I think the fact that I had a good night's sleep was the only reason why I managed to pass Mr Brunner's exam. I actually got a C on the test - a C! It didn't make up for the fact I failed my other exams, but it definitely helped my self esteem.

After the tests were over there was only a few days let of school left. Mr Brunner had wanted me to go straight to Camp Half-Blood from Yancy but I convinced him to let me visit my mum for a few hours before hand – with Grover in tow of course. Then she would drive the two of us to Camp Half-Blood where I would start my training. I was very excited.

The days went by slowly. But thankfully, nothing much happened. The only event of any note was when my dorm-mate gave me a farewell card with a few people's signatures. It took me by surprise that she cared even a little about me, but I wasn't complaining.

Oh, when I rubbed my C in Latin in Nancy's face was a good moment too. She only got an E.

On the last day of school I was so eager to get home I was bouncing off the walls. I couldn't keep my energy inside me. Even as I said goodbye to the few people I was friends with and got on the bus I was hyper. I was going home!

I was going to see my mum! I was also going to see Smelly Gabe, but I was trying not to think about him.

"So," Grover started, slightly awkwardly "What's your mum like?"

"Amazing!" I responded, quickly pushing any thoughts of Smelly Gabe from my mind "Sweet, kind, loving, caring, funny, a great baker, I could go on and on and on and on and… well you get the picture!" Grover only smiled. He knew not to ask about Gabe (my step-father). Whenever he had asked about him before I had clammed up and refused to talk.

Gabe... wasn't the nicest of people. He was often drunk and I knew to hide when he was. He took my mum's money and I sometimes saw bruises on her arms. It wouldn't have alarmed me if not for the fact that they were hand shaped. I hated him with a passion. I was sure that if I wasn't at boarding school for most of the year I would have the same bruises all over my skin too.

A huge grinding noise drew me from my thoughts. The driver said a few words that would have been quite inappropriate for my ears if not for the fact that I had heard Gabe say them multiple times over. He pulled over to the side of the road before exiting the bus to take a look at what was wrong. He rummaged around in the engine compartment for a few minutes before telling us we would all have to get off for him to fix it. Grover and I left with the rest of the group.

The road we had broken down on was is the middle of nowhere – no signs to tell you where you were or any landmarks to give clues. Hardly any cars were driving down the road and the leaves on the maples trees were silently bristling in the wind.

However, on the other side of the country road stood a small fruit stand. Even though I questioned why the person who ran it decided to put it on the quiet road, I couldn't help but think that it was quite charming. Even though it was the wrong time of the year (it was the end of December for goodness sake!), there were overflowing boxes of apples, cherries, walnuts, apricots and jugs full to the brim with what I presumed was cider. Fresh strawberries were piled into several punnets labelled 'Delphi Strawberry Service'. Best of all, at the back was a pot of blueberries.

My mouth started to water. My mum and I had a thing about blue food. It was her small way of standing up to Gabe, after he told her it was impossible to have blue food. I know, technically blueberries aren't blue. But I was never fond of technicalities: more often than not they got me into trouble.

I strode over; barely registering Grover's panicked protests behind me. I placed my money on the stand as I reached out for the blueberries. As I did so, I looked up to see who was running the stand. Before me sat three old ladies in rocking chairs, knitting the largest pair of socks I had ever seen. Were they trying to break a world record or something? They had probably already beaten it.

Each of the pair were the size of Christmas jumpers, but were clearly in the shape of socks. The lady on the right sat with one pair of knitting needles and worked on one sock. The lady on the left mirrored her and worked on the other. The lady in the middle held a large ball of yarn. It was bright blue, one of my favourite colours.

The only strange thing about them was that they were staring at me. Almost as if they were looking at my soul. I shivered. It scared me slightly.

Never loosing eye contact, the middle lady picked up a pair of scissors and held them next to the yarn. I flinched involuntarily, waiting for her to cut the yarn.

Yet, she never did. Slowly, she put down the scissors and uttered one word to me:

"Go."

"Can I take these, or..?" I asked hesitantly. She only nodded as I turned around and scampered back to Grover, who was the palest I had ever seen him.

"What did the old ladies do at the fruit stand Andy?" Grover questioned, nerves evident across his face

"I brought some blueberries from them... Why, wasn't I supposed to do that? They were just sitting there, with a bunch of fruit for sale and I couldn't help myself..."

"No! Andy, what were the women doing? Did they do anything with the yarn?"

"Oh yeah, they were knitting with it. The middle one nearly cut it, but then she put the scissors down. She then told me to go. She was creeping me out to be honest."

If it was possible, Grover got even paler at my answer. Almost as if on cue, the bus driver announced that the problem was fixed and that we could all get back on the bus. I had to direct Grover to get back on the bus as he wasn't focused on anything. He was in his own little world; muttering about the old ladies, never getting past sixth grade and... my death? How did he get onto that trail of thought? I thought I was the one with ADHD!

