlight on me, a ray of sun, my moment of glory. Then suddenly, I started to feel dizzy, and I willed for the ground to stop shaking. That was when the world became clear again, and I saw Maurice, slumped on the ground with her neck at an unnatural angle. Her head was bleeding dark blood, and her eyes were wide and empty of emotion. Suddenly it fell over me - she was dead. Something deep inside me laughed. It's what she deserved for picking on me. She had every right to die before my eyes. I only wished I could have seen her cry - beg for my mercy.

The first person on the playground to recover from their shock shoved me away like Maurice would always do, and ran to her dead body. Something flared up inside of me again - she didn't deserve saving, love, or a funeral. She made everyone's lives hell.

Even though my resentful thoughts toward Maurice continued, I couldn't help but wonder how the ground shook like an earthquake. Maybe I was hallucinating. If I would wake up covered with sweat, relieved that it was only a dream. Maybe an actual earthquake had happened, but then again, New York never gets earthquakes, and I felt like I was controlling it. God, was I really controlling an earthquake? It had to be a bad dream. Then, I stared into Maurice's empty eyes, and knew that this was definitely a nightmare, but a very real nightmare.

Looking at the busy New York City street, I shook my head, terrified of myself. How could I think such dark thoughts at eight years old? What if my dying mother heard me say such terrible things? What would she think of me then, especially if I was wishing death upon another person? My mother is on the edge of life and death every day.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when I noticed a man standing still across the street, while the rest of the pedestrians walked around him. He was facing the road beside him. Our eyes locked, and unexpectedly, he gave me a lopsided grin. I narrowed my eyes at this strange man, wondering why he was looking at me. I was a nobody, Maurice sure drilled that into my head. My mother had cancer. My father worked long hours to make up for the loss of her job as a journalist. I was an excelling gymnast until money ran short and I had to come up with my own ways to strengthen myself and improve at home. I have no association with this strange man with dark hair dressed like a twenty five year old.

My heart skipped a beat as the man suddenly started to cross the street. The cars were honking at him as they were forced to stop, but his gaze never left mine. I froze, scared that he was coming to kidnap me. I was trembling by the time he stepped onto the sidewalk in front of me. He was a lot taller than I had estimated by his figure across the street.

"What do you want?" I croaked out, my voice starting to fail me. I was trying to sound stronger than I was, like normal, but this man looked intimidating. He had a lot of muscle, and I could tell he had been through terrible times by the way he slightly limped and the pain riddled in his eyes.

The man took a step back. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Are you going to tell me I'm worthless? That I should go die? Because that's all anyone seems to say to me." I squeaked, breaking down in tears. Too much had happened today for my mind to comprehend, and here I was, pouring my feelings out to a total stranger.

The man's face softened, and his sea green eyes filled with sadness. I wondered why a stranger would feel so much pain for me. Then, he sat down across from me, his legs pulled into his chest.

I looked up at him, and sniffed a few times to keep myself from breaking down again.

"My name is Percy Jackson, and I'm your half brother, Mara. Now, you have to trust me. I need you to come with me somewhere you'll be safe. I have a lot of explaining to do." the man said, or rather, my brother said.

my grammar and details are not great but i'm sure the length and the writing will improve when i get to use my ideas. i'll try to upload every week because in my mind i think that this story has potential?

please review, it's my first story :)