A/N: This is a Fem!Percy X Annabeth story, if you see this on Quotev under the name Superwoman then it's mine, if it's under the name somewhere else please tell me.

Description:

Percy Jackson, a name that all have known and love.

How about if we twist his story a bit, and made him a girl?

Percy Jackson had never hated the world more then she did now—after learning Sally Jackson isn't her birth mother and she was born a god, that's the least of her worries now—she's the prime suspect of stealing Zeus' master bolt.

Bring her friends along, the daughter of Poseidon and Artemis has to go through tough stages of her life—betrayal and a new home.

Along the way, she soon realizes she needs to fix the bond of her father and mother who left her with a mortal who could see through the mist very clearly.

Percy Jackson knows how this adventure is going to be—hell is going to take over.

Being a half blood sucks.

Trust me.

If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life.

Being a half-blood is extremely dangerous—danger that you, mortal, wouldn't understand. Also, if can get you killed in a nasty, painful and did I mention nasty?, ways.

If you're a normal kid reading this because you think it's fantasy, how much I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.
How I wish I was a mortal.

Even if this advice might not help (I'll be honest here, I don't give out the best advice out there) but I'll tell you anyway. If you feel a tingly sensation going on, stop reading immediately. You might be one of us—and if you discover you are one of us, it would be a matter of time before they know too.

Dont say I didn't warn you.

Now that I'm done explaining and being so dramatic, let the introductions up in her.
My name is Percy Jackson, real name Perseus Achilles Jackson—I think the docoters mistaken me as a boy even though I don't have…the things down in the bottom.

I'm twelve years old, and until a few months ago I was going to a boarding school called Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids.

Am I a troubled kid?

You would be insane to say no.

I can start anywhere at my short, miserable life to prove it to ya, but out of all the things I could've say I decided how about I write a book about my life and publish it to the world.
Ill give you a few examples about my life later.
Things started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan. Twenty eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a school bus—heading to Museum of Art to look at Ancient Greek and Roman.

I know, it sounds like torture. But like most Yancy School trip—this wasn't any different.
But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was here so I had high hopes and tried to be good.

Boy was I whenrong.

Have you ever seen the bad girl of the school try to be good?
That would be a awesome story to write about!
Oh wait…

Remember earlier when I said was I going to give you a few examples about the terrible things I did. I'm just gonna tell you some what I did on school-trips, cause if I tell you all of them, we're gonna be here for a long-long-long-long-long-LONG time.
Okay?
Okay.

My fifth grade, when we went to the Saragota Battle field, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that... Well, you get the idea.

Like I said before, I was determined to be good.

How wrong was I.

All the way into the city, I had to put up Nick Bobofit who kept throwing pieces of peanut-butter and ketchup sandwich at my friend—Grover.
Nick was…cute I guess, but had a terrible personality. When I first step into this school, he made it his goal to make me like him. He had freckles and bright red straight hair that came down into his neck, he was also short.
He always seem nice to me, but towards my friend, Grover, he was a total ass.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades, because he was the only sixth grader with acneand the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Nick kept throwing sandwich pieces at Grover's curly hair—and he knew that I wouldn't hurt him since I was threaten by the principal.
Last time he confessed his undying love for me, I was surprised that that I wasn't expelled since he couldn't walk for a week.
Wait, that sounded wrong. It's not like that dirty-minded people!

"I'm going to kill him." I muttered under my breath as I clenched my hands against my lap. I breathed threw my noise heavily, and a growl erupted from my throat.
No one messies with Percy Jackson nor her friends. I haven't met anybody who got out of a fight with me unscratched.

Grover saw my anger towards the red-headed boy and immediately tried to calm me down. "It's okay, I like peanut-better."

"With ketchup?" I asked with disgust laced in my voice, I hated peanut-better, I wasn't allergic, I just loathed the taste of them, and ketchup.
I hate ketchup.