I waved my hand in front of him and when that didn't stir him from his stupor I clicked my fingers in his ears. He jumped, startled, and I asked if he was okay.

"An..Andy, I h..have a rea..son to be fr..freaked out." He explained after a while, still stuttering slightly "Th..Think of the three de..deities that are con..n..nected to string. Sp...specifically, string connected to l..life."

That was the last thing he said to me for the entire bus journey. I was left to my blueberries, my thoughts and Grover's comment. I mulled it over inside my head, trying to make links between three old ladies, string and Greek mythology. There was one obvious connection in my mind, but I was desperately trying to make another link. Popping a blueberry into my mouth, I realised that it was the only possible one.

I had met the Fates.

When we got to the terminal, Grover finally spoke to me again. However, it was only to get me to promise to wait for him as he went to the toilet. This didn't surprise me, as Grover's bladder often acted up when he was upset. So I went to get both of our bags and stood outside the terminal, waiting for Grover to come out.

I was tempted to ditch him, as I really wanted to see my mum, but I knew that he had to come with me. He and Mr Brunner - no, Chiron –had told me that satyrs were meant to protect half-bloods like me, and that it would look bad on Grover if I came to camp without him. It was why he was coming with me to my apartment in the first place. But I have always been incredibly impatient.

This time I had a reason to be though. My mum was the best person in the world. Her name is Sally Jackson (no, she did not take Gabe's surname when she married him. Who would want the surname Ugliano of all things?) and her achievements include being amazing at baking blue cookies and being the proof for my theory that the best people have the worst luck imaginable. When she was five, her parents died in a plane crash so she had to be raised by an uncle that didn't care two hoots about her. Her dream was to be an author, so during high school she tried to save every penny she had to get into college with a good creative-writing program. But then her uncle got cancer, so she had to drop out of senior year to take care of him. When he died, he left her with nothing. No money. No family. No diploma.

The only bit of good luck she ever got was when she met my father.

I don't remember him, faint images of a warm smile pop into my mind when I try, but nothing else. Mum doesn't like to talk about him because it upsets her to do so. She has no pictures of him. Only memories.

They never married, as he was rich and important (or so my mum said) so their relationship had to stay a secret. She told me that one day he set sail on a boat on an important journey. He never came back. He was lost at sea.

But now I know that the last bit was a lie. He was a god. According to Chiron, my mum probably wouldn't have known that, but I liked to think that she did. It would mean that she knew the reason that my dad left her, left us, to never return. That would make her story only slightly less heartbreaking.

After dad left her, she raised me by herself, working odd jobs, taking night classes to get her high school diploma, never complaining, never angry. She had a perfect reason to be, and if she was then I wouldn't have blamed her. But she wasn't. She put up with me and my crazy shenanigans. I know that I wasn't ever the easiest kid to take care of.

Finally, a few years later, she met and married Gabe. He was nice to me for the first minute or so (I think he lasted that long purely because I was a girl) but let his true colours shine through when he demanded that I 'Get lost' and that my mum and I should 'Make ourselves useful'. In the next week I had already nicknamed him Smelly Gabe, even if I never called him that to his face. But his name really was fitting. Everywhere he went, the stench of mouldy pizza wrapped in gym shorts trailed behind him like a lost puppy.

I have never regretted hating him for the way he treated my mum. But I do regret the way I treated him. Our arguments only served to make my mum's life worse that it already was.

So, my mum's life was a mess. Having her daughter get involved in her father's (aka a yet un-named god's) family was just going to make her life harder.

But I wasn't thinking about that when Grover came back. I was just thinking about how amazing it would be to see her again, to hug her again, to be with her again. Even if it was only for an hour or two.

So once Grover returned to me, I immediately hailed cab and told the driver my address.

I was on my way home.

So that was chapter 4! I'm about to start my GCSEs, so I wanted to get a chapter out before the onslaught of exams. Wish me luck!

I went through the the start of this story and found that I wasn't 100% happy with it so I (once again) edited it. I feel like I spend more time editing this story than I do actually writing it! I didn't edit chapters 2 and 3 by much, but I cut a fair bit out of chapter 1. It was phrased too much like the original for my liking and I wanted to edit it so that to make it clear that this happens BEFORE the Winter Solstice and stop Andy from seeming too knowledgeable about Greek Myths. She still knows a some things, but I phrased it so that she knows a bit less now. I also added a prologue! It isn't from Andy's pov and I'm pretty sure it's obvious whose pov it actually is, so I'll just say it:

It's Luke's! Yep, Luke will be a big part of this story, and SPOILER ALERT! I'm going to go down the cliche route of making him a good guy. Now I just have to write it...

I hope that you liked both this chapter and the prologue,

Lizzie