Hi there! This is an idea that I had for a story which I will most likely never continue because I have no real idea where to take it from here. That's okay, though, because I've never been particularly good about finishing stories. Actually, if you think this is a keeper, then write a review, maybe throw some ideas my way, and I'll see if I can keep it going. Really, this is just about a character who's been running around in my head. I really love this series. I've been reading it since I was ten. I am now starting college and my readings are mostly confined to Plato and John Stuart Mill, so I kind of like getting a chance to write about things on a lower level. So please review and let me know if I should keep going with this!

No offense to T.S Elliot, but my world didn't end with a whimper. It ended with the good old-fashioned bang of a 3D movie in IMAX, except I was there to experience the blinding pain first-hand. It's not something I recommend. Most eighteen-year-olds get to worry about college, moving out, becoming adults – you know, normal stuff.

Me? I get to worry about staying alive.

Sometimes I wonder if things are better for normal people. I wonder if I'd have been better off not knowing that my father is immortal, or that I have powers most mortals can't even imagine. I wonder if I'd be better off living in an ignorant bliss, not knowing that I'm in constant danger even when I step out my front door. Apollo is the god of sun and light, but boy, that sunny disposition sure skipped my generation. My sister must've taken my portion of it, because that girl never stops smiling.

Anyway, I'll get to the end of the world eventually. You could say my story began a long time ago, maybe as far back as when I discovered that I have a godly parent. I was ten when a satyr guided my sister Kendra and me to Camp Half-Blood. We knew about the Roman camp even then, but my mother has always been very clear about one thing: we do not talk about the "others" in public.

That was eight years ago. Now, I'm fresh out of high school, and I'm still as awkward and reclusive as I was back then. Clinically depressed, according to the shrink. Truth is, camp never suited me the way it did everybody else. Of course, my sister loved it, but then again, everybody loved my sister. She's been a social butterfly since she could talk, and I'm certain she also got my share of good looks. I can't really blame her, but it always made me feel bitter when I was referred to as "Kendra's little brother." Most people never even bothered to learn my name.

I'm done with that, though. I was always better off helping my mom with the kids than I was fighting monsters and going on quests. The kids like me, see. Well, the quiet ones do; the ones who are mostly always afraid. A lot of the kids who come to us are those whose mortal parents have been killed or went missing somehow. It's usually pretty hard to find them. Our auras don't really develop until our teens, but that's what makes it all the more crucial to find these kids before they're found by monsters.

The Home was my mother's idea. Shortly after I was born, she was shocked to hear that many demigod children are left to fend for themselves – at least until the camps find them. My mother was one of Apollo's…less demanding lovers. She never expected to be granted riches or immortality. Instead, she asked to be able to help demigods find their way. Thus, Kendra and I grew up surrounded by other demigods of both Greek and Roman descent.

Now, you may be thinking to yourself: but wouldn't the two camps know about each other, then? What happened to the whole secrecy thing? That's the part that breaks my mother's heart, but arrangements had to be made. By order of the gods, each kid who leaves our care has a small part of their memory removed. Not enough to make them forget who they are, but enough to make them forget that there is another group of demigods out there. It makes me kind of sad, thinking about this rift. I've seen best friends forget each other completely because of it.

Other than that, it's a fairly smooth operation – if you discount the occasional monster attack. And a few highly emotional episodes.

The summer after high school was the same summer as the Battle of Manhattan. I participated with the rest of Cabin 7, and I witnessed the fall of some of my siblings. It was a hard battle, and the victory was pretty bittersweet. It's hard not to feel kind of angry after watching so many people die simply because the gods couldn't prioritize. But I'm a good Greek half-blood, and I follow orders…well, mostly. Still, afterwards, I couldn't help but feel fed up with the gods, camp, everything. Actually, I've felt that way for a while.

"I'm stepping down," I finally blurted. Chiron looked over, his expression one part mild surprise, three parts concern. The rest of the head counselors looked at each other, then back at me. There was an uneasy silence.

"How come, Jamey?" Katie finally asked, her voice full of concern. "You just got appointed."

