Harry
There was a muted sound, like a book dropping on a desk. I gasped, my head snapping up, my senses on full alert. In front of me was a large history book and behind that was a purple blouse tucked into a pair of black pants.
"Mr. Seawood, will you tell me what this is about?" asked Ms. Gustavo. I looked up to see my history teacher looking angry. Her eyes were covered with too much makeup, so they looked like black pits, her hair was brown, but there were a few strands of grey hair here and there. She wore a bandana that held back her hair and they rolled down to her shoulders in waves. She had thin lips that were covered in bright red lipstick and shone in the light. When she talked, you could see uneven yellow teeth on the top and bottom. Her thin body looked like she might fall down any second.
I blinked and looked around at thirty laughing faces. Except for one. The boy was at the very back of the class, tinkering with several paper clips, twisting them here and there. He was too focused on his work to notice that the lesson had paused.
"Well, Mr. Seawood? Will you tell me what you were doing?" asked Ms Gustavo.
"Uhh," I let out, not really knowing what to say. "You could obviously see that I was asleep." It came out just like that. A roar of laughter erupted behind me. I smiled nervously.
"Mr. Seawood, see me after class," said Ms Gustavo angrily. Her black eyes passed over the class and everyone shut up at once. "And that counts for you too, Mr. Alvares." The boy at the back of the room who had been playing with the paperclips jumped and looked up, confused.
"Uh," he stammered. "The civil war?" The class erupted in laughter.
"Everyone, get back to work, before I give the whole class detention," warned Ms Gustavo. Once again, the class shut up right away. She turned around swiftly towards the white and wrote something down. I looked at my worksheet, which I'd been drooling on for the past ten minutes..
I squinted and tried to read the first line, trying to see passed my dyslexia. I mouthed the words to myself: The Revolutionary War. Huh, Alvares was pretty far off.
The Alvares dude was new to Chelsea Middle School. He had arrived just last week, which was pretty stupid because there was only four weeks left of school. I looked out the window at the brick wall. Ha, New York City. I knew you had to pay a lot to get a good view, but I wished the school had made an effort to get something else rather than a brick wall.
I tried to concentrate on my work, but my mind kept slipping. I couldn't wait to go to Central Park with my mom. We would have a picnic and watch the sun set. My eyelids kept drooping but I would pinch myself, reminding me that I didn't want to see Ms Gustavo looking down at me again with those dark pits.
The bell rung.
"Please hand in your completed copies tomorrow," shouted Ms Gustavo over the noise as everyone jumped out of their chairs and hurried for the exit. I slowly packed up my things, not really caring about my paper crumpling in my bag.
I stood up and met my teacher and the Alvares kid at the front of the room. I really didn't know his first name and I had never bothered to ask him. He never talked to anyone anyways.
"You two," sighed Ms Gustavo as if she couldn't wait to get rid of us. Which she probably was. She turned towards me and her smile revealed her crooked yellow teeth. Her eyes seemed to grow even darker. "I've been waiting all year to be with you." Something about her didn't seem reassuring and I couldn't help myself but take a step back.
"Um, yeah, that's great," I muttered. I suddenly wanted to get the heck out of that room. I felt my face growing warmer. Ms Gustavo turned to the Alvares kid.
"And you," she continued. "I'm going crazy with two half-bloods in front of me."
The kid frowned and seemed offended. "You're quite rude," he said. It was the first time he'd said anything.
"It's not in the way you think, Damien," hissed Ms Gustavo. She suddenly lunged forward, her left arm making a wide arch towards the both of us. I ducked, grabbing the kid - apparently his name was Damien - with me. We both stumbled back against the teacher's desk.
In the time it had taken us to look back up at our teacher, she was already transforming. Her pants seemed to rip to reveal a hairy leg and a metal leg. Her hair dissolved and was replaced by a ball of fire that made her eyes look even darker. Her canines seemed to grow out of her mouth like a vampire's. Her fingernails grew sharp and strong like talons.
The room was quiet for a few seconds until the kid, Damien, broke the silence. He pointed to the hairy leg and asked, looking slightly disgusted, "Is that a donkey leg?"
"Fools!" roared Ms Gustavo, who looked nothing like before. She lashed out and we both scrambled to our feet, dodging her claws. Damien and I both observed her with curious eyes, leaning against the radiator under the windows. Neither of us wanted to get too close to her.
"Um, what are you?" I asked. She hissed.
"Do you know how long I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity?" she asked, the canines moving up and down.
"No," answered Damien, wrinkling his nose and glancing at her donkey leg. "Not really." Ms Gustavo growled. She was about to step forward when the door opened.
In the doorway stood my english teacher, Mr Bertram. He held what looked like a club in his hands, make from wood and heavy bolts. He was wearing baggy jeans and walked like each step hurt. He didn't dress like any of the other teachers. He was what people called him "laid back". He glanced at the both of us and then at Ms Gustavo. Sweat was trickling down his forehead like he'd just fought through a crowd of people under a blazing sun to get here.
"I've been expecting you," muttered Mr Bertram to Ms Gustavo.
"I was wondering when you'd turn up," growled Ms Gustavo, turning to him. She crouched down and launched herself at my english teacher. Wow, a fight between teachers. I'd never seen that before.
Mr Bertram raised his club and swung it at Ms Gustavo. He knocked her aside and she landed on a desk and rolled off.
"Wow, is this some sort street fight?" asked Damien, rubbing his hands together. He looked excited. Mr Bertram leaped over the desk so easily it looked unnatural.
