Beca

"Wait stop I think this is it!" I yell, wincing as Uncle Eric slams on the brakes half a second later and I'm almost launched through the windscreen of his Volkswagen Beetle. The car is old and one of his most treasured possessions, yet he's not gentle with it. Sometimes I wonder how he managed to pass drivers ed first time.

"You sure kid?" he asks looking at me and raising an eyebrow "there doesn't seem to be anything here". I look outside the window again, catching sight of the wooden sign that had made us stop in the first place. It's the only thing that has stuck out along the long stretch of road we've been cruising along for miles. Uncle Eric's sat nav had been no use, and had dumped us miles ago with that cheery bitch's voice saying 'you have reached your destination'. I'd like her to be here in person so I could ask her a few questions about what she actually thinks constitutes a destination. There's nothing here but seemingly endless road flanked by golden sand dunes on one side a picturesque beach on the other sloping down gently towards the ocean, glinting in the distance like a sapphire in the sun. It's beautiful probably but I hate it already, sand will get everywhere, the water is most likely far too salty and most importantly it is too hot.

"Yeah, I'm sure, the letter said it would be along this road somewhere and this is the one thing we've seen and…" I lean forwards and shield my eyes against the hot Long Island sun trying to see as far ahead as I can. "…there doesn't seem to be anything up ahead so might as well check right?". I push open the door of the Volkswagen, which groans in complaint, and step outside and into a wall of heat. Ugh. Why couldn't this place be somewhere cold? I pull the hood of my soft black hoodie over my head and relax. The hoodie is one of the few things left of my mom's and wearing it takes me feel like a kid again, hugging her when I got home from school every day. But that was before. I shake off the unwelcome feeling of nostalgia and start to walk towards the sign. It's at the base of a slight hill covered in a thick layer of lush, mossy grass, despite the 60-degree August weather. It's weird but the thought is quickly taken out of my head as I reach the sign. "What the fuck?" I utter staring in disbelief. The writing on the sign isn't in any language I've seen before and for a moment, I wonder if it's my dyslexia messing with me, it's happened before but never this bad. I'm just about to call Uncle Eric over but then, between one blink and the next the letters begin shifting, forming the words 'Half Blood Hill'. Somehow, the language I couldn't read a few seconds before had formed words I could understand. I unfold the letter that is still clenched in my hand and check the name again like I haven't done that thousands of times already since my 16th birthday 6 months ago. I scan over the words I now know off by heart:

My Beca,

There are so many things I wanted to say to you and teach you but there wasn't the time and I know that it is my fault. I wasn't the mother I wanted to be, and I allowed myself to lose you and I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am. I know you won't have forgiven me but know I'll never stop loving you. I didn't have a choice about leaving you with your uncle-

I snort derisively and roll my eyes at that part. Yeah right bitch, people always have a choice. I already know what the rest of the letter says, and for some reason reading it this time is making white hot rage boil closer to the surface than ever, so I quickly skim to the part I need:

When it's the right time, Uncle Eric will drive you to Camp Half-Blood, there are people like you there who will help make everything clear, here's the address

Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill, Farm Road 3.141

Long Island, New York 11954

So, this is the right place. They could have fucking signposted it better. What the fuck was mom thinking sending me somewhere this hot and this in the middle of nowhere?! And what did she mean about there being 'people like me there'? So I get to hang out with other people who supposedly 'don't fit in'? Other people who can't control their tempers? I tried that once before and that's why we had to move out of Oregon. There's already a feeling of longing to be back in Seattle growing in my chest and I turn back to the car wondering if maybe I could lie and say that this wasn't the right place, and maybe Eric would take me home. My last school was okay I guess, I'm more appreciative of it now at least anyway, but I guess I can't really undo an expulsion. Somehow, he always knows when I'm lying though so I know there's no point. I turn around and start trudging back towards the beetle, unmissable with its coat of canary yellow almost blinding me in the sunlight. I haven't even seen the place yet and I already know I don't belong here, just like I didn't belong at any of the other 7 schools, colleges, academies and camps I've been expelled from in the last 5 years. I just want to go back to Seattle and become a DJ like I've always dreamed. It's an argument I've had with Eric many times and one I've never won, with him always telling me that my DJ'ing is just a hobby and that I need an education and a proper career. I'd tried so hard to persuade him to not bring me here, to just find somewhere else in Seattle but he'd been more insistent than I'd ever seen him, saying that nowhere else would take me, that I'd gone one step too far and that too many schools knew of my reputation. He'd said it was time to bring me here. I have no idea what makes this place so different and I don't want to find out, but I remember the deal I made with Eric and know I have to do it.

