ANDREW MORGANS (1ST PERSON)
The end of my life started right as I entered school.
Of course, I say that every time I walk the halls of Goode High, but I meant it this time. There was something lingering in the air, clinging to the soles of my boots every time they clanked against the smooth glossy brown wood, and it pissed me off to no end.
My day hadn't exactly gone off to a great start. In fact, that's pretty much an understatement- it reeked, like a cat dying in the old cellar nobody knew about. My stepbrother, Daniel, woke me up by screeching in my ear, and I gave him a small blow on the head and tried to fall back asleep- unfortunately, his face screwed up like he just ate a sour lemon, and he started wailing that I hit him, and so I had to endure Mom's scolding and Jonathon's slap on my arm; you can still see where the crest of his fingers had been, it was so red.
Jonathon's been with us for, about, five years, and every single day of my life I want to run a knife through him and stab him repeatedly until he bleeds to death, but unfortunately that would be murder, so I have to satisfy myself by listening to Lorde's Bravado really loudly up in my room. Even though it makes my eardrums feel like they're exploding, it makes me happy to hear Jonathon's screams of protests. I know that sounds super mean-hearted, but I'm making him suffer as he's suffering me- as far as I'm concerned, we're even.
Anyways, where was I? Oh, right, end of my life.
So, Mom had just dropped me off at school, and I was trudging into the hallways with small, tiny steps like I was in a funeral procession, when all of a sudden this kid decided to bump into me and make me spill all my books onto the floor.
"Oh, shoot, I'm so sorry," He gasped as he bent down to pick them up, and I glowered at his back. He lifted his head to face me, and I gasped. There were tiny little horns growing out of his curly brown hair- I swear I saw them, they were at least three inches tall. He followed my gaze and yelped as he picked up his cap from where it was sprawled on the ground.
"What was that?" I asked him, my voice too astonished for my own liking. Stupid, stupid, stupid- that was probably a trick of my imagination or something, there had to be a logical explanation for this. Sadly, I was out of anything else but the fact that there were tiny horns growing on the new kid's head.
"What was what?" He stammered, and shoved the books into my arms. He was a pretty bad liar- his face turned sweaty and red, and he bit his lip, hard, drawing a little blood.
"You're a pretty bad liar, kid," I observed. Kid? Seriously? Did I just tell the newbie who had a wispy beard growing on his chin kid?
"So I keep hearing." He mumbled under his breath. "Anyways, since, as you say, I'm a very horrible liar, let's just cut to the chase- I'm Grover the Satyr, and you're a demigod, and your English teacher is probably going to kill you today, and not because you didn't study for the last test, but because he's a monster in disguise."
I stared at Grover, raising an arched eyebrow. Did he expect me to believe he was a satyr, and that I was a debbligod or whatever the bull was called, and that my English teacher was a monster? Okay, he was right about the last one, but he was just talking like he was on drugs about the other two.
"Okay," I said, humoring him, "Homeroom comes first- let's just see if I survive the day."
As if on cue, the bell screeched, and I hurried past loony-kid and barely made it to homeroom, where I drummed my fingernails on the desk and started humming the Jaws theme song every time my teacher decided to give me the evil eye. So far, so good. I'll have to tell Grover that my teacher didn't maul me to death at lunch, I thought to myself as I dashed off to my History class.
It was taught by this scruffy old man who reminded me distinctly of Gandalf and Dumbledore, with his wizened, wrinkled face and yellow, chipped teeth. He began the lesson by screeching with his high-pitched voice about World War 2, so meanwhile I started to hum to myself as I started to play with a strand of my hair. All of a sudden, Mr. Oldie swerved around to glare at me and point his wrinkled, old finger at me.
"What part did Mussolini play in World War 2, Miss Windler?" He asked me, and gave me the stink-eye when I shrugged.
"I said, what part-"
"I know what you said, I just don't have the answer." I snapped, but wouldn't you if you were in my shoes? I was tired, and cranky, and all I wanted to do was to go home and sleep.
"We're going to have a talk outside, Miss Andrew, and show you the proper way to respond when a person is speaking to you," He snarled, curling his ugly pink mouth to reveal his brown gums, and half-dragged me outside the classroom.
"Hey, you can't do that!" I protested, and he smiled wickedly at me.
"Oh, I'll do a lot worse, demigod," He snarled. All of a sudden, his eyes gleamed red and leathery wings grew out of his back. Grover was right? Un. Freaking. Believable. Okay, next time I see Grover, I'll maul him, I made a mental note to myself, but mentally facepalmed myself when I realized the last time I saw Grover was going to be the last time I'd see any human being who was actually nice.
