"But father," I whined, "why do we have to do this?"

"Hush, Annabeth. This is for our own good."

I huffed. We were packing to go into hiding- and packing very little, I should say. The Romans (yes, the Romans) were invading our homeland, Greece. They were specifically hunting people who have associated with the gods in any way. Why they would do it, I have no clue (and yes, I did indeed admit that I had no clue). A lot of people don't care much about it, since they have had no contact with the gods. But we are some of the unlucky ones. Father had an affair with a goddess twelve years ago. Just last night, we found out who it was. A glowing blue owl had appeared above my head last night, and we immediately knew it was unsafe for all of us.

Yep, my mother is Athena. How nice.

Honestly, I really want to meet this newfound mother of mine. But unfortunately, that dream may as well never be fulfilled.

I hoisted my single bag onto my bulky shoulder (we had to put on multiple clothes as to not look suspicious. I don't see how we won't look suspicious, wearing layers of clothes in the middle of summer). Then I joined my "family" outside the house.

It was an hour past midnight, and there was barely any activity around. My mother- stepmother, actually- noticed me and smiled warmly. Usually she doesn't do that (she doesn't like me very much), but thankfully, she understands the situation well enough that she comforts all of us, freak or not. The 6-year-old twins, Bobby and Matthew, ran towards me and hugged me gleefully. I don't see how they could be joyful in this situation, but they are.

One of them- Bobby? Matthew? I can't tell them apart- asked, "Annie? You're happy, right?"

Tears pricked my eyes as I nodded, smiling. They loved me and I loved them more than anything in the world, even if they are my stepbrothers. They always comfort me whenever I'm feeling sad, although I realize that it's supposed to be the opposite- me comforting them. But even though their mother dislikes me, we are each others' dearest.

"Come on, Annie," said the other twin, pulling at my clothes. I laughed at the name. I usually hate people calling me that, but if it's Bobby or Matthew, I don't mind at all.

After walking for a while, we finally reached our destination- a small building. We would be staying in the building until the war is over, which, hopefully, will be soon.

Father walked up to the door and knocked on it quickly and silently. Almost immediately, there was an answer. The door opened and revealed someone very familiar.

"Annabeth, you remember Mr. Luke Castellan, right?" Father asked. I nodded, blushing. I looked up at the nineteen-year-old that I once saw as my hero, remembering all the fun times we'd had as children. We played together, ate together, and once even ran away from home together. Now that I look upon him again after a long time, the memories leave a fresh scar. It pains so much knowing that these events didn't happen with just us two; the third is long gone. She is supposed to be here with us, but something took her life.

Tears formed in my eyes again as we were led inside, the door closing quietly behind us. After we were all safely inside, I turned and hugged Luke. He hugged me back, and we stayed there quietly for a moment until my stepmother cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"Ah, yes," Luke said, letting go of me. "Would any of you like anything to eat? To drink?"

I took water and the twins took juice. As we were drinking, Father said, "Annabeth, do you know the Blofises? We will be staying here with them."

I frowned, but stepmother said, "Oh yes, I think I remember them! Good people, they are."

"Well, we'd better get upstairs. It's going to get light soon, and I think we should get settled. Better safe than sorry."

"Well said, Mr. Chase."

As Luke led us upstairs, he said to me, "You know, Mrs. Blofis has a son named Percy Jackson. I'm sure you'll get along well, but Percy can sometimes be a little... well. you'll see."

I want to know more about this Jackson character, I decided.

Father opened the door at the top of the stairs and I found myself face-to-face with a mop of messy black hair and sea green eyes.

Author's Note: Guess what this story is based off of? Anne Frank and the Holocaust! Story idea credit goes to: twinsarekeepers