A.N.: Are you guys glad I'm alive?! Please check out my profile if you wanna know how my stories are going.

The undertone of the story is quite personal to me but the plot is completely fictional. I have a problem with Nerdy Annabeth or Popular Annabeth in FanFiction world. The Annabeth I have always related to - the one I got to know in the books - are surely neither. She is prideful, aggressive and intimidating. She always has a plan. She leads a stressful life, not only because the events of her teenage years suck (absent/goddess mother, missing boyfriend, busy huntress best friend, newbie quest-mates, war strategising, ship-building, architect of Olympus, a whole camp who looks up to her), but she is a perfectionist in a sense where she has to solve everything by herself for it to be right and it has to be done right or else everyone dies. This story is the reimagined life of Annabeth without the whole demigod complication - she's a mortal dedicated in learning while facing some learning difficulties (ADHD dyslexia). She might sound a little Percy, but she's much more straightforward.

I do hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Characters originate from Rick Riordan.

CHAPTER 1
A SENIOR'S THOUGHTS

"Look, Annabeth. You may be this school's star student, but you have a problem."

I already know where Mr. Brunner's lecture is going like the back of my hand. As my favourite history teacher and counsellor since Freshman year, I'm sure he means well. I know he does. But sometimes I wish that people could understand that it's not easy to have people expect so much of you. It's not easy having yourself expect so much out of you either.

I watched Mr. Brunner pace in his small office while I sit in the beanbag chair before him. He called me up during lunch time with a serious look in his eyes, which I really shouldn't refuse. My back's straight and my chin's up - it's all I have of my pride ever since I got kicked out of this one class. It happened a couple of lessons before lunch period. Minor disagreement, that's all. You see, my temper hasn't been very tame lately because I have been confused. It's not pretty when I start acting up. I got this e-mail last week...

"You are a well-rounded student who impresses every teacher from every department, from mathematics to PE. You are a committed varsity athlete. You are head of the arts committee in the Student Council. You're improving at an alarming rate after pushing yourself to take AP English despite your dyslexia." He finally made eye contact with me and I tried not to lose the staring game. I refuse to feel ashamed. "I've been so proud of you, you have no idea. With that ungodly scene you made in Room 33, you have greatly disappointed me."

He broke our eye contact before I got to do it first. Yes, I felt humiliated for getting into trouble within the first month of Senior Year, but I'm not even sorry. I have been so stressed about my academics, family and future that I'm turning apathetic about life. I've been eating at odd times to avoid a list of people, procrastinating homework by doing some "therapy painting", sleeping after midnight every night and forcing myself to jog every sunrise.

Uh oh. Am I being careless about my health? If only caring about myself could earn me some college credits…

"Do you have your medication? You know what, forget it. I bet those pills are still unopened, sitting in cobwebs at the back of your cupboard, behind empty cans of your hair and makeup products."

One: I don't wear makeup to school. Two: with curly hair that frizzes out of the blue, those hair products save me from the wrath of my scowling stepmother. It's getting hard to keep my composure after an insult like that.

My mental image of my scowling stepmother morphed into that of a scowling Mr. Brunner snapping his fingers in front of me. Focus. "What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?"

I choked out the only thing I've been thinking about since I discovered my mother me after I was diagnosed with ADHD and dyslexia as a mere toddler: "It's not my fault."

Mr. Brunner's eyes softened as he sighed in frustration. He took a seat behind his desk and lightly drummed his fingers on his desk. Really, he had always been so patient with people; I was actually glad he still has the capacity to get mad.

"You want me to apologise to Mr. Stevenson?" I asked.

"No," he began. "I want you to want to apologise to Mr. Stevenson. For calling him an incompetent AP Calculus teacher just because you weren't listening to him and couldn't answer his question on the spot."

I scoffed. "He's always been a lousy teach-"

"You sassed a male adult with a history of mental breakdowns in front of his own class. Then you punched the School President on the face-"

"He laughed at me!"

"-called him names with with great profanity, encouraged your classmates to do the same and taunted him that you'd do a better job as President than Obama, let alone him, even though you didn't even run for candidacy."

No regrets there.

Although after a long, uncomfortable pause, my nervous humour took control of me. "How did you even find out? Been spying on me?"

"Miss Chase, today was the first time during my years in high school that I had to have a counselling session with a colleague," he stated distastefully. "It was not pretty."

I smiled. Surprisingly, Mr. Brunner smiled back. The thing is, I view Mr. Brunner as the father I wish I had, so his opinions and feelings do matter. He tried to understand me. He was proud of me, not because I was smart, but because he saw so much potential in me. He helped me find love in athletics, he helped me manage my time and he listened. He always made time to listen.

My own father, the history professor, always jumped to conclusions and never listened. Father probably thought I cheated for my good grades because I was practically disabled in his eyes. He thought so low of me since he didn't plan on having me in the first place. Deep down, I know he can't take me seriously because he sees too much of my mother in me: the eyes, the stubbornness, the hobbies. I don't blame my father for being hopeless at moving on from my mother, but I do blame him for lacking the will to appreciate the fact that he does have a daughter who does well in school. Other parents would kill to have a kid like me - not to sound arrogant or anything.

