Undetermined Hero

By: Aeroga

Full Summary: While Percy Jackson is off retrieving a master lightning bolt, rescuing his friend from an island infested with killer sheep, or even exploring a Labyrinth, life at Camp Half Blood continues on. Sometimes, you don't have to be the son of the big three to be a hero. At least, that's what the main character finds out the hard way. *Takes place before The Lightning Thief and during the course of the first series*

Rated: T

ARC I: BEFORE THE STORM HITS

-ONE-

WELCOME TO CAMP HALF BLOOD

"This must be another dream, but my eyes are open and everything still moves in slow motion."
-Thrice

Now, when your mother says vacation am I the only one who thinks of Splish Splash water rides and hugging Mickey Mouse in Disneyland? I must be because apparently my mother's definition of the word "vacation" came from the Athena's Dictionary of How to Ruin Your Son's Day.

When my mom said I was going on vacation, I was so happy so happy that when I went to my bedroom to tell anyone who would listen, I smacked right into the wall besides my bedroom door. A little humiliating, but I got over it fast. I say anyone who would listen because kids at my school don't particularly like me and shy away at the sight of me.

I'm not gross. I don't smell bad. I'm not particularly revolting when it comes to looks. The thing is, they're afraid of me. Well, not me, but of my "condition". I suffer from a condition known as Narcolepsy. Pretty much if my body feels like sleeping, then it will. Anywhere, anytime. Doesn't matter if I'm getting ready to shake the hand of Tetsuya Nomura. It sucks, yeah, but it sucks even more when people judge me for it.

Anyway, my mom told me to pack so that's what I did. She specifically told me to pack anything I may have needed because I wouldn't be coming home for a long, long time. Of course, I was all like "Vacation, yes!" not realizing that my mother and I have two different definitions of the word "vacation".

When I was done stuffing whatever could possibly fit into my small suitcase (mostly clothes, my gameboy advance, a few games, and other necessities), I rolled it into the living room where I found my mother sitting on the couch. She was fixated on a photo of mine that she had taken at Splish Splash in Riverhead. That was five years ago, when I was seven. Looking at the picture made me think how strange it was that a person can grow so much in a short period of time. Take me for example. I still have the same brown hair, the same brown eyes, pale complexion, and freckles scattered across the bridge of my nose. But now, I'm taller. My hair has grown a bit since then, even though my mother insists on playing master barber and keeping my hair my hair short. For the last several months I'd been rebelling. When my hair is short, it lets people know how big my ears really are.

"Your dad would be so proud of you," My mother smiled up at me from her spot on the couch. She reached up and brushed her hand across my cheek. If she would've done that in public, I probably would've shied away saying "Mom" all whiny-like.

The thing about my dad is that he's mysterious. I don't know a single thing about him. Mom says he left before I was born. I asked a few times about what he was like, but she flat out refused to speak about him. Which is okay and all, but I would like to know who he is. I've already established that he isn't dead since the one time I asked if he was, she got all mad saying "he's got more important things to do than raise a child". Something about "favoritism" was in there too, whatever that has to do with anything. Of course I just found out that my dad isn't just an abandoner, he's a godly abandoner.

"Uh… thanks mom," I shifted awkwardly in my spot.

Sometimes telling people in my school that I have one parent makes them pity me even more than they already do. No one looks at me like I'm a normal kid. No one talks to me like I'm a normal kid. They think I'm stupid or something. I'm not!

"Are we leaving now?" I asked, after a long period of silence. My mother's strange behavior was starting to make me question this whole sudden "vacation".

My mother nodded slowly. She placed the picture on the couch and got to her feet. She led me by my shoulders to the front door. The only thing that could be heard was the rolling of my suitcase's wheels against the wooden floor. It was unsettling and only added to the feeling in my gut that something was wrong.

When my mother pushed open the front door, I saw a huge black SUV, the kind that might be used to escort the president, parked in the driveway. The windows were tinted so I couldn't see inside.

"Mom? Who is that?" I asked, giving her a questionable look.

