(Author's note: This is my first fanfiction ever, and I really hope you like it. It's supposed to take place between Sea of Monsters and The Titan's Curse, so that's why things are a little different than the way they ended up after The Lost Hero. I'm not really sure how the whole copyrighting thing works yet, so I am basically going to say that Kim and Glee are my characters because I have their character outlines sitting right next to me, and the whole idea behind this is Rick Riordan's masterminding because he is just that cool. Okay, read on! ~not Ross)

Chapter 1

So I hadn't planned on falling flat on my face before I had even introduced myself. Things just worked out that way.

Early in September, the Community Youth Theatre Association decided to host their own Teen American Idol, in response to the popularity of a certain reality show. When I got the email explaining what it was about, I ran down the hallway screaming. My mom signed me up right away. Three weeks later, I was clicking my high heels nervously against the cracking linoleum floor of the high school. Everyone else looked about four years older than me.

"Mom," I hissed, "I think I'm sweating my makeup off."

"You're not," she assured me.

"Number thirty-six," called the Ryan Seacrest equivalent. Sort of. If you consider an underdressed band geek to be like Ryan Seacrest.

For the millionth time, I fiddled with the paper number pinned to the front of my shirt. Thirty-seven. I tried to breathe. Come on. This is just like the audition for Oklahoma! And Thoroughly Modern Millie. And Bye-Bye, Birdie. And—

"Thirty-seven."

Now, I was used to clacking high heels and all that, even tap shoes, but I wondered if my mom had glued a lifetime supply of Doritos to the bottoms of my shoes as I clopped up to the door. Did they have any shoed horses I could ride to be more discreet?

"Good luck," the band geek muttered. I didn't know people actually taped their glasses together like that. "But care-"

I hauled the door open, took two steps forward, and then gravity suctioned my face to the floor.

"Tried to tell ya," he shrugged before slamming the door shut.

"Are you okay?" one of the judges shrieked. She clicked over to where I was still laying on the ground – she must have been wearing heels, too, though I couldn't see beneath her floor-lengthed dress. Good. Then it wasn't just me. "There was nowhere else to put that wire, I'm so sorry!"

"Just fine," I mumbled, picking myself up slowly. "I should be used to walking in heels by now."

"Can we just get on with this?" another judge groaned. "Two more and we can have lunch."

"Oh, shut up," the third snapped. "Are uplifting words not in your vocabulary, is that it?" He turned to look at me. "I'm Vince, that over there is Glee, and this is Simon." He pointed to the judge who wanted lunch.

I snorted. "Is your name really Simon?"

"No, I just enjoy being likened to the most annoying person on television."

"Oh…"

"Just ignore him," Glee said. "What are you singing for us today?"

"Um… 'I Could Have Danced All Night' from My Fair Lady."

"I love that song!" she applauded.

"I find it rather boring, actually," Simon complained.

"Just go ahead and sing…" Vince scanned down his list, "…Kimberly."

I cleared my throat and began to sing. I've always like that song because it always reminds me of the feeling I get after closing night of a show – "Sleep, sleep, I couldn't go to sleep." Couldn't go to sleep? Ha! I once tried to shimmy up my bedroom wall after a show.

Just as I reached the chorus, Simon's nose began to elongate.

After having been through more than several disastrous theatrical incidents in my life, I tried to ignore it. After all, having Pinocchio judging my singing was probably even better than having hungry Simon doing so (and definitely not as bad as the brown paint and bananas situation a few months before). Instead, I tried to focus on Glee, because she was a lot better to look at than Vince. But she looked even more preoccupied than I felt.

By the time the second verse began, Simon jumped out of his seat, and I screamed. While I was avoiding his lengthening nose, he had transformed from a moody judge to some kind of monster-under-the-bed. Only not under the bed. Maybe a pig? A pig with gray fur and a figure the size of my mom's Civic?

"Get behind me, Kimberly," Glee screeched, running to protect me.

"Is this some kinda…"

Vince screamed and dashed towards the door, but Simon-the-pig-thing blocked his route, snarling.

Glee shoved me behind her, yelling, "Vince, don't look at it! Get underneath a desk!"

"What is that thing?" Vince stammered. Simon lurked by the door.

