Disclaimer: Percy Jackson and the Olympians and The Heroes of Olympus are owned by Rick Riordan.

Chapter One

When I got into stupid music school, I didn't think the focus would be so much on trying every form of music that ever existed. Learning more instruments, sure. More practice with composition, probably. But trying to study forty minute jazz ballads was beyond me.

"I just think it would be best if you, you know, branched out a little bit," my academic advisor, Kelly, told me during our first meeting. Her office was small, with a creaky wooden table in the center and a bowl of stale cookies. She was scrolling through something on her laptop as she spoke. "I've listened to your demos, Nico. The things you've done with pop punk and alternative are great, but maybe trying out some other fields will help you be a better musician overall. What about jazz, or, or country? More vocal practice wouldn't hurt either."

I nodded. Freaking jazz and country. If I wanted to be playing those, I would already be playing those.

"Let's try adding a few academics, too. You aren't taking statistics, that might be a good addition," Kelly suggested.

I wasn't a huge fan of math, but I also wasn't about to start arguing with her. Not that it would make a difference, anyway. "Sure. Statistics is fine."

"Great. Maybe we can squeeze in some more theory stuff, too. How do you feel about music history?"

Music history, every musician's favorite subject. Who doesn't just love learning about every single old guy who's fingers ever grazed a piano?

Kelly probably didn't want to hear any of this, so I nodded again. "Music history. Cool with me."

The clock on the wall kept ticking louder and louder, and all it did was remind me that I should've eaten lunch by now. Maybe I could drive by that burger place on the way home. Or, even though I didn't really attend the school yet, maybe they'd let me eat in the campus cafeteria.

I shoved my hands deeper in my hoodie and wondered if the cookies on the table were expired. (And if they were, would I get sick from eating them?)

"Alright."

I turned my attention back to Kelly, who had stopped typing and was now giving me a weirdly fake smile with far too many teeth.

"You're free to go, Nico. You should get your schedule by email some time this week."

"Thanks."

…

When I did get the email, I was at home with my parents, in the middle of reading a book and watching a movie at the same time. I was only really understanding half of the book and half of the movie, but it was better than understanding none of the book and none of the movie.

My schedule was somewhat insanely full, and I was also somewhat insanely broke, so I decided maybe Kelly would let me skim off a class or two so I would be able to get an actual job. The best person to call during this situation was probably Annabeth. She didn't pick up right away, but I knew she would, so I rung again.

"Hello?"

"Annabeth? Hi. It's, uh, Nico." I brushed my hair out of my eyes and turned the TV down slightly.

"Oh, hey, Nico."

Annabeth was one of my high school friends, and she liked to pretend she knew everything about everyone, which, to be honest, she kind of did. She looked almost like a princess, with her blonde hair good and natured features, except for the fact that she smiled rarely and only genuinely.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Okay, so, I need a job."