My mother bent down and poked me on the nose like she always did whenever I asked a silly question. Her eyes were all red and puffy. Her freckled cheeks were stained with watermarks from crying.

"M-Mom? What's wrong?" I asked in alarm.

"Honey," She ignored my question, "you will always be my child. You know that, right?" She ran her fingers through my hair.

That's when I realized that she wasn't coming with me.

"I-I know that but… but… why aren't you coming with me?" I asked, holding onto the sleeve of her shirt for dear life.

She's abandoning me. Just like dad. It's because I'm not normal, I thought clenching my a fist. She doesn't want me anymore. She's just like all of the other people. I'm just a burden.

I got the message. If she wanted me gone, then okay. Before she could open her mouth to respond, I tore myself away from her and stomped over to the back of the SUV. Without having to tell the driver to open it, the trunk popped open, almost hitting me in the face. I lifted my suitcase in and then slammed the door shut and went over to the back seat.

As I reached for the handle, I hesitated a moment. I turned toward my mother who sure enough had started crying again. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I couldn't offer so much as a reassuring smile.

I opened the door and climbed in. The SUV was as nice on the inside as it was on the outside. It had that new car smell to it. The seats were made of some kind of beige leather or something. There was a GPS system built into the stereo system.

I studied the driver carefully. There was something strange about him, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. He looked normal enough. He had that surfer guy look to him. Curly blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I swear, that if I really focused on him, I would see eyes all over his neck. But when I would blink they would be gone.

Right. I'm not losing my mind.

I strapped myself in and the SUV began to move.

I tried to strike up a conversation with the driver but it was like he was deliberately trying to ignore me. Eventually I lost interest in him and started to watch the scenes of Long Island go by in a motion blur.

Somewhere along the line, narcolepsy or maybe just my inner child kicking in, I fell asleep because the next thing I knew I was awaken with a start by a man in a wheelchair. He poked me with a cane.

I yawned loudly as I unbuckled my seatbelt. In turn the disabled man yawned with me. "Where… am I?" I asked wiping drool from my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt.

"Your mother didn't tell you, hmm?" He asked. The man looked like he could be a teacher or a college professor. He was dressed in a brown suit. He had a blanket draped over his legs. He had brown that neatly trimmed, as was his beard. Like the man in the SUV there was something strange about him too.

"Tell me what?" I said, sliding out of the car after him when he started to make his way up to a large blue prairie looking house.

"You'll see in a second. Come, come," He replied waving his hand for me to follow. "Why am I still in this form. It's very inconvenient."

I don't know how normal people react when a disabled man's wheel chair goes all Doctor Octopus on you and then you find yourself staring at the back end of a white horse. Well if you're like me, you probably scream and scream… and scream some more. That wasn't even worst part. The man was now apart of the said horse.

"You're a man-horse!" I screamed, pointing at him. "M-Man horse thing!" I started to turn and run because that was exactly what my responses were telling me to do, but I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, preventing me from going anywhere.

"Young man, I am a centaur. Not a "man-horse thing"," The man let out a sigh of disappointment.

"Right, and I'm the king of England!" I screamed, twisting and turning in his grip. I stopped taking a deep breath. "I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. Still at home. In bed…" I repeated over and over. I pinched myself as extra assurance and it hurt. "Oh god! I'm not dreaming!"

"This is certainly the last time I transform before showing the orientation film," He let out another deep sigh, "Well, no use in complaining about it now. I'm Chiron, the teacher to-"

"You teach heroes," I blurted out. I know a thing or two about Greek mythology thanks to my mother telling me bed times stories. Though she kept it PG for my five year old ears.

"Yes, young man, I do. I've taught many heroes," He nodded. "Since you seem to be well-versed on that, what are demigods?"

"Uhm… they're children of a god and a mortal… I think…"

"Which is precisely what you are," He said. "Your mother tells me you've been seeing weird things as of late, yes?"

