Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. Percy Jackson and the Olympians is not my intellectual property, it is Rick Riordan's. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only. The only original characters are Emma and Jasmine and some more may pop up as the story continues.

Hi there. I decided to write my life story because, well, why not?

A fair warning, it is not all that pretty. I never asked for this life. I did not stay up in the middle of the night and wish for this lifestyle change. In the grand scheme of things you are born into your life plan. Sure, nurture beats nature in most things but nature played a sick game of cards too.

That warning? Here it is; Your parents told you all about Santa Claus and you felt that joy every year, even after you found out they made up a superior man with no tolerance for naughty children. You grew up with it, you became accustomed to it. You felt that damn joy.

It was a good lie. Sometimes lies are kinder than the truth.

The hidden truth was not kind to me. Still was not. It is scary and unpredictable. It holds adventure at every corner. I'm a second away from certain death most days, often life scraped by because of sheer dumb luck.

Again. Not kind. So, if you find yourself relating to this story of mine maybe little too much? Back away. Burn the book. Hide. The moment the full extent of the hidden truth is revealed to you, others become aware. Too aware. Be ready for to be hunted, because man, you are not the top of the food chain as you were led to believe.

Scared yet? If not, then great! Experience the true risky and vulnerable life of a semi-human through ratty old pages. Enjoy a hot chocolate. Grab a blanket. Get comfortable because this story, it is a long one.

My name? Emma Jackson, at your service.

I'm fifteen years old and until a few months ago I attended a boarding school called Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in up-state New York with my brother, Percy.

Yes. You read that correctly. Troubled kids. Not disturbed, although some are. Am I troubled? A little bit, yeah. Is Percy? Most definitely.

I'm sure as hell not a Mary-Sue. This is my life story. I'm not a seemingly perfect fictional character so get that out of your head right now and you won't be sorely disappointed.

Got it? Okay. Moving on.

I could tell you all about my nightmare of a life. You could play sad music in the background and weep or cringe at the cliché dark past story. But, I figure things only got painfully bad when our school went on a school trip to Manhattan.

I guess you could say it was the start of the dismantling of the hidden truth.

Our small class of thirty and two teachers took a trip to Metropolitan Museum of Art. We were to look at ancient Greek and Roman history. It sounded interesting enough at the time, anything that appeared supernatural really intrigued me, but all of us cramped in a yellow bus for ages? It sounded like such fun.

Okay. Nah. Torture, morelike. Most Yancy field trips were, because of a certain red head. Let's not jump ahead though.

Mr. Brunner the Latin teacher joined us on the trip. Honestly, I expected it to be less agonising because of this very reason.

On the way into the city, Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded girl threw pieces of her peanut-butter and ketchup sandwich at the back of a new friend of mine's head, Grover.

Her friends laughed. But, there were people who looked at her with a weird glint in their eye, they did not so much pass judgement on Grover but on Nancy and her actions. Yet, they sat and did nothing. That was almost as bad.

Grover, he was an easy target. He was scrawny and quiet. When he became angry no one could tell because of the waterworks. If being a new kid was not enough of a reason to pick on him, the fact that he was crippled was. Something about a muscular disease. We did not speak of it much, to be honest. He tensed up when it was mentioned. I learned to let it go.

I clenched my jaw as Nancy managed to get yet another piece of sandwich thrownat Grover. It landed in his curly hair. She passed it along for another kid to do the honours.

She smirked at my glowering because she knew damn well I could not do a thing about it. Percy was on his final warning with the headmaster. Mom did not need yet another letter.

Besides, I'd be damned if I returned home to mom and told her the reason I got expelled was because of some 'peanut-butter incident'.

"I can't wait for this trip to be over," I mumbled, earning a strange look from Grover. So I explained, "I might not be able to do anything in school to her, but after..."

"It's fair game," the boy to our left finished for me.

"You've been looking forward to it for ages now. Just ignore them and..." Grover placed a hand on my arm. "No. You're not going to do anything. I mean, I like peanut-butter. If anything, this is the best trip I've been on, ever."

An open sandwich smacked right into Grover's face. The peanut-butter made the bread stick to his face. Red blotches of sauce splayed on his shirt.

"Best trip ever," I mocked under my breath. "Yeah, right."

The boy to the seat left of us made to get up. "That's it!" he growled.

Grover reached across the aisle and pulled him back down. "You're playing right into her hands," he told him with a shake of his head. "She's not the one on probation. She's not the one that will be blamed if anything happens. You are, Percy."