Another piece flew by me, and it was enough to set me off. "That's it," I literally growled, I would've thought it was a wild animal if I didn't feel my throat vibrate.
He pulled me down by the scruff of my jacket collar, "you're already on probation." He reminded me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

I wish I decked him earlier.

Time Skip to the fight

I was about to unwrap my lunch when Nick Bobofit appeared in front of him with his gang behind him. He dumped the rest of his lunch on Grover, and smiled with his crooked teeth "oops".

I tried to stay calm, the school counselor told me about hundred times: take a deep breath and count to ten.
But I'll never stay calm if you make a fool out of my friends.
I don't remember pushing him, but the next thing you know he's in the water fountain crying and yelled "Percy pushed me!".
He'll even blame me, his crush, to himself out of trouble.
What an asshole.

Ms. Dodds came stalking towards us, and once she made sure poor Nick was alright she glared at me. I ignored the whispers, but two caught my attention.
The water grabbed him.

Did you see her eyes glow silver?

She pointed her crooked finger at me, "Now honey—"

I glared harshly at her, and it made me feel somehow better when she flinched. "I know," I admitted defeat as she was the evil teacher I hated. "A month erasing workbooks."
That wasn't the right thing to say.

Her expression visibly said she was irritated. Even when Grover tried to convince her, she wasn't having any of it.
I was deep in thought, but I notice she was already waiting at the doors for. How did she get up there so fast? It didn't matter now.

Halfway up the stairs, I glanced back at Grover to make sure he was okay, but he didn't notice it, he kept looking at Mr. Brunner and me, like he wanted to notice that I was following Ms. Dodds.
He was to into his novel to notice though.

I sent him a crooked smile, but then glared at Nick as he mouthed sorry towards me. I still don't like him, he had a nasty personality even though he does sweet things to me. He doesn't treat my friend(s) with respect, he can forget about it.

I disappeared in the museum, following Ms. Dodds.

Maybe she's gonna make me by a new shirt for Nick?
That obviously wasn't the plan.

When I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery was empty.

Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

"You've been giving us problems honey," she said. I was about to make a snarky comeback, but held my tongue back. I didn't feel safe around her, at all.
I did the safe thing and replied with a "yes ma'am."

She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket, "did you really think you could get away with it?"
The look in her eyes was beyond evil, madness.

Beads of sweat started forming at the crown of my head as my hands slightly shook, I was nervous. She's a teacher, I thought nervously. She's not gonna hurt me.

I was wrong.

"I-I'll try harder ma'am." I didn't exactly know why I was nervous, something just screamed at me to run away from her.
I wished I listen.

Thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Perseus Achilles Jackson," she growled. "It was only a matter of time we find you out—confess and you will suffer less pain."

I had no clue what she was talking about.

All I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" She demanded.

"Ma'am I don't—"

"Your time is up." She hissed at me, I swear—she is secretly a snake!

Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger, I know—I was surprised too if things got even more stranger then that. Likewise, I was proven wrong.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.

Ms. Dodds thought that very moment was the best to lung at me. What did she do?

She lunged at me.

With a yelp, I dodged and felt With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.

She snarled, "Die, honey!"

And she flew straight at me.

Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword. (Still wondering till this day if that's natural).

Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.

I was alone.

There was a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but me.

My hands were still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I went back outside.

It was pouring.

Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nick Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from his swim in the fountain, grumbling to his ugly friends. When he saw me, he said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

"Who?" I asked.

"Our teacher!" He was definitely a bipolar.

I blinked, and for the first time, asked Nick if he was okay—then immediately added, "gotta make sure you're not going down the path Harley Quinn took."

He glared at me and resumed talking to his friends.

I walked over to Grover and asked the same question. I had to make sure I didn't killed our math teacher and was seeing things, but if you have Grover as a friend, even if you're a stranger to him—you'll know that he isn't the best liar in the world.
"Who?" He said, but he paused at first, like he was thinking of it. He hesitated.

"Not funny, man," I told him. "This is serious."

Thunder boomed overhead.

I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book, as if he'd never moved.

I went over to him.

He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Ms. Jackson."

I handed Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stared at me blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"