"You see kids are like dogs; knock them around enough, and they'll think they did something to deserve it."

James "Sawyer" Ford, Lost

The year was 1942. Well, it was practically still 1941 but because January first had passed by two weeks ago. Or at least I think it did; I didn't really pay that much attention to dates in Camp. But New Years had definitely passed. I hope it did; otherwise I'd feel like a moron for celebrating it. Well, I do feel like a moron because I celebrated alone in the Hermes cabin, while all the others hooted and howled over the holiday celebration.

I didn't bother to join them. I knew I wasn't welcomed. Not anymore because of Pearl Harbor. This is funny because mother had moved me to camp full time to avoid all the prejudice and hateful stares of the public back in good 'ole California.

Don't let the seemingly innocent, carefree picture of camp trick your eyes. They pretend to accept you as equal to their own stature. That because you're dyslexic and have ADHD, and have a hard time fitting in the Mortal world- you're all friends in a happy-go-lucky environment. Ha! Yeah right.

Well, that's how I used to feel about coming here every summer. I finally had found someplace where I belonged. I had friends, a whole bunch of them that made me glad to be technically related to them.

But that was before Pearl Harbor.

Then suddenly my mother sent me here in fear for what would happen to me in the regular world. And now I still hear the same hateful threats, spiteful glances, and it seems that almost every day some does something to my stuff.

Even Chiron pretends not to notice how much they disgrace me. I even think he might agree with them slightly, because if it was one of his precious Big Three kids; there'd a huge intervention. Mr. D is the same though. I'm grateful for that; we're all thorns in his side. Every one of us equally annoying. It's nice to know some things will never change. I won't admit out loud, but I secretly enjoy it when he calls us all annoying, over privileged, wannabe gods. Just for a sense of normalcy.

And I'm not even Japanese. I'm Filipino; well half Filipino. It's not like I or my mother or grandmother or anyone I possibly might know plotted to attack the United States.

I could try and explain that all to my old friends, but they would probably just ignore me.

It's good to know that I'm not the only one judged by appearance. Ruby does too. And Sam. I never noticed how everyone pretends their not there. I always assumed they liked to keep to themselves. But they weren't accepted either because they're black. That's the exact word they used to describe the discrimination. 'We're black and their white." Not African American. Just black.

I consider them my friends now, but they went home to celebrate the holidays with their 'daddy' in Alabama. Which means for the next five days I get to wander the camp grounds by myself, wishing someone else who looked remotely like me would come along.

Neither Ruby nor Sam is really shy and quiet. Sam is always wild and energetic; which is why he makes an excellent sword fighting partner 'cause he always enjoys going round after round after round. Ruby always has something to say. I mean always. I think she and my old friend Nicole from the Aphrodite cabin would be great friends.

Let me tell you, it gets really boring being alone. And you actually begin to think there's something seriously wrong with yourself. Just the other day I caught myself unintentionally thinking I wished I looked like my father Hermes and not my mother. And that Louise was way pretty than me with blonde hair, and pale skin. I really wish Ruby was here; she'd tell me to knock it off. She's good at telling me I'm wrong about myself- in a good natured way of course. Like the way a best friend would tell you your Mary Janes needed a desperate polishing.

I've seriously just considered writing my mother a letter to tell how absolutely miserable I feel. I want to write and say to come and pick me up. I'd rather be back in where the kids had already thought I was a freak of nature because of that of so special vision given to half bloods alike.

Camp isn't even fun anymore. It just feels like some prison personalized just for my own personal set of torture.

Yesterday I was late for dinner, and when I arrived there was a plate with food all neatly arranged on it. Before I actually ate any, I heard snickers not only from the people at the Hermes table, but from the Aphrodite and Athena. Mercy knows what they did to the food.

Know what? Forget the idea of wanting someone else that looked liked me to come to camp. I hope every other demigod that looks remotely Asian stays far away. I hope Ruby and Sam don't come back. Because being segregated from everyone else. Treated as a second class citizen by your own family just isn't humane. I wish for no one else to have known what it feels like to not be equal to someone else based off of your appearance.

It hurts real bad to walk around what I used to consider a home-away-from-home, ducking my head down low and hope to be unnoticed by the same people I used to swap pearl necklaces and Fedoras with- just so I can avoid being spat at. Just to avoid thinking that maybe I really am some soulless monster that belong in the Fields of Punishment- if that.

I wonder that if I hope and wish, that one day I'll be able to leave this place. After all, it would satisfy all the others. They'd get rid of the vagrant who is a traitor.

I'm still trying real hard to figure out what I did wrong. Is it really the shade of my skin? The shape of my eyes?

I put it all beside me now. They can be arrogant as they want. It's my company they're missing out on. If they wish for me to be an enemy; so let their prophecy be fulfilled. But they're being so foolish because one day they'll realize pushing people away because of false accusation, race, or whatever the case may be will land them with more enemies than friends. And then it's their loss.

A/N: So how was that nice piece of discrimination for your eyes? It was really hard to pick on who got to be discriminated. I was originally going to do African American then Jewish, then German, then... Well the list goes on, and I'm sure you have much better ways to waste your time.

Anyhow, I feel extremely proud of myself for not using a Katharine Hepburn quot.

Oh and please do share any stories about your own personal experiences with discrimination in a review!

You know you love me,

Bianca