"It's a katoblepones. Very dangerous."

"A what the heck?"

Simon leveled his eyes and sauntered towards Glee and me again. I was beginning to think more cow than pig, but what did I know about barnyard animals? We had used cardboard boxes, foam poster-board, and cotton balls to make sheep for Oklahoma! "Kimberly, do not, under any circumstance, look into his eyes."

"Why?" I stuttered.

"To give you the short version, it'll kill you."

"What is he, Medusa's golden retriever?"

"It's a little different than that."

Simon, a Medusa's best friend, raised his long, saggy snout to look at us. Glee slapped her hand over my face, and I fell backwards because of my heels, hitting the linoleum hard. Simon growled excitedly.

Glee pulled me to my feet and whispered, "All you have to do is close your eyes and hold your breath, okay?"

"Why?"

"I'll explain later. Just trust me."

It seemed simple enough to trust a woman named after a feeling of jubilation – unless, of course, she turned into a unicorn or something. I gulped in air and held it, clenched my eyes shut, and stumbled around the room blindly as Glee dragged me on a very indirect route to a wall. I could hear Simon jumping and growling and snorting, trying to get us. My lungs began to feel like a Valentine's Day balloon in June: deflating and forgotten. Glee shoved me through an open window (at least, that's what it felt like), and I slammed into the middle of one of those drought-resistant succulents that crunches and oozes plant juice everywhere.

"Wait just a minute, Kimberly!" she shouted. I eventually gave in to my lungs and quickly re-inflated them. More growling and what sounded like Vince screaming erupted from the other side of the window, followed by a quiet *piff* like the sound a snowball makes when you throw it at your mom's ear when you're skiing at Mamoth. I kept my eyes vacuumed shut. "Okay, she panted, landing lightly on the ground next to me.

I dared to look up, and I immediately regretted it. "Aaaagh!" I shrieked. Glee stood before me, but she had hiked up her long peasant dress to reveal two legs a whole lot hairier than forgetting to shave for a few weeks.

"Calm down," she told me.

"I don't think so! I knew talent competition judges could be harsh, but no one told me that they spontaneously turn into anteaters and… huskies!"

"Katoblepones and satyrs, actually," she corrected.

"My version is easier to say. I'm out of here!"

"That you are, my friend." She grabbed my shoulder and held me back. "But not back to your house. You can be sure there will be more monsters there."

"Monsters? Where, under my bed?"

"Like Simon, and no."

"Fine, then what about my mom? How's she going to protect herself?"

"They're not interested in mortals. They're here for you."

As if to imply that I was not a mortal? Oh, surprise! You're actually a goddess, so you may want to stop wasting your time in school. Yeah, sure. "I'm really lost… Look, I just want to go home. Or wake up. Or whatever."

"We all do. Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment." She turned her back to me, and I saw a gold dagger hanging from her very fashionable woven leather belt.

"Woah," I said. "Is that a knife?"

"Sh!"

I tried to process what had just happened. Step 1: greet antisocial band geek and fall on face. Step 2: sing a song for a guy who morphs into a monster. Step 3: get rescued by a goat woman who carries a really sharp knife in her designer belt. Could a person's day get any weirder?

"Dude."

"Dude!"

"Hello, boys."

"Hey, dude."

"Duu-ude! You're not planning on wearing those heels all the way to Long Island, are you?"

"Long Island?" I turned around and, yet again, shrieked. "What is- Are those- I…"

"Pegasi, yes ma'am," Glee announced. "And you might want to take off your shoes."

"Dude, yes," one of the Pegasi nodded emphatically. "I mean, dude, have you ever been ridden by someone wearing heels? Not cool, man, not cool."

"Oh, snap, dude."

"I don't feel very good…" I mumbled, kicking off my shoes numbly.

"I know, dear," Glee said. "Just kick back and let these bad boys do the work, okay?"

"Dude!" one of them grinned.

Glee helped me up onto one of their backs, and I slumped forward, overwhelmed.

"Uh, listen, dude…" said my Pegasus. "Seats in the upright position for take-off and landing, you know? Dude, haven't you ever flown before?"

The only things I remember after that are the wind flipping my hair in every possible direction and a very off-key rendition of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' sung by our flight crew themselves.