Truth is, I wasn't really appointed. I just inherited the title of head counselor after Michael disappeared. I hoped that Michael would be found, but no such luck. Not long after the battle had ended, Hades had provided the gods with a list of casualties. Michael Yew was one of them. The only reason I qualified for the job was my age. I didn't think that was a good enough reason. The last thing this camp needed was someone like me in charge.

"I was thinking I'd go back to New Mexico," I said. Even in our informal meetings around the ping pong table, I still sat a little apart from the rest. Ever since last spring, people kept trying to make me feel included, but I still felt like an outsider. Actually, the effort had somewhat subsided since the Titan war. "With Percy's request to the gods, I have a feeling that we'll be getting a lot more kids to look after at Mom's place. She'll need all the help she can get."

This was true, of course. The gods were now required to claim their children by the age of thirteen, which meant that there'd be more satyrs than ever searching the world for these new demigods. I knew that a lot of them would be turning up at the Home for Orphaned Demigods in Santa Fe, New Mexico. At this point, there were only two other people working with my mom, and both of them were getting ready to go to college full-time. I knew it was my duty to help as much as possible, even if it meant leaving camp.

To be honest, though, it was also an excuse. I knew that it was time to leave. I'd spent a good chunk of my last high school semester and the whole summer at camp. I knew Chiron just wanted me to be in a safe place where I could be looked after, but really, all the checks and precautions were starting to get on my nerves.

Chiron still looked uneasy. "I'm sure Will Solace will be glad to take your place, and your mother will be more than happy to have you home to help. Your sense of duty is commendable. Hopefully the end of this war will bring a new wave of peace."

What he didn't say was: Maybe you'll be monitored more thoroughly now that we're not being threatened by titans. Around the table everybody nodded. The meeting continued with run-of-the-mill end of camp announcements. Camp had run a little later because of the war, but it had been fairly relaxing. Everyone was hoping that the big threats were over; that the Titan War was the worst we'd see for at least half a century. Nobody mentioned the prophecy that our new oracle, Rachel Dare, had spoken. For all we knew, it pertained to seven demigods who wouldn't emerge for years.

The meeting was dismissed and everyone went on to do different things. I caught a glimpse of Connor and Travis Stoll sneaking behind the Big House, but a few bad and awkward experiences had taught me not to investigate. Instead, I walked back to my own cabin, which shone so brightly in the sunlight that I couldn't even look at it. Inside, it was empty. I like the inside of the cabin better than the outside. Years ago, a head counselor got one of the Hephaestus kids to build us a recording studio in the back. We managed to fit a grand piano in there, even if it meant that our sleeping accommodations were a little cramped. I have so many great memories of composing and playing music with my siblings.

Of all the things I'd miss about camp, my siblings would definitely be at the top of the list. They were all show offs in their own way, whether it was with arrows, or music, or healing. But we looked after each other, and we had a great time together. I still felt my stomach turn when I thought about Lee Fletcher's death. He was the greatest sibling I could ask for. Even though he wasn't that much older than me, he'd taken care of me from the moment I got claimed.

Really, when I think about all the people who gave their lives to fight the titans, I feel selfish. Silena and Beckendorf were especially painful to think of. They'd both been nice to me from the beginning. They didn't pretend like everybody else. They didn't need an emergency to notice me.

I got to my bunk. I'd started packing that morning.

"Need a hand?"

I glanced up as Will came toward my bunk. I'd already told him about my leaving, and he'd nodded in understanding. I knew he'd do a better job than me anyway. He'd always been good at relating to people, and he was sure as hell a lot braver than me.

"I'm almost done," I replied. I didn't know if he was eager to see me go or not. Nowadays, most people treated me like a ticking bomb. We'd never been particularly close, even if he had been at camp for about as long as I had. He was the type to be surrounded by friends. He was sociable, relatable, understanding. Yeah, he was that type of guy. I was antisocial, awkward, and completely lacking in any sort of understanding. I can't explain why I'm like that. You'd think with a father like mine, I'd be all smiles and rainbows and shit like that. I used to wonder if Apollo had only claimed me accidentally. I was still waiting for him to pop up out of nowhere and say: Just kidding, you're actually Nemesis' kid. Sorry about that.

I closed up my suitcase. "You have everything you need?"

"You mean to be a counselor?" Will asked. "Yeah, I think I've got it down."

