Intro
School and summer camp: a normal fact of life for plenty of fifteen year old girls. No matter what else is wrong or different with me, those experiences make me at least relatively normal, right?
I wish.
In fact, 'normal' is my polar opposite. Look up 'abnormal' in the dictionary and you'll find quite a few pictures of me. My summer camp just happens to be Camp Half-Blood, home of the demi-gods. (A demigod is a child of one Greek gods or goddesses). School is pretty out of the ordinary for me as well – Hogwarts. If I have to explain what Hogwarts is to you, then you might as well live on Mars (a planet named appropriately after a cousin on my dad's side).
You see, my mom is a witch; no, I'm not just saying that because she's evil or maleficent. She actually is a real witch, with a wand, broom, and everything; in fact, she is currently a Hogwarts potions professor. My daddy is Zeus. Yes, you heard right. Zeus, king of the gods. With the two of them as parents, I never stood a chance with normality.
Seriously. If I really had to have a god for a parent, couldn't they have been someone like Dionysus? Nobody ever hears about that guy. Ever.
Anyways, demi-gods spend the summer at Camp Half-Blood. Young witches and wizards study at Hogwarts.
As for me, I got the worst of both worlds. At Camp Half-Blood I am the half-blood wizard freak with the 'magic fairy wand'. At Hogwarts (Hufflepuff house to be exact), I am the half-blood god freak who can control the wind. Even my genetics contradict themselves; a pure half-blood.
Oh yeah, and I did I forget to mention that my oblivious parents are sending me to North Shore public high school for my sophomore year?
Wish me luck. I'll need it.
The name is Peyton, by the way. Peyton of Olympus, daughter of Zeus and half witch. That is all I am and that is all I will ever be. Even now that I'm transferring to North Shore High School...
Chapter One
Last year during spring break, I visited my Uncle Hades and my aunt, or cousin, Persephone. The entire Greek mythology family is entirely inbred, by the way. Also, they lived in the Land of the Dead – the Underworld.
Let me tell you, I had no idea what Hell was like until I entered a real high school cafeteria for the first time. Or as I like to call it, Land of the Walking Dead.
Before North Shore, I thought lunch was just for eating. Of course, I obviously expected everyone to talk among their friends, but this is way more extreme than that. In fact, some of these girls weren't even eating at all! Most of them were thinner than me, but I wasn't self-conscious about that. I had more important worries than a pound or two.
Everyone was separated into distinct social groups. As I understand it, they are better known as 'cliques' – all of the jocks sat together, the artists sat together, and the band geeks sat together. Even the Asians sat together, divided into two additional groups: nerdy and cool.
I wondered what would happen if there was a 'cool' person, who earned good grades in addition to being gorgeous and popular. How does one determine where they fit in? On a more urgent note, how could I possibly expect to fit in any group at all within a school of less than a thousand other teens, especially if there wasn't a soul like me in existence?
I wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, lost in the hectic jungle of a room until I finally found a table.
"Sit down," a blonde girl with two friends at either side beckoned in my direction. I scanned the cafeteria, not sure she was speaking to me. "Seriously, sit down."
I sat, still not sure which clique this was. I quickly learned they were the 'popular' group. Was that a good thing?
"Why don't I know you?" she asked, a curious expression pasted onto her flawless face.
"My name is Peyton Olympus, I'm new. I used to go to boarding school in England." True enough.
"Wait, what?"
"I lived at the school in a-"
"No, I know what boarding school is, I'm not retarded. But you've seriously never been to a public school before?"
I shrugged.
"Shut up. Shut up, shut up."
"I didn't say anything."
"But you're, like, really pretty."
I never really thought about it, but I guess I am kind of pretty. I may not be quite as skinny and blonde as picture perfect Regina, but I have long, soft ebony hair cascading down my back and delicate facial features. My eyes are emeralds. Literally, but that's another story for another day. Back to Regina...
"Thanks," I blushed, flattered.
She immediately countered, "So you agree?"
"What?"
"You think you're really pretty."
"Oh! No, that's not what I meant at all-"
"Oh my god, I love your necklace! Where did you get it?"
That was my Camp Half-Blood end of summer necklace!
"Camp," I replied simply.
True enough, right?