If weird things are that my next door neighbors dog is actually a blood thirsty hellhound and the media arts teacher is actually a vampire with chicken legs, then yes. I had been seeing weird things.

"That's the power of the Mist," He explained. "Only demigods and gods can see through it. In a few rare cases, mortals can too."

It all made sense. Well, sort of. But I can't get passed the part that I, a narcoleptic child, am a demigod. This must be the ultimate prank of the century or something. I mean, what demigod in the Greek history has been a narcoleptic? None. I've made history.

Part of me wanted to call him crazy and go back to screaming bloody murder, but I knew he was right. Or at least I wanted to believe that he was right. Sometimes the line of dreams and reality is so thin, it's hard to tell the difference.

"Then… that makes my dad a god! Who… who is he?" I asked, looking up at him expectantly.

"I do not know," He frowned.

And that brings you up to the current situation.

I look at the ground, crestfallen. The sad thing is it that I don't know anything about my dad to narrow down the possibilities. He's got to be someone important. I mean, he has to be if he never has the time to come and see me, much less send me a post card with his identity on it.

"But don't worry about that child," Chiron says to make me feel better. "He'll claim you one of these days."

"Claim?"

Gods mark their territory? By the gods, I hope they don't pee on us or have us sacrifice adorable baby kittens.

"Gods claim their children," He starts walking towards the blue house again. It's hard to keep up with him since well… he's half horse… and well… I'm not.

"What happens to kids who aren't claimed?" I ask, when we reach the porch.

Before Chiron can answer, a short pudgy man catches my attention. The man has curly black hair and dark purple eyes, almost the color of wine. He wears a Hawaiian print t-shirt, a pair of cargo pants, and sandals with straps on them. Though he may not look too threatening, I have a feeling that if I say the wrong thing he'll turn me into a daisy and I'm allergic to daisies.

"Back, eh?" The man says, leaning back in the deck chair as Chiron and I step onto the porch. He looks at me for a brief second before turning his attention back to a deck of cards. "Name?"

I immediately straighten up. "Ros-"

"Rose? What a strange name for a boy," The man interrupts.

"No, sir. It's not Rose. It's Ros-" I start to say again but he waves me off like he's lost interest in me. I frown up thinking "Jerk".

"Now Mr. D, if you're going to the child his name, you should at least listen to what he has to say," Chiron says taking a spot on the other side of the table.

"Eh, doesn't matter. They're all the same. Determined or Undetermined?"

"Undetermined."

"Off to the Hermes cabin with you then," Mr. D says. "Callum! Take Rose here around camp and then to cabin eleven!"

Seconds later a boy maybe two or three years older than me exit's the house. If I was a girl, I'd probably be fixing my hair because this Callum boy is handsome. I mean it. He easily looks like he can be a model or something. He has short brown hair and ice blue eyes. He's tall and skinny, but definitely looks like he can beat you down if he has too. He wears an orange t-shirt that reads "Camp Half Blood" in black letters, black cargo pants, and black slip on shoes.

"Yes sir," Callum nods, before looking over in my direction. He makes a face and mumbles something underneath his breath. Mr. D must hear him because a slight grin appears on his face. Callum walks over to me and says, "Come on, Rose. Let's show you around camp and if we have time afterwards, you can meet my sisters and they'll give you a makeover."

I do not like the sound of that at all.

Aeroga: I posted this story a few days ago, but I was really unhappy with the way it came out, so I deleted it and posted this one. The first four chapters take place in the months before Lighting Thief. That's just to get you to know the unclaimed half blood a little better. After that it'll be following the storyline of the books. The main character will not be going on quests with Percy and his friends. He will have some sort of interaction with them, but nothing too important. He'll see Luke's spiral towards insanity, Thalia's tree poisoned, etc. I know this chapter is kind of weird, and I know one person will comment on it. All of the stuff before where it says "and now you're all caught up" already happened, so he was telling it to sort of catch you up to speed. After that point, he's telling it as it happens. Trust me. There will be no more chapters like this.

Next Chapter: Aphrodite's Kids Give Me a Makeover