"Don't take any smartass answers," I said anyway. I took my prescription glasses off and cleaned them with my shirt. I've had bad eyesight since I was twelve. "And if they give you any sass, sic Clarisse on them. That should keep them in line."

Will laughed. "I don't see why people think you don't have a sense of humor."

I looked at him, and my deadpan expression told him I wasn't joking.

"We'll miss you, though," Will said. "Be safe."

"I'll keep my eyes open for threats," I replied, although I knew that's not what he meant. "Anyway, I may have to come back to visit." I swung my bow and quiver over my shoulder and put the suitcase on the floor, pulling out the handle.

"How are you getting home, anyway?" Will asked. "You just decided to leave this morning."

I shrugged. "Argus is driving me to Manhattan and from there I'll catch a bus or something. I have some money, and I'm in no hurry. I'll call my mom to come get me if I have to. It wouldn't be the first time she's had to drive cross-country to pick me up. Anyway, I can't take the chariot. It's yours now."

Will smiled. "Good luck, then. And listen, Jamey, if you ever need to talk, just…shoot me a message."

Will was just about the last person I'd want to talk to about anything personal, but I nodded and walked out the door, dragging my suitcase behind me. New cabins were being built all around for the newly claimed kids of minor gods. The last day of camp wasn't for another two days, but I didn't want to wait that long. I was getting claustrophobic even standing outside near the hearth. It was definitely time to go.

I said goodbye to Chiron. He offered to get me a plane ticket, and he was very insistent about having Argus chaperone me through the entire journey.

"Let the kid find his own way," Mr. D said, sipping Diet Coke on the porch of the Big House.

"Thank you, Mr. D." I said. As a rule, people didn't really get along with Mr. D. Still, he had been just about the only person (well, god, really) to not pity me in my shitty situation. You have to respect the ones who do that.

I walked up the hill. I'd planned on waiting for Argus at Thalia's pine tree. Of course, I wasn't anticipating the glowing Maserati or the surfer guy leaning against it. I recognized him right away. I'd never actually met Apollo, but I'd seen that carefree smile a thousand times on the faces of my siblings, and I'd just looked into those deep blue eyes ten minutes ago when I'd been talking to Will.

"Father," I said as I approached him.

"Hey kiddo," his smile was as bright as the sun. "Heard you were on your way home. Need a lift?"

I eyed his car critically, knowing fully well that it was actually the sun chariot. It seemed to be in mint condition, and it was just as hard to look at as Cabin 7. It was cherry red, and there didn't seem to be one scratch on it. It was not the way I wanted to get home.

"I'd rather walk," I replied, but Apollo was already stashing my suitcase in the trunk. I knew what this was about. Chiron had pulled in a last minute favor.

"Nonsense," Apollo replied. "Come, we'll have a nice chat. I hear you just graduated from high school. Truly exciting, isn't it? Granted, I never went to high school, but I'm sure the feeling is invigorating." He got into the driver's seat and beckoned me forward.

I finally climbed into the passenger's seat, feeling stupid. Here I was, practically an adult, and I was letting my father drive me home in a car that should've belonged to somebody three millennia younger than him. Seriously, he was supposed to be the mature one.

Apollo revved up the engine, although I knew he was just doing it for show, and the sun chariot took off, flying over Long Island. I leaned over to look at the ground below me. I was a little nervous about the height, but after spending so much time on the flying chariot back at camp, I'd gotten used to the feeling.

"So, any plans for your newfound adulthood?" Apollo asked.

"What, like college?" I asked. "No, not really. I was just going to help Mom out at home."

"Seems a little…"

I turned to glare at him. "What?"

"What? Nothing!" He pulled out a pair of shades and put them on. He looked more like an actor in a rebellious teenage drama than a responsible parent. "I was just thinking, you know, since you were second in your class and all. And you got all those awards from your school. Really, you got pretty far if you ask me." He didn't mention the other stuff that I'd done right before the end of school.

I suddenly felt self-conscious. "How do you know about that?"

Apollo smiled. "Hey, I look out for you, James. You're a smart kid, and you've got the makings of greatness in you."

"Oh gods…" I was about to hear The Speech again. I'd only ever heard my mom say it, but Apollo's tone of voice definitely indicated that there would be a lecture to follow.