Another thing I loved about Mr. Brunner is that he never gave up on me. "What's bothering you, Annabeth?"

I was never good at confiding in other people nor was I good at trusting. I wasn't popular but I knew lots of people. I wouldn't call them friends exactly, but necessary acquaintances. It's just that… I've never been good at the whole friendship thing. My step-family is a recurring example of someone I don't get along well but I have to deal with everyday nonetheless. There have only been only four people in the world that I have ever trusted: Mr. Brunner, Thalia, Luke and Percy. They are people I legit consider as friends. Last time I saw the latter three was the summer of last year in a camp for ADHD kids in Long Island, New York. I stopped going, after doing so since I was 7, because I was intent in getting into MIT and I was losing my game in school. So I've lost contact with them ever since, which doesn't suck that much at this point because I've always been terrible at keeping in contact.

It reminded me. Poor Percy… I remember he always hung out with me because we were always in the same team and his best friend kept ditching for some girlfriend. I must have left him hanging in camp because people always teased us together and I just had to ditch camp this year. He probably hates me. We could have dated - he was a great guy - if I weren't so focused in my school life and weren't so terrible at sustaining relationships.

"Do I get to be excused from art class?" I suggested not so innocently.

He laughed in the most polite sense. "As you wish. Would you like tea as well?"

"Maybe later."

I took a breath before explaining my sudden loss of control to Mr. Brunner. I have to remember what happened last week had to be a good thing. An opportunity to pull myself together. "I got an e-mail."

Mr. Brunner's response was to proceed typing furiously on the computer with an eyebrow raised. Keep talking, he meant.

"I haven't talked to my father about it because he'll freak… Well… So my long-lost mother wanted me to patch things up with her. Invited, to be precise. She must have known that I've always been better off doing something engineering related rather than be a historian like my father. Do you think that interests could be genetic? So, she invited me to be her intern in Olympia, Mr. Brunner. That's in Greece. Euro is expensive. But it's Olympia, Greece: her hometown, where she's always been all this time. Isn't this a little suspicious - contacting me ever since..."

My counsellor knew how to take a hint. When to stop me from faltering. "What does she do?"

"She's a landscape architect. There's this project she's taking near Mount Olympus!"

The surprise in Mr. Brunner's voice was evident. "And to think that you've always wanted to go to Greece. You're half Greek and you don't even know!"

I stole the moment to laugh at all the coincidence. The laugh didn't last long because it reminded me of how scared I actually was to meet her again after around… 10 years plus? That's crazy.

Mr. Brunner seemed to notice the worry slip through my eyes. "Are you excited?"

"Yes," I answered a little too soon. Too eagerly. Am I lying to myself or am I finally being myself? But one thing was sure: "I need to know. I need to finally understand why she left me. This is my chance."

"But when is this internship?" he asked.

Then a crazy plan hit me. It was perfect. "I want to spend a whole year with her. I think that the work experience will be good for me. And I get to take advantage of being in Greece, can you believe it?! The perfect gap year. I am absolutely convinced."

But my beloved teacher was a little skeptical about it. "You think your father will be okay with that?"

"He owes me."

"Does that mean I won't be helping you with CommonApp this year?"

His voice was tinged with sadness; I wasn't going to let that last. He had always been there for me and I can't imagine him not being there in the biggest step of my teenage years: college applications.

"You will," I assured him. "I think it's best to apply this year. It should help my dad warm up to the idea of me choosing mother over him. Also, in case I fail to run away from home again." My teacher shot me a quick glare. "Kidding. Promise. But hey, do you think they'll let me defer my year of entry?"

"You still have you heart set on MIT?"

I nodded eagerly.

"I'll have to get back to you about that," he told me. "In the mean time, I will be fine-tuning that recommendation letter for you."

I smiled at the very thought that Mr. Brunner had always had a recommendation letter ready for me. Though, after a moment filled with keyboard clicks, Mr. Brunner firmly told me: "I don't want to see your grades fluctuate like last year."

"No promises," I declared. It's the last year of varsity. I wouldn't want to lose. Besides, last year, I've been fighting with my dad about my intentions on going to MIT - he wasn't too happy about his daughter going to a school specialising in technology, making me lose interest in school academics. It was a risky boycott to get him to listen to me.

"Think of what your mother would think of you," he bargained. "Good grades will definitely convince your father. Good report grades will also convince MIT. You need your GPA to be real close to 4.0, which is less than likely because of your lack of focus last year. But you've got that 2320 on the SAT you decided to take during the summer. Good decision-making skills. Excellent initiative. Always prepared… Have I not written that in the letter?"

"Do I get a sneak peak?" I joked.

"I don't think your perfectionism can't handle me romanticising your personality flaws. It's not good for a young ego."

We laughed.

Little did I know that it would be my last proper counselling session with him. I still miss him to this day: the moment I step onto Boston ground, pulling my heavy suitcase out of the car towards my dorm, with my mother on the driver's seat. It's been two years. I wonder what he'd say to me...

Mr. Brunner always had faith in me. Now, as a college student, I have to start having faith in myself.

Read and review and thank you!

"Plot holes" will be filled as the story progresses.