Hey, it's another one-shot by me! I was bored, OK, and this came into my head. So just enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't fricken own PJO! Frick, stop fricken asking me! (Love that word so fricken much . . .)

Bystander

Nothing has ever been out of the ordinary for me.

At least, not until that day. The one day that screwed up everything in my perfectly organized life.

It was around dusk, summertime, and I was at the park. I was at the basketball court shooting free throws- I aimed to make the middle school team this year.

Just a normal thing that normal guys my age would normally try to do.

My mom had dropped me off earlier, said she'd be back around 6 to pick me up. And it was around 6.

So I propped the basketball under my arm and went to sit on the bleachers by the baseball diamond and wait.

Normal.

I was a bit antsy, I admit it. But I know I wasn't hallucinating.

Out of nowhere, I saw this boy. He just appeared from the shadows cast by the oak tree in the clearing. He stumbled forward a bit, seeming dazed, then regained his balance and looked around.

He was pretty scruffy looking, like those homeless people you see in the movies holding cardboard signs and begging for money. The homeless people your mom tells you not to say anything to when you pass them. He could have been one of those homeless peoples' kids.

He had curly dark hair, shaggy, kind of like mine. His skin was pale under all the grime. His eyes stood out- they were a bright blue-gray, kind of like the blue sky behind storm clouds. He was scrawny; his oversized sweatshirt emphasized his smallness. His jeans were ripped and faded. His sneakers were dirty.

He looked just like a normal homeless kid.

But that wasn't the case.

When I looked closer, I could see a sword- yes, a sword- strapped through his belt. It was dark, scary- it sent a shock through me just to see it.

Why would he be carrying a sword? This was the 21st century, if I was correct. Maybe I had walked into a time warp went I went to practice basketball.

The boy had a triumphant air about him. He grinned smugly as he leaned against the basketball hoop for support. He didn't seem to notice me watching from the bleachers.

Then something even weirder than the boy from the shadows burst from the forest.

It was a giant. A real giant. It had to be at least 12 feet tall. It was clutching a club in its right hand. Its face was angry and brutal. It gave a roar that shook the earth.

The boy cursed in a language that wasn't English. He drew his dark sword from his belt and dropped into some sort of guarding stance.

The monster roared again and swung its club. My eyes were probably as big as dinner plates.

The boy's eyes widened too. But he just dove to the side and landed in a roll, dust flying up from the ground as he got back on his feet.

The humongous beast snarled at him and lashed out with a hand that was probably as big as two of me stacked on top of each other. The boy stepped back and swung the sword.

He cut off the giant's index finger.

The great monster howled in pain as blood spurted from the wound. Anger made its movements even clumsier; it blundered blindly towards the boy, who rolled lightly under its legs and stabbed at its foot.

The giant snorted. The boy laughed. "You'll never get me!" he taunted. "Never! My father won't let me die this easily!"

The giant let out a furious roar. It whirled around faster than I thought possible, and apparently faster than the boy anticipated. It grabbed him around the neck with one hand and lifted him high, high into the air. The sword dropped about 20 feet as both the boy's hands clawed feebly around the meaty fist that was tightening around his throat.

"Please . . ." he croaked. He kicked desperately at the monster's forearm, but he wasn't getting a reaction. The giant's eyes, red with hatred, were glinting harshly. An evil, satisfied smile crept over his lips as he tightened his grip on the boy's neck.

I realized I'd been frozen, perched on the top row of bleachers, watching a boy be attacked by a monster that wasn't real.

I was seeing things. I was going crazy.

That's when I ran. I ran from the abnormal sight, the unusual happening. I practically flew off the top bleachers. The pain that shot up my ankles when I landed did nothing to slow me down. As soon as my feet touched the ground I was running, running as fast as I could possibly run towards my home.

I had to get away . . .

Nothing happened for the rest of the summer. My life returned to the normal, perfectly organized life it had been.

Then came the first day of seventh grade.

My binders were all in my new backpack. Their dividers and notebook paper were all neat. I was wearing crisp new jeans, a red polo, and new, clean sneakers. When I got to my locker, all my books- math, history, science- were all neatly arranged in the top shelf. I put a poster inside the locker to personalize it, then closed it, twirled the lock, and headed to my homeroom.

The teacher's name was Mrs. Bryant. She was weird, abnormal. I hated abnormal. Things should be just as they seem, in my opinion.

And Mrs. Bryant looked like a normal middle-aged lady who was trying to look 20 years younger in a leather jacket with an almost wrinkleless face and dyed chestnut-colored hair. But the way her voice was a bit too sweet, the way her hawk eyes swept over the homeroom . . . she kind of unnerved me.

She told us to stand up in our seats, one at a time, and tell the class our name.

"Alicia Franklin." Normal. Brown hair, brown eyes, tall.

"Quinn Wayne." Goofy grin, tangled hair, wild blue eyes. Might have to watch out for him.

"Daryl Bongiorni." Just because of the odd Italian last name, I turned to look at the speaker. I had to suppress a gasp.

Daryl Bongiorni was scrawny with pale skin and curly dark hair and blue-gray eyes like the blue sky behind storm clouds. He had some faint red marks on his neck.

Oh my god.

It was him.

The boy who fought the giant in the park two months ago.

And he was in my homeroom class.

Mrs. Bryant stared at him for a while, an almost hungry light in her eyes. "Well, class," she said, "I hope you all get to know each other well this year." Her eyes never left Daryl's face as she spoke. "Have a wonderful year."

The bell rang. We all stood up, slung our bags over our shoulders, etc. The usual chatter of the new school year broke out as we all piled into the hall, frantically looking at schedules and laughing as the geeks dropped their books when the jocks pushed them.

I watched as Daryl Bongiorni strode down the hall, talking with some girl. I'd watched him almost die when a giant tried to strangle him. And he hadn't even seen me, didn't even recognize me. I was just his classmate.

But I'd been there. I knew he wasn't as normal as he seemed.

I intended to find out just what he was.

Soon.

Soooooooo? Whadaya think? Look, I was just bored, so I thought, let's write. I know it wasn't amazing, but oh well . . . I hope you liked it! Tell me whatcha think! Instead of read and review, I'm gonna say enjoy and evaluate! Cuz that's cooler! : ) Peace out!