"You could do anything if you set your mind to it," he started saying. "Maybe use the talents you inherited from me. You could be a doctor."

"Blood makes me queasy." It was a touchy subject.

"Um," Apollo's eyes narrowed a little. "Okay, well, you're a great musician."

"Not a sound profession in today's economy."

"Really, kiddo," my dad was still smiling, but I knew he was wavering. "Well, what's your heart telling you?"

"It's telling me to go home and help Mom," I replied. "Somebody's gotta do it. Kendra's off to school, and so is Marty. Last I heard we have eight kids at the home, and more coming in."

Apollo nodded. "Chiron's right, you are a very dutiful young man."

"Dutiful," I muttered. Yeah, if it weren't for my sense of duty, I might've joined the titan side in the war. I knew that most people had expected me to do that.

I looked down again. I didn't know where we were, but there was a forest passing below us at hurtling speed. I took my bow off my shoulder and pulled an arrow out of my quiver. I undid my seatbelt and leaned out of the car, aiming for a tree below. We were going fast, but I have a good eye for targets, and even hundreds of feet in the air I could see where I wanted to hit. I pulled the arrow back and shot.

"Odd place for target practice," Apollo remarked, but I ignored him. I was already climbing over into the back seats. I'd done this hundreds of times on the flying chariot, but that didn't go nearly as fast as the sun chariot. I shot a volley of arrows, one after the other.

"Well, you have a lot of talent," Apollo said. "I'm sure there's quite a few things you could get involved in."

"Really, Father, what's the big deal?" I clambered back the the front of the car. "So I don't know what I want to do yet."

"I just want to make sure that you at least have a plan," Apollo said. "I mean, look at your sister. She seems to know what she's doing."

I rolled my eyes. "Since when does smoking marijuana and dating a million boys constitute as having your shit together?"

Apollo gave me a look and sighed. "Okay." He backed down and we drove in silence for a little while. We shot through the flatness of the Midwest, passing fields of wheat and barley and about fifty different dairy farms and cattle ranches. As soon as we hit the New Mexico border, though, the landscape changed to rolling desert.

Most people don't really understand New Mexico. Hell, most people don't even know that New Mexico is actually a state in the Union. I've had countless experiences of going to different states and being asked really stupid questions like: "So do you speak Spanish?" "Did you have to get a passport to come here?" "Have you ever seen snow?" "What's the coldest it gets there? Sixty degrees?"

What people don't know is that New Mexico isn't just hot desert. This land has character. It isn't all just yellow sand. There's the endless blue of the sky above, the rosy tint of the mountains when the sun sets, the blues and greens of shrubs and trees that reflect in the horizon. Granted, I've always called it the Land of Entrapment, but I do love coming home to it. It's like greeting an old friend I didn't even know I was missing.

"Here we are," Apollo said pleasantly. "Home, sweet home."

The chariot landed in the driveway, and if it weren't for the Mist, I have a feeling that any mortal passing by would've had a heart attack. Of course, there weren't many mortals around anyway. The Home was almost big enough to be called a mansion, and it stood at the top of a hill overlooking Tesuque. The nearest house was about a mile down the road.

I was expecting Apollo to simply drop me off, but instead, he took my suitcase for me and walked inside. My golden retriever, Laney, barked and tried to tackle him, but with a wave of his hand, the dog ran off.

The Apollo Home for Orphaned Demigods used to be my grandparents' house. They had it built back in the seventies, not long after my mom was born. After their deaths and a large amount of legal battles and lawyer fees, my mother inherited, added on to, and opened it up for business. At any given time, there was at least one orphan living with us, but we'd been known to have up to ten.

The Home has lots of bedrooms, three bathrooms, a huge backyard, and no television. Mom has a lot of really strict rules. Technology is one of them. It's not just that some forms of technology practically give our location away to every monster in the vicinity. My mom just doesn't like the idea of killing brain cells while watching TV. Thus, kids who come to us learn early on the entertaining powers of reading, listening to music, and pulling pranks on one another, because really, what else can you do?

I followed Apollo into the kitchen, where my mom was very effectively not looking like a 1950s housewife making dinner. That's what I like about my mom. She doesn't give two shits about looking decent, so long as the job gets done. As long as I've been alive, I've never seen my mom with long hair. She always wears it short. She doesn't dye it, pin it, or change it in any way. As far as I know she's never worn a dress in her life, and I don't think she's ever owned any sort of makeup.

