A/N: I came up with this idea a few days ago. I hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Percy Jackson series, or the Heroes of Olympus.
Being a demigod is hard. Harder than anyone lets on.
It leaves no chance of having a normal life, or anything close. Only what we convince ourselves is normal. Or pretend.
I watch all the other kids I know (okay, so I'm in college, so not really kids) worry about tests and turning in homework. Projects. Exams. Having the latest technology so they can impress everyone. Dating.
Meanwhile, I sit in the back row, worrying about monsters. Worrying about all of my siblings back at Camp Half-Blood. Or the ones that are left, anyways. I worry about the next time I'll get attacked by a monster- and if it will be my last.
During the last two wars, Hermes Cabin took some of the worst hits. Other cabins lost one, sometimes two, or even three.
We lost five.
Luke Castellan. Ethan Nakamura (son of Nemesis, but he was still in our cabin. He was one of ours). Angie Grayson. Ella Toronto. Jack Fisher.
The worst part was, the last three were new. They had no idea what they were doing. I remember their deaths clearly, in my mind. Not a day has gone by without me thinking about them.
It was the war. We were standing there, on the street. Connor was to my left, holding his dagger. Angie, Ella, and Jack were in a cluster, looking bewildered. I blinked, and they were gone.
It only took one hellhound. Three seconds.
No one even heard their screams.
We almost lost Chris to insanity. And early on, before the war had really started, when Percy Jackson was twelve, we lost Mary.
She was there one day, gone the next.
Connor told me that she had snuck into town, to buy supplies for a prank. She never came back.
I didn't realize what had happened, until a week later there was an article in the paper about a blonde thirteen year old girl, whose body was found in the woods. They had identified her as Mary Callahut. They said she had died of an unknown cause, but I knew it was a monster.
Mary Callahut. Our Mary.
I didn't even tell Connor. The only other person that knew was Chris, and that was only because he had been the one to find the paper. To read it to me, because my dyslexia was so bad, it took me two hours to read a Dr. Seuss book.
Of course, nobody cared about all of the Hermes Cabins' deaths. And besides, what were Hermes' kids useful for anyways, besides fighting wars?
Nobody cared about the impact the death toll it had on us.
We were dispensable. More so than other demigods, because there were always lots of kids in the Hermes' Cabin. Filling up the bunks. More than often, we ran out of beds, and some kids had to sleep on the floor.
I always let the new kids have my bed, if there wasn't enough. It was the least I could do.
Being told you were a demigod was like being given a death sentence. I've always known I was going to die young. So does everyone else at Camp.
It's why people seem to fall in love so young. Because they won't grow old.
Some just don't accept their imminent deaths.
It's why I pull pranks. Not just because my father is the god of thieves. Pulling pranks is the only chance I have to still be a kid, to not have grown up when I was ten and I learned I was a demigod. It's my act of rebellion against the world I was forced to live in. I never chose to be a demigod, never wanted it.
I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.
You know that face in the back row? That child of Hermes? The one who always appears to be plotting pranks? Throwing spitballs? The one with the almost constant smile on his face?
Well my friends, that smile is only skin-deep.
A/N: Please review!