"How did he do that?" I asked. Mr Bertram slammed his club at Ms Gustavo but she rolled aside and jumped back to her feet.
"You really think you can get me so easily?" asked Ms Gustavo. She swung her hand in an arch and Mr Bertram blocked her with his club. He lowered it and brought it crashing into Ms Gustavo's abdomen. She stumbled back and before she could recover, Mr Bertram pulled out a bronze dagger from his belt and sent it spinning through the air. It hit her in the chest with a thunk and she dissolved into dust. The dagger clattered to the floor and the sound echoed around the quiet room.
Mr Bertram picked it up and looked at the both of us, breathing heavily. "You two have to be more careful," he said.
"What was that?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"An empousa," said Mr Bertram, slipping the dagger back into his belt. "You two, come with me." He hurried out of the classroom. Damien followed him without a moment's hesitation.
"Please don't let this be another Ms Gustavo," I muttered and quickly followed them.
"Wait," called Damien. Mr Bertram stopped and looked back at the both of us.
"What?" asked Mr Bertram, slightly annoyed.
Damien pointed to the top of Mr Bertram's head. "What are those?" For the first time, I noticed that coming out of my english teacher's curly brown hair were two small horns.
"Horns, now let's go before there are anymore," said Mr Bertram and he began sprinting down the hall in his weird steps, faster that the average person.
"Did he say horns?" asked Damien, glancing at me.
"I hope not," I muttered. We left school, which was totally fine by me.
"Where are we going?" I asked as Mr Bertram tossed an unusually large coin onto the street. It seemed to sink into the pavement.
"Stêthi, Ô hárma diabolês!" he shouted at the cars passing by. Somehow, my brain translated that to: Stop, Chariot of Damnation!
"Somewhere safe. Don't worry, your mom already knows," assured Mr Bertram and a taxi that seemed to be made out of gray smoke materialized in front of us. "Get in, quickly!" He opened the door and ushered us inside. I sat down in an old leathery seat, my thigh pressed against the opposite door, Damien's shoulder pushing against mine. Mr Bertram closed the door behind him and leaned towards the front.
"Oh, hello, Alvin," said the woman at the wheel. The two others turned around and grinned at us. One of them had had her eyes closed and the other had one only one eye open.
"Hey, Wasp," breathed Mr Bertram. "Long time, no see." He was panting heavily, as if he'd just run a mile. "Camp Half-Blood." The one at the wheel slammed her foot down on the gas pedal and the smoke taxi jumped forward so fast my breath caught in my throat and my head slammed against the head-dress.
"Put on your seat belt kids," said the one whose eyes were closed.
"That's a bit late," muttered Damien as he twisted around to grab an old seatbelt. After a lot of twisting and turning and maneuvering, we managed to put on our seatbelts. What would've been an hour long ride took only twenty minutes. The taxi swerved around cars at breakneck speed and the tree ladies kept on chiding and complaining about each other.
Finally, the taxi screeched to a stop on the side of a deserted road, leaving tire marks behind. I quickly opened the car door and threw up on the side of the road. Somewhere far off, I could hear the sounds of waves crashing against a shore and the air smelled strongly of the sea and strawberries. Damien stepped out and looked around. He didn't seem to look sick at all.
"I love strawberries," he said as the taxi sped off behind him and disappeared around a corner. Mr Bertram helped me up and pointed at the hill in front of me. On top of it stood a forty foot tall statue of a woman dressed in a golden chiton and holding a life-size statue of a woman also dressed in a gold chiton with a pair of wings. In her other hand, she had a massive shield taller than the average person and a spear leaned against her shoulder. Her cold ivory eyes stared ahead passed the road.
Next to the statue was a tall pine tree with a golden piece of fabric on it and what looked like a massive boulder under it.
"Quickly," said Mr Bertram, pushing us towards the hill. Something about that one hill was different. It seemed to beg me to come towards it, to climb it. The grass that grew on it seemed greener and healthier. We finally reached the top, where a tall marble arch stood. On it was carved the words Camp Half Blood.
"Wow," I breathed out. Below us lay a large piece of flat land. A few hundred feet away from us was a large blue house with a porch that went all around. A small river flowed towards the middle of the field and on the left was a strawberry field. Farther away, a winged horse emerged from a wooden house. A girl wearing an orange shirt climbed on and the winged-horse flew into the air. Behind the wooden house was a large forest where a creek flowed through. To the right of the wooden house was a small hut, more like a shack and farther to the right a miniature arena. Next to the arena were a cluster of buildings, each one different, arranged in an Omega sign. Farther, there was what seemed to be like a pavilion with a bunch of tables. At one point, the river gathered into a small lake where kids were swimming or jumping off a large boulder. The river continued and emptied out into the ocean, a massive body of water that glittered under the sun. There was a massive climbing wall, where kids dressed in orange shirts avoided the lava that was running down it. Next to the lake was an open air amphitheater and a volleyball court where kids dressed in orange shirts were playing volleyball.
"What is this place?" asked Damien, looking at the kids playing volleyballs. I could hear their shouts from here.
"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, the safest place on earth."
Author's Note
Next chapter will be posted next week. Keep reading to find out who are Damien's and Harry's godly parents.
Note: I do not own any of the material from the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series or The Heroes of Olympus series and created by Rick Riordan. I do not make any money off of this story either. Rated T just to be safe, and there is some violence.