Somehow, it was hard thinking about her and Apollo together, especially because Apollo is so well-groomed and I can't imagine him ever doing any sort of manual labor. My mom, on the other hand, doesn't mind getting her hands dirty. We've never needed to hire a plumber or an electrician because she knows how to fix just about anything. Even as I walked into the kitchen, my mom was on her knees fixing the garbage disposal.

Still, I know that Apollo didn't date her for her fixing skills. My mother used to be a musician. She gave it up around the time I started going to camp because she wanted to devote more time to the Home. I can't say I blame her. It's not like we're wanting for money or anything, since we have a deal with the Olympians and all. But being a musician is rough, especially in a city that doesn't support the arts as much as it should. My mom was tired of the politics within the orchestra in which she played. She kept saying that it undermined the integrity of the art.

My mom grumbled a little bit. She reached for the wrench, but she couldn't get it while holding the pipes together. She looked up, finally noticing us, and smiled.

"Baby!" She said when she saw me. "You weren't supposed to be back until Sunday. Can you hand me that wrench?"

I crouched down, grabbed the wrench, and handed it to Mom. "I decided to come back early."

"Did something happen?" Mom asked, and her tone was suddenly concerned. Her face went into Red Alert mode as her eyes traveled to Apollo, who gave her a kind smile.

"No," I said quickly. Best to avoid any bad questions. "I just…thought I'd come help you out."

"Oh good," Mom tightened the pipe and pulled herself up, wiping some grime off her shirt. "In that case, run to the garage and put these tools back while I talk to your father."

Great. That's why Apollo came back. They were going to have a talk, and no doubt, it was going to be about me. I grabbed the toolbox and headed for the garage, passing a few our current tenants on the way. Marty and Kendra were on the floor of our very spacious living room playing Mythomagic with some of the kids. They both looked up when I very subtly tried to sneak by.

"Jamey-cakes!" Kendra said, depositing her cards onto the floor. She was very clearly going to tackle me, so I backed up into the wall and tried not to scream. My sister hugged me for a good minute even though we'd seen each other at the beginning of the summer, and I tried very hard not to kick her. She didn't exactly understand the concept of personal space.

Marty came up to shake my hand, but remembered quickly that I don't like to be touched, so he settled for smiling at me. He was a demigod who'd actually survived to adulthood, but he was the son of Demeter, so none of us really found it surprising. He liked working for my mom because he seemed to have some sort of philosophy about raising children being no different from tending crops. He was pretty good at both, so none of us ever really said anything.

"Thank the gods you got here," Marty said. He'd dyed his hair blonde recently. It looked good. "We just got a new girl who has horrible attitude problems. It's taking all of us to control her, and Kendra and I are leaving for college in a few days. Your mom will need all the help she can get."

Marty and Kendra were both twenty years old, and they'd both skipped two years between high school and college – Marty because he wanted some time to get some money together, Kendra because she's a nonconformist with nothing better to do.

"Dad's in the kitchen," was all I said. I wasn't interested in catching up or gossiping or anything. I sure wasn't interested in anybody asking about how I'd been doing, and if I was okay or not. I was going to put these tools away, then I was going to talk to this new girl who everyone else seemed to have a problem with. Maybe I could help her adjust.

The garage is a separate building. I don't know why people build houses that way, but they seem to think it's fancy, because you see it a lot in richer neighborhoods. I opened the door into the backyard and walked across the sand towards the side entrance of the garage building, which was almost big enough to store an eighteen-wheeler. My backyard fits the desert stereotypes. It's full of rough sand and about twenty different types of weeds. My mom often asked Marty to come out here and do something about it, but no sooner would he have the yard cleared and growing fresh grass than a new wave of weeds would destroy his work.

Still, the yard was big enough to sustain a barbeque pit, a deck table and chairs, a full-sized trampoline, and a fully equipped obstacle course and archery range. We may have been cutting into somebody else's property with those last two, but nobody ever bothered us about it. Through the years, people had learned not to complain.

I opened the garage door, deposited the toolbox on one of the shelves, and noticed a figure sitting in the shadows. Ah, this must be the new girl.