"I know." He sat back down, slumping back into the chair. "I know she's a girl. I know that. But I still really want to punch that smug look off of her face," he said through gritted teeth.

Grover looked panicked. "What? No! Percy! You can't!"

"Relax," Percy said quickly, noticing his friend's distress. "Like you said, I'm on my final warning. Blah. Blah. Blah." He rolled his eyes then his eyes gleamed. "Guess who isn't though?"

I nodded my confirmation, getting a grin from Percy. I then frowned, studying Nancy. "I swear she gains a freckle with every soul she taints."

"Well that's a theory." Grover licked his lips, gathering a blob into his mouth with a satisfied grin then his face dropped. "You can't punch that girl, Emma."

"It's not a theory," I said, casting the girl a cold smile. "It's the truth of the matter. If she does anything else I deem worthy of a punch, then well, who knows what will happen?"

"Oh come on. One field trip without you two causing world war three. Want to give that a shot?" Grover asked with a timid smile. "No unplanned swimming adventures or shooting canons into the buses. What do you say?"

"That was all Emma," Percy interjected.

"Not it wasn't," I denied. "You told me the canon didn't work. The instructor said it's just a prop." I mimicked him. "That was your fault."

He tried hard not to smirk. "Did I bomb the bus?"

"Who's on their final warning?" I asked him. He rolled his eyes at me. Grover looked at me expectantly. I rubbed my chin, pretending to contemplate his words. "We'll see."

He frowned. "That's not a yes."

"It's not a no either." I grinned.

"It's a maybe?"

I cocked my head to the side. "Sure. A maybe."

Honestly, if I had gone through with punching Nancy out, my story would have been so much different. Our story. Kicked out of the school and onto yet another. Yancy Academy, just another one of many failures.

Mr. Brunner led the museum tour and I did not want to get on his bad side. We walked along the aisles, following the wheelchair bound teacher past statues and other old stuff that I'm sure was interesting in its own right.

My classmates laughed and pointed out things they found weird. Mr. Brunner smiled, not really annoyed. With a look at him, you would not expect him to be so lenient, even cool in the eyes of some. His hair thinned and he wore these tweed jackets, reminding me of Indiana Jones for some odd reason.

He told stories, mystical ones. Stories told in such vivid detail that I swear he could have been at the scene itself. He became especially vibrant when he brought out the Roman armour and weapons he collected. He made stuff that I normally would have found boring, interesting.

We gathered around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a 'sphinx' on top. His spoke of the carvings. He spoke passionately. Well, I guessed. I could not hear a thing he said because of the constant whispering.

"Can you give it a rest already," I said, nudging Nancy right in the ribs.

Nancy clutched her side for a second before placing her hands on her hips. "Can you stop breathing already?" Then with a taunting smile she finished with, "Dyke."

I could not help it. My elbow had a mind of its own and whacked into her uncovered ribs again.

She gasped out a, "Mrs. Dodds!"

Of course the fifty year old leather wearing woman glared daggers at me, reminding me when she rode up to school on her first day on her roaring motorcycle and with her dead eyes made everyone shrink back in fear. Those eyes could not seem to drag themselves away from mine.

I could never stand down from a stare off.

And of course Nancy and Mrs. Dodds got on splendidly. They both had an opinion in common. That I was the spawn of satan himself.

"Emma, stop looking at her like that. It's making her crazy," Grover whispered, nodding his head in Mrs. Dodds direction. I continued to scowl. "Stop it."

I shoved him away. "You stop it."

"Guys..." Percy warned.

She crooked a finger at us, beckoning us to the side away from everyone else. "Now, honey," she said lightly, placing a hand on my collar. To others it looked like she fixed it. Reality? She coiled it tightly. "You best be quiet. You don't want to ruin it for everyone else, do you?"

My nostrils flared as I tried to keep my temper in check. Her lips were curled up into a purple sneering mess and her laboured breathing made me extremely uncomfortable.

I suddenly had the urge to wallop her.

"Of course we'll be quiet, miss." Grover pushed me away before I did or said something I would regret. "We're sorry for interrupting."

Once out of her hearing range I let out a heavy breath. "She is so not human."

Grover looked at me, real serious and said, "You're absolutely right."

"Now look who's talking," Nancy hissed, halting her snickering at the naked guy on the stele.

I heaved a sigh. "Seriously. Will you shut up?"

Obviously I had intended for it to be a harsh whisper of some sort. However, it came out much louder that I expected. Nancy's face reddened and the whole group glanced at us and laughed, making Mr. Brunner stop talking of his story.

Percy grinned to my side, glad he was not the one caught this time. "Someone's in trouble."

