Authors Note:
Hello all! This is my first book, and I really hope you enjoy it :) Leave me a comment, if you will!
Disclaimer: Please. Do you honestly think I own Percy Jackson and the Olympians?
Chapter 1
I guess I believed everyone had a story, that we all have stories, but I guess I didn't believe mine was important. I was me – fourteen, brunette, wild hair, green eyed, freckled, short, petite. Sophia. A girl who lived on the beach front so her father could study marine life, and her mother could run her small tourist shell shop. I guess I figured my life was what it was. School during the school year, surfing and reading during the summer. I didn't think it would change.
The summer I was thirteen, everything was perfect. We lived in a small beach front house, we being me and my adoptive family of eight. My adoptive parents, my sister Lydia, and brothers Elijah, Jacob, George, Samuel, Aiden, and me. Lydia being eighteen, Elijah being sixteen almost seventeen, Jacob and George (twins) were fifteen, Samuel was eight and Aiden, who had Down syndrome was four. My parents had quite the spread. Anyway.
During that particular summer, I was teaching Samuel to surf, and the twins were teaching me different stunts they'd picked up from Elijah, who loved surfing more than life itself. But also, life had gotten a little weirder that summer. Maybe it began with the lifeguard who had one eye…maybe it started with that odd swimmer lady who'd tried to pull me under, claiming to be trying to 'save me'. Maybe it was the shadows I'd been seeing at night a lot. Shadows that followed me. Who knows. Not I! But one day that summer, my world was picked up, shook vigorously, then set back upside down. It started one windy afternoon on our front porch.
I was sitting in the light of the setting sun, my wildly curly brown hair drying (and flying) in the wind. My skin was tan, and my freckles more proficient than usual, and I was wonderfully happy. I was twisting the several braided bracelets around my wrists, remembering the stories behind each one, when Samuel bounded up to me and proclaimed,
"Mom and Dad need you right now! They say to hurry, okay?" I scrunched my nose with distaste.
"But it's so nice!" I got up reluctantly and followed my younger brother inside. My parents were seated at the dining table, my dad holding dark-red haired Aiden in his lap, flanked by Lydia and Elijah, both concerned. Lydia, a queenly figure of a beautiful girl, was perfect. Despite living at the beach, she was pale, with a tint of red on her shoulders and defined cheekbones. Her dark red hair caught in a braid, her long thin legs crossed across her chair. Her hazel eyes filled with pity for me – an awkward girl yet. Elijah, quiet to strangers, insane to his friends, ran a hand through his messy dark hair anxiously, and gestured for me to sit with him.
"Come here, 'Phia," he invited. I sat down cautiously. Mom turned back to Samuel.
"Go find the twins. If they're in the ocean, don't go in, just call to them. Hurry." She smiled at me, but the smile was fake. My adopted mother, so calm, was pretty, but having seven kids had worn her, and years hadn't been kind. Worry was laced across her eyes. Samuel, Jacob, and George tramped in, sandy, and the twins wet. Jacob and George were identical, with my father's red hair and my mom's hazel eyes, and freckles and sunburn from lots of time on the beach. The whole family was seated, and my dad cleared his throat.
"Guys, we have some news," he said sadly. I squirmed. "But first, let's talk about 'Phia." I raised an eyebrow.
"Why exactly are we talking about me?" I asked uncomfortably, tossing my curls from my face, and scanning Elijah for signs. Elijah glanced down, sensing my stare.
"Just listen to what we have to say, sweetie," Mom said gently, laying a hand on my arm.
"Sophia," my dad went on, using full name, to which the twins snickered and elbowed each other, Dad struck them with a cross stare, and they went quiet. "Even though Sophia was adopted, we all know how un-adopted she is. She's as much a part of our family as Lydia, or Elijah, or George, or Jacob, or Samuel, or Aiden." I smiled. "But she doesn't have the same birth parents. Today the orphanage called, and told us her parents contacted them, and her parents want to meet their daughter." My eyes widened, and I stood up quickly.
"What?!" I shouted, "They've contacted— no! I don't want to meet them!" Elijah gently pulled me down and stroked my hair.
"Hey, 'Phia, I know you really hate your parents, but-" Jacob began, only to be cut off by Lydia.
"Shut up, Jacob. You're aren't helping anything! Look, 'Phia," But George interrupted her.
"I beg they're great! Give them a chance!" He said cheerfully, elbowing me.
"No," I snarled sulkily. "If they were great, they wouldn't have left me at a freakin' orphanage. They would've kept me and loved me." I winced at how insensitive my own words sounded to my adopted parents. "I mean, I'm glad I was adopted though, I love you guys," I added, my tone softening and anger melting a little. "I guess I'm just…scared." My mom smiled kindly, and took my hand across the table.
"It's alright dear, we understand. But it's not like they're taking you away from us anyway, they just want to meet you."
"Well, when are they coming then?" I asked. Mom glanced at the clock.
"In about two hours," She announced, stood, and began to clean the kitchen. I stood, stunned, and rushed to my bedroom.