I stepped inside and looked down at her.

"Odd place to hide," I said. "Aren't you hot?"

The girl didn't reply. She seemed to be shocked that I was even speaking to her at all. Seems nobody else had tried that in a while.

"Why don't you come inside?" I asked. "Want some lemonade? What's your name?"

The girl looked away. "No," she said. She sounded young. I couldn't see her very well in the shadows, but she must've been eight or nine years old, at least.

"Hello No," I said. "My name's Jamey. I'm the angry one. How are you?"

The girl faltered. "N-no." Apparently that's all she knew how to say.

"Yes, No," I said. "Sometimes people are jerks. Do you want to hear about all the jerks in my life?"

"No," she said, but not defiantly. She just sounded like she had nothing better to say. The girl actually stood up, ready to follow me. We walked out of the garage, and I got a good look at her.

She was very, very thin, with stringy brown hair and black eyes. She had more than a few bruises on her arms and face, which was pretty common in new arrivals. The thing that most people get wrong is that these kids don't need to be pitied, but they don't need to be treated like problems either. They deserve respect, no matter how long it takes them to adjust. I don't know if I could've ever survived as an orphan.

I led the girl back into the kitchen, catching my parents in the middle of a discussion that stopped abruptly as soon as I entered. My mom looked slightly taken aback when I entered with the new girl in tow. She wordlessly sat down at the kitchen table and I went to dig around in the fridge. We always kept pitchers of lemonade or some sort of juice. I pulled out the pitcher of what looked like blue Kool-Aid and looked at the girl.

"It's all we've got, you down?"

"No," she said, but her eyes shone with interest. I pulled down two cups and poured the blue liquid into each, setting one down in front of the girl. She took it gratefully and began to drink. Mom looked at me with pride, and Apollo smiled.

"I think it's time I was off," Apollo said, but I wasn't paying attention to him. The girl had bits of twigs and cottonwood fluff in her hair, which I began to pick out gingerly. She didn't object. "I have a graduation present for you, James."

He held out his hand, in which a quiver of arrows suddenly appeared. They were solid gold, and they seemed to be giving off a sort of soft glow. It was the first gift I'd ever received from my father.

"Thanks," I said, not knowing if I meant it. Some of my mortal friends had mostly gotten money for graduation. One of my classmates had received a new car. And here was my father handing me his gift like Hey, good luck in life! Here're a few deadly weapons!

I didn't grab for them, though. After a moment, Apollo simply put them on the kitchen table. He looked at Mom, and she came forward, laying her hand gently on the little girl's shoulder.

"Do you want to go to the living room, sweetheart?" She asked kindly.

"No!" The girl said, and I knew that she meant it this time. Mom sighed and left the room. It's not like the girl was very interested anyway. To be honest, I'd rather have been in her shoes.

"I want you to know, Jamey," Apollo said, and his tone was softer, more fatherly than before. "I'm really proud of you. No matter what you choose to do, I'm really glad to have a son like you. You just have to, you know, find your place. You see, when I was a kid–"

I crossed my arms, my eyes on the quiver of arrows that he'd just given me. "Dad, not all of us can slay pythons, or bargain with the Fates, or send plagues to enemies. Some of us are just…normal."

So he hugged me, and it was awkward. I stiffened. I hated it, hated it when people hugged me.

"You'll find your place, son. I know you will." Another way of saying you'll probably just end up washed up and useless.

With that, he walked out. I heard the sound of the sun chariot's engine roaring to life. Not a beat later, Kendra walked into the room.

"What, he's gone already?" She sounded incredibly disappointed. "What am I, chopped liver?" She looked at me critically. "What did he even say to you?"

"Just…hello," I said, because I didn't want to talk about how my parents had been talking about me in low voices, as if I were an inconvenience rather than their son. And I didn't want to talk about the most likely magical gift he'd given me, although to hell if I knew what these arrows could do. Michael Yew had once had a quiver of sonic arrows, although they hadn't looked quite the same as these did. Anyway, I was set to be a babysitter for the rest of my life. Why would I need these?

