Chapter 1- Tears of Neglect Camp Half Blood
Summer 2000 Smiling, I sat down. I didn't ever belive that I would feel this way, but I do. Growing up in a broken home with a neglectful mother takes a big chunk of hope out of you, but things were changing. In case you don't know me, or didn't deduce who I was by reading the past 40 words, I'm Luke, I won't tell you my last name, but belive me, if you knew it, you'd know who I am. I had grown up all my life with only my mother, no father. My mother never spoke about my dad. I didn't even know that there was such things as dads until I started going to school, not that I was aloud to go to school that often. It had never been feasible to me that my dad might care for me, or want to claim me. Heck, it was never feasible to me that my dad was a god. I guess I better start from the begining.
Manchester Massachusetts Spring 2000 Rain poured down from the sky in buckets, the wind wove through the trees, forcing leaves to spill the drops of water they had collected. I sat on the damp wood of the front porch, the seat of my tan pants getting wet. The rain gutter occasionally deposited big fat raindrops onto my head. Even though I knew it was babyish, I was crying, my face in my hands. The sky was slowly darkening, mud coated the hem of my pants, and my shoes. I had been sitting her ever since I had gotten home from school, at two-thrity. I consulted my watch. It was eight-thirty. My mom still wasn't home. " If only she would let me have a house key." I muttered, mostly just to keep myself company. "Then I wouldn't be stuck in the rain for six hours." tried to scoot back on the porch, to somewhere warmer and drier, but no such spot exsisted. Our porch roof was full of holes, my mom always said that a lady didn't have to do maintnence work, and that I should do it. I would have fixed the roof if she had given me some money to get the right matereials and tools. Even if she hadn't given me materials and tools, I could have just fixed it with duct tape and cardboard, but we didn't have a ladder, or anything tall enough for me to stand on to do it, and of course, my mom didn't want to spend the excess money to get one. I heard a car approaching, hopefully, I lifted my head, hoping the car was my mom's and that she was in it. It wasn't my mom, I put my head back in my hands. The were warm, and somewhat dry. I considered going over to a neighbor's house and seeking refuge, but I discarded that option. I didn't want to impose on somebody else, or make my mom mad. Stretching, I grabbed my schoolbag. I pulled out a small orange left over from lunch. I took a bite into it, recoiling at the taste of the peel. I took my teeth out of the orange, and used the holes my teeth had made to my advantage, I pulled the peel off of the orange, enjoying the warm stickiness that was running over my hands. After I had peeled the orange, I ate it. I looked at the road one last time, hoping to see headlights. I saw none. I sighed, my mom probably wasn't coming home. I extracted my jacket from where I had put it in my school bag, to keep it dry, and I spread it over me, curling up, so that it covered as much of me as possible. Laying my head on my schoolbag, I fell asleep.
Manchester Massachusetts Spring 2000 Rain poured down from the sky in buckets, the wind wove through the trees, forcing leaves to spill the drops of water they had collected. I sat on the damp wood of the front porch, the seat of my tan pants getting wet. The rain gutter occasionally deposited big fat raindrops onto my head. Even though I knew it was babyish, I was crying, my face in my hands. The sky was slowly darkening, mud coated the hem of my pants, and my shoes. I had been sitting her ever since I had gotten home from school, at two-thrity. I consulted my watch. It was eight-thirty. My mom still wasn't home. " If only she would let me have a house key." I muttered, mostly just to keep myself company. "Then I wouldn't be stuck in the rain for six hours." tried to scoot back on the porch, to somewhere warmer and drier, but no such spot exsisted. Our porch roof was full of holes, my mom always said that a lady didn't have to do maintnence work, and that I should do it. I would have fixed the roof if she had given me some money to get the right matereials and tools. Even if she hadn't given me materials and tools, I could have just fixed it with duct tape and cardboard, but we didn't have a ladder, or anything tall enough for me to stand on to do it, and of course, my mom didn't want to spend the excess money to get one. I heard a car approaching, hopefully, I lifted my head, hoping the car was my mom's and that she was in it. It wasn't my mom, I put my head back in my hands. The were warm, and somewhat dry. I considered going over to a neighbor's house and seeking refuge, but I discarded that option. I didn't want to impose on somebody else, or make my mom mad. Stretching, I grabbed my schoolbag. I pulled out a small orange left over from lunch. I took a bite into it, recoiling at the taste of the peel. I took my teeth out of the orange, and used the holes my teeth had made to my advantage, I pulled the peel off of the orange, enjoying the warm stickiness that was running over my hands. After I had peeled the orange, I ate it. I looked at the road one last time, hoping to see headlights. I saw none. I sighed, my mom probably wasn't coming home. I extracted my jacket from where I had put it in my school bag, to keep it dry, and I spread it over me, curling up, so that it covered as much of me as possible. Laying my head on my schoolbag, I fell asleep.