"How about this?" He'd said, "You give this place a go for two months and if it doesn't work you can come home to Seattle pack up your things go to wherever and become the next Rick Dees or whoever it is that's cool these days" I'd beamed at this, my dreams at last becoming tangible for a few seconds before he continued " but Bec, you've got to actually give this place a chance, join an activity, make some friends, make memories, do something please? For me just give it a try and if it doesn't work it doesn't work and I'll hold my end of the bargain". I'd groaned at the thought of actually having to try but had eventually given in. I'm regretting that decision now, as the beads of sweat are trickling down my forehead and every part of my body feels like it's melting at the unrelenting touch of the sun's death rays. I reach the beetle and slump back into my seat, accepting that my fate now is to die out here in this sandy shithole, dissolving like The Wicked Witch of The West in The Wizard of Oz.

"So, this is it then?" Uncle Eric asks, snapping me out of my macabre reverie.

"Yep this is it, looks great" I force, with an overexaggerated grin plastered on my face.

"Now come on Bec you don't expect me to believe your bullshit now do ya?" He grins.

"I'm just practicing on you, so I can fool the bozos that decide to come here" I retort.

"Bec please, this is your last chance and you said you'd try" he pleads, suddenly growing serious. I turn my head to look at him. He should really be living a much better life than the one he's ended up with. He's in his late 30's, tall and muscled with old movie star good looks, olive skin, deep brown eyes and a crop of almost black hair curling crazily around his head. When he smiles it completely lights up his face and his laugh is one of the best sounds, whenever I get the rare opportunity of hearing it. He should be happily married and raising a family with one of the many women that I've caught staring at him over the years, but he never seems to notice them, and I've never seen him date. I know that that's because he's too busy taking care of me, the niece that got dumped on him 8 years ago. I feel a stab of pity in my chest looking at him now, noticing the worry lines etched around his eyes, the tension evident in the tightness of his lips and the strained, concerned look in his eyes. That look has become more and more familiar to me over the years and I hate knowing that I am the one who puts it there. As much as I hate admitting it, the man is the closest thing to a father I have ever known, and I care about him a lot.

"I know, I'm sorry, I'll try okay?" I reply. A small smile spreads across his face and I feel for just a second like I'm doing the right thing.

"Thanks kid, I've got a feeling about this place, I think you're going to like it here" he opens the door and climbs out of the car.

"Maybe" I lie, a feeling of dread settling in my chest as I push the passenger door open and walk to the trunk, realising that I'm actually going to have to do this again. The new people, the ridicule, the questions, I hate all of it. Two months, I tell myself, its just two months, you can do this Mitchell. Eric already has the trunk open and hands me my duffel bag which I swing carelessly over my shoulder before I step forward to grab my laptop bag, the most precious thing in the world to me. My laptop contains all my music and my mixes, and it is my life. Wherever I go, it goes. Uncle Eric knows not to touch it and steps back as I gingerly lift it out and cradle it in one arm like a baby.

"Not too much time on that thing okay? And try and Skype if you get the chance" Uncle Eric says with a grin.

"Yessir" I reply, mocking a salute, which earns me a chuckle from him. "Well I best get going, can't be late for team bonding or whatever fun things they've got planned!" I attempt to cheerfully expel through gritted teeth.

"It'll be fine kid, I'm only a call away" he steps forward and wraps me awkwardly in his arms. We don't really hug much, but it's a sweet gesture and I can still smell his cologne on my hoodie after we've said goodbye and I stand at the side of the road watching the yellow beetle dwindle into a distant speck. It's comforting and a reminder of why I am doing this shit. I turn towards the hill and shield my eyes with one hand, trying to glimpse any sign of life.

"Right Camp Half-Blood, you better get ready, 'cause I'm Beca fucking Mitchell and I'm one tough bitch" I spit venomously, steeling myself for whatever's coming as I shift my duffel bag further up my shoulder and begin to climb the hill.