My name is Rebakah Isobel Castellan. I live in an orphanage in New York.

Last week, a guy came to my orphanage and told me that I was supposed to go to a special summer camp. Go figure.

I told my neighbor, Mr. Brunner (his real name is Chiron), and he said that he already knew. It turns out, Mr. Bruner is the camp's activities director.

He also mentioned that he was friends with my father.

I know who my dad is. I always have. I also know who my mom is.

My mom disappeared a while ago, but she'll be back. I have a feeling.

Oh, and you might want to know that I have a metal leg. Also, my fingernails grow abnormally sharp. I have to cut them once a week.

I look like my father. Sandy hair (almost red-ish), tan (but-not-quite-tan) skin. But I have red eyes like my mom and vampire-sharp teeth.

Who was my dad?

His name is Luke Castellan, Son of Hermes.

I walked up to Half-Blood Hill, Farm Road 3.141 Long Island, New York 11954. On my way here, Oliver Jenkins (a satyr) had explained to me "who I was".

In a world where Greek mythology is more than a myth, and gods have the ability to take the appearance of a mortal, what happens when they fall in love with mere mortals? Well, they produce a Demigod, half-human, half-god. And these Demigods inherit their immortal parent's abilities.

Whether it be Ares, God of War, whose children are mind killing machines, or Apollo, God of the Sun, whose kids are playful and joyful with arrows. Pretty awesome, right?

Then, there's the dyslexia and ADHD that enable you to act fast in battle, and read Greek, better than the English language.

All that did was make me angry. Obviously, he was used to this.

"I know about the Gods, okay? I know who my dad and my mom are." I slammed the door to the car and walked out.

There were tons of other campers here. Some even younger than me (I'm only 13).

Actually, I'm 3, but my mom had some magically ability to make me older and POOF, here I am.

I saw Mr. Brunner at the bottom of Half-Blood Hill greeting campers.

"Hi," I greeted him.

"Beka!" He smiled. "You made it. The Hermes cabin is #11."

I thanked him and went toward my cabin.

There were few kids there. We all had the same look in our eyes: like we were going to steal your wallet—or we already had. Of course, they had normal colored eyes.

I chose a bunk. It was obvious that this cabin had been expanded to fit more kids. It sure needed to be.

I decided to go look around. I took a tour of the cabins, watched basketball, said 'hi' to some campers.

Someone bumped into me.

"Hey!" I turned around. "You."

It was Percy Jackson. The creep who had killed my dad.

"Umm…hi. What's your name?" he asked.

"Beka. You know my dad."

"Who is he?"

"Here's a hint," I said. "My full name is Rebakah Isobel Castellan. That help?"

He fainted.

I sat, lonely, at the end of the Hermes table. Annabeth was looking at me funny. Percy probably told her that Luke had a daughter.

I was really getting annoyed. I looked up; she was still staring. I slammed down my fork.

"Would you stop staring at me?!" I yelled at her. "Yeah, I'm Luke's daughter! Deal with it!" I stormed off.

EVERYONE gasped. I guess even the new kids had heard of Luke.

It's kind of hard to run off with a metal leg, so, evidently, I slipped. My leg clanked on the ground. Annabeth came up behind me and helped me up.

"So, you're ½ empousa, ¼ god, and ¼ mortal?" she clarified.

I nodded.

"Mr. D knows, which means Zeus will know. He won't be happy you exist. One question—no offense intended—why were you made?"

I sighed, "Luke had a feeling he would die. He wanted someone to be able to take his place in the war with my Lord Kronos. I was a smart child and learned to fight when I was 1 month old. My training continued for 2 years, when I was taken away. Luke, the real Luke, didn't want me harmed. He sent me off with my Aunt Tammi (Kelli's old apprentice) I studied with Tammi, and I'm a very skilled fighter. Then Tammi got herself killed again and I was sent to an orphanage. And now I'm here."

I went back into my cabin, avoiding campfire at all costs. I left Annabeth at the door.

I took a book out of my pack (which, luckily, hadn't been raided). It contained funny quotes to make me happy in sad times. I read them over.

Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings.

"Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its pupils." - Louis Hector Berlioz

The only reason people get lost in thought is because it's unfamiliar territory.

I laughed until I cried.

But I was soon pulled back into reality. I would never be accepted here. I'm not normal. No duh. Sometimes I wish I was as invisible as people make me feel.

Everyone thinks I'm so tough…but I just never let them see me cry. I sat on my bunk, singing myself to sleep, wrapped around in the promises no one seems to keep. I felt something heavy in my hand. It was a locket. On it read the Ancient Greek words: Θέρος, τρύγος, πόλεμος.It meant 'Summer, autumn, war'.

I noticed something on my bedside table. Something (actually, there were two things) that had not been there before. A watch and a sword. Not any sword, but Backbiter. My dad must have sent me these gifts!

I poked the watch. I spiraled ou into a shield with a beautiful selection of daggers on the inside. I smiled gleefully. But that smiled faded.

My mom used to say: "If someone you love hurts you, cry yourself a river, build a bridge, and get over it."

But I had cried. I cried myself an entire sea. But I just didn't want to get over it.

"Curse the gods," I muttered.

I did not curse them for what they did to my father. I cursed them for what they did to me.

I was sure they knew I existed. But yet, when both my parents died I was left all alone. Almost.

I'm guessing you don't know I was a twin. An identical twin. When my dad sent us away, we were spit up, but we promised we'd find each other when the war was over. We were sent to different sides of the country. She is somewhere in California. Oh, her name is Alysia McKenzie Castellan.

I'm just a kid…

But my life is a nightmare.