"What, Apollo can't spare some words of advice to his college-bound daughter? Well hey, at least you got her out of the garage," Kendra said, nodding towards the brown-haired girl, who was currently trying to look as small as possible. "She threw a tantrum this morning and hasn't been out since. She just got here two days ago. She still hasn't even told us her name."

I looked back at the girl. "When she's ready she'll say."

"Uhu," Kendra didn't look very happy at all. As far as I knew, she'd only spoken to Apollo once on a trip to Olympus, and not for very long. It's hard to get some alone time with your godly parent, especially when he has so many other kids to try and make feel special. I didn't count myself lucky, though. A visit from the gods isn't always a good thing. Actually, I was starting to think that there was a specific reason why Apollo had given me those arrows.

"Don't you think it's kind of weird that the only kids you're actually good with are the ones who are just as depressed as you are?" Kendra asked, then she caught herself. "Shit, you know I didn't mean…" I shook my head. She needed to stop talking. I knew she was looking at my arms right now. Gods, didn't anybody in this family trust me?

Kendra got into these moods sometimes. She was pretty weird, emotionally. She ranged from I'm going to tackle Jamey and tell him how much I love him because he's the best little brother! to I'm going to make Jamey feel so bad about himself, he'll need intensive care and year of rehab to recover. I think my sister got a dose of bipolar disorder in addition to the complementary ADHD and dyslexia that came with being a demigod.

I'd spent quite a few years of my childhood thinking that I was adopted. It wasn't difficult to imagine, seeing as I looked nothing like my mom and sister. Whereas they both had black hair and brown eyes, I was born with rust red hair and blue eyes. I didn't even think I was a demigod for a long time, because I didn't have any showing powers. Kendra was born with the gift of music. She picked up a cello when she was four and has been playing like a pro ever since. She was also good at any sport you pointed her at, and she could even curse people to speak in rhymes if she wanted to.

I didn't show any traits of the demigodly persuasion until much later. Even when I went to camp, most people had trouble believing that I was Apollo's son. The most embarrassing experience of my life was when Kendra was claimed at the campfire about two days after we arrived at Camp Half-Blood. I was so happy and excited when the other Apollo campers came to greet her and help her move her stuff into Cabin 7, because I thought it meant that I'd be coming, too. We were siblings after all. But Apollo hadn't claimed me, only Kendra. According to the rules I still had to stay in the Hermes cabin.

I'd cried all night. The other Hermes campers were probably really annoyed, but nobody told me to be quiet because they were all so shocked. I knew that a lot of them started whispering about the possibility of me actually being a mortal who was just brought here by mistake, even if that was technically impossible. For days I prayed for Apollo to claim me. I felt like crying every time I saw my sister practicing archery or eating at the dining pavilion with her new friends, having a great time. Even when I finally got claimed, it wasn't the same. Everyone in Cabin 7 already thought I was a whining crybaby, and my sister was more than fed up with me.

Kendra finally saw that her comments were getting nowhere with me. For once, Apollo had paid attention to me and not to her, and she just had to deal with that. She left the kitchen, leaving me with the little girl whose favorite word was just one syllable.

I smiled at her. "That's my sister. She loves me. I think."

The girl looked at me with a look that said: and I thought I had it bad.

"Alright, No," I said, putting her empty cup in the sink. "We have some time before dinner and my inevitable talk about my instability with my mom, so what do you want to do?"

"No!" I looked back at her, and she looked insulted at my using her favorite word as her name.

I pushed my glasses higher on my nose. "Tell me your name, then."

The girl looked down, embarrassed. I wondered what kind of tantrum she'd been throwing earlier. She looked fairly calm to me, although there was a certain glint in her eyes that suggested a far, far wilder side.

"Eileen," she finally managed, and I hardly heard it.

"Eileen?" I asked. I smiled. "I love that song. Well, come on, Eileen. Let's find something to do with this gift of mine."

Again, please review if you like it and would like to see more of it. If not, don't worry about it. I have more important things to do anyway. That being said, I am on my third week of college, so if you have any questions about that (especially if you're still in high school and want to know what the transition is like), I can give you advice and so forth. I do live on campus, I'm in the honors program, I'm in choir, and I'm doing some community service projects, so I can give you a whole range of advice concerning college. Also, if you're further along in college and would like to give me survival tips, that's also appreciated. Happy fall!