The Love Club

by NotsoSugarQueen

It was easier to give in to the stereotype. For the first time the weight of the expectations was gone. All I had to be was a pretty face, caked in make-up, and a voice laced with lies. And the girl that I can sometimes remember being, the one who played piano and cared about grades, was dead and buried inside, locked up so tight I didn't think I could ever get her back. Until now.

1. Chapter 1

The Love Club-

A.N.: So I really needed to write this. Like, badly. It's not going to be a main priority, but I was listening to this song, and it just went so well with Drew. And all the stories and hate that she gets is sucky, but her character in Lost Hero deserves it. But no one really delves into Drew Tananka beyond that bitchfest with Piper over Jason. So I decided to give her a story. Here goes nothing.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned PJO, because if I did, I'd know if Percy and Annabeth are okay!

Preface: Drew's Perspective

There are times in my life when I think of