And then Mr. Cross-of-Old-Wizards lunged at me.
"CRAP- GROVER! GROVER!" I screamed, and put up my arms to defend myself. But it didn't sound like I needed to. A bronze knife lashed out at his throat, and it fell to the ground in dust.
I needed a cup of Jo.
When I looked up, I saw a pretty girl with curly blonde hair and flashing gray eye eyeing me, analyzing every inch of my face, my body, and my soul. Okay, I'm kidding with the last part, but it really did seem like her grey eyes just fell into my blue ones, and saw through every single thing I ever hid.
Next to her stood a pretty cute boy with black, side-swept hair, tanned skin, and sea-green eyes, smiling easily at me, his arm slung over Blondie's shoulders.
I didn't smile back.
And finally, Grover the Satyr was nervously bleating next to them, staring at me worriedly. "Oh, gods, Andrew- you almost died!" He said, his face sickly pale. I slapped him for reminding me, and he cried out in pain.
"Ouch- why did you do that?" He held his face protectively, and I smirked at him.
"Well, I didn't slap you- I high-fived your face." The sort of-kinda-maybe cute boy standing next to the badass blonde laughed.
"You've been waiting all day to use that, haven't you?" He asked me, and I shrugged, a blush rising against my cheeks.
"Yup, and Grover here can't be a more appropriate subject to test my judo kick on," I threatened, and Grover shrinked back behind Blondie.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa- let's not try to kill each other until we get to Camp Half-Blood," She said. I was about to say a snarky comment about how cliché and Harry Potter-ish that sounded when Mr. Cute made a small, squeaking sound. We followed his gaze to Mr. Gandalf, who seemed to have transported in the thin air to back where he was killed by Miss Blondie.
"Shit balls- let's get out of here while we can," I nearly screeched as he neared us, and we dashed past the monster and barely made it to the front door. Blondie pulled open the door, and we all dashed down the parking lot, where a bronze dragon was chewing on a tire.
My heart went into my mouth as he fixed his yellow-eyed gaze with a fiery yellow one, and for a moment his blazing eyes met my mossy blue ones. But then he ripped his yellow-eyed stare away from me, and humped his back so we could climb on.
"Hey, Percy- who's the hot chick?" A jokey voice asked, and a figure slid off the dragon, peering at us.
"The hot chick is going to murder you if you call her that again," I growled, folding my arms very bad-ass like. Or so I hoped.
"Fiesty- me likey!" The figure laughed as it came closer, and I gawked as a scrawny boy came into view. He was actually pretty cute, in a I-Just-Made-My-First-Mini-Airplane-from-Scratch-To day kind of way. His curly mop of brown hair rested against his forehead, showing off his warm brown eyes and barely showed his slightly pointed ears. He was sun-browned, but other than that he was actually kind of beautiful, but not in a potential Oh-my-God-I-want-to-be-with-you-forever type of way- more like a you're-going-to-be-my-future-bestie type of way.
"Name's Leo Valdez, A.K.A. Badass Supreme," He grinned, snatching my hand and putting his lips to it, and I hit him in the arm as soon as he stopped making out with it.
"Name's Andrew Morgans, A.K.A. your future murderer if you won't stop being creepy," I smiled, and he held his hands out, as if in defeat.
"Okay, but does creepy include being awesome every second of my life, because if so, I'm screwed." He grasped my hand and pulled me onto the dragon, and I muttered to myself about self-absorbed weirdos as I took a seat on the bronze dragon's back.
Okay, my fellow oddities, I admit I can do a lot better than that, but in the next chapter there's going to be some intimate stuff- family-related, I mean. Drew is going to meet her dad, the jack-of-all-trades. Anyways, PLEASE review, and I'm expecting a full-fledged report on your opinion of this!
-Sarcastic Clapping, A.K.A. Queen Awesome of Epic Proportions, A.K.A. Lyricalyrics A.K.A. Potterhead Enthusiast, A.K.A. Proud RavenPuff (Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, study on your Potterhead facts, people!), A.K.A. Mayor of Wackspurts and Head Chief of S.P.E.W., A.K.A. pure brilliance reincarnated into one divine form, A.K.A. President of the Sirius Black Fan Club, A.K.A. The girl with a thousand names but usually known as the way someone puts their hands together repeatedly in a snarky way