"Ms. Jackson," Mr. Brunner said, rather calmly. He glanced between Grover, Nancy and I before he continued, "do you have a comment you wish to share?"

I pursed my lips, knowing full well he saw that Nancy spoke first. "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner frowned, clearly displeased. He pointed to a singular picture on the stele. "Perhaps you can tell us what this picture represents?"

I looked at the carving and held back a victorious smile. "Kronos, he was the youngest of the first generation of Titans. He's eating his children."

"Yes," Mr. Bruner said, pausing for a second. "He did this because?"

"Well he overthrew his own father in the... Golden age?" I asked, Mr. Brunner nodded for me to continue. "Well he knows familial ties doesn't mean squat compared to power. He didn't trust his own kids, the gods. His wife hid Zeus and Kronos ate a rock in his place. Zeus tricked Kronos into vomiting up his siblings."

"And we think the Kardashians are the family to watch," Percy mumbled to my right. "This is proper family drama, right here."

I flashed Percy a smile and tried not to get sidetracked. "So basically history repeated itself. Children overtook their father's rule."

People still laughed, not getting over the vomiting fiasco. Especially Percy, his face grew purple because of his lack of breathing.

Nancy shoved her shoulder into me as she turned to talk to a friend. "Our parents ground us. Oh! I know how to solve the problem. I'll pledge a war." She scoffed. "How is any of this useful for us to know?"

"And why, Ms. Jackson," Mr. Brunner addressed me once more, "to paraphrase Ms. Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Well she got called out, huh?" Grover muttered with an impish grin.

"Shut up, weirdo," Nancy hissed, her face matched her hair. "At least I have friends to speak to."

Percy snickered. "Why did the tomato blush?" he asked, glancing between Nancy and Grover. When all Nancy did was sneer, he continued, "because she saw the salad dressing."

I smiled a little at Grover's silly smile and Nancy's petulant scowl. At least in my line of questioning, Mr. Brunner caught her out too. He somehow always managed to catch the sly comments.

I cleared my throat as I thought about the question. "I don't know. Maybe that blood relation doesn't equate to automatic trust. Or it shouldn't, at least."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed.

Grover whacked his shoulder against mine. "You okay?"

"Asks the guy with peanut-butter in his hair." I looked him up and down. "And ketchup colouring his shirt."

He held up his hands. "A treat as it is a curse."

"Well, to wrap this up," Mr Brunner said, "Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children. They grew in his stomach. The immortal gods defeated their father by using his own scythe again him and proceeded to scatter his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the underworld."

"Ew, mustard," Nancy grumbled, scrunching up her nose. "Worse than throwing up children."

I gave her a hard look. "You ate peanut-butter and ketchup. You can't say anything." I smirked a little. "I wouldn't be surprised if you start to throw up dolls."

"On that happy note," Mr. Brunner said, clapping his hands. "It's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class went off. Girls giggled at the stories and naked statues. Nancy complained that her stomach was in knots because of 'mustard', and the guys, well they shoved each other around.

Grover called me to follow but Mr. Brunner said, "Ms. Jackson."

For some reason, I knew to stay back.

"Go ahead, Grov," I said, then turned to Mr. Brunner. "Sir?"

Mr. Brunner stared right into my own eyes. His brown eyes had many shades, like each lifetime he gained a new shade to add to his collection. His life experience seemed so very vast and widespread.

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told me. "About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Sure," I said offhandedly. "Deception of people you should or do trust and all that."

He did not appear amused. "What you learn from me is vitally important and I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Emma Jackson."

He always said the same thing. He always wanted so much from me. Too much. I, being the procrastinator that I was would never live up to his expectations. Did I want to? What about what I wanted? Did that not count too? Did it matter?

He praised other children, but then he would turn to me. Mr. Brunner's eyes always held a challenge. 'Can you do it? Can you do better?'

The problem with teachers is not knowing when not to push. He expected me to be like everyone else. Let's have a pop quiz, he'd announce on a random morning. Lets check to see if you remember the different names and places of the Greeks and Romans, kid that has dyslexia and attention deficit disorder. Let's see if you're actually trying, huh?

He would be okay if he expected me to be a normal every day student, anything that was above a grade C, but he expected too much. He expected better and I had nothing better to give.

"I'm sure it is, Mr. Brunner," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. "But respectfully sir, there's only so much effort that can be put in without a breakdown. I know my limits."

I did not give him a chance to say anything else. I would not have wanted him to. He looked up and above my shoulder with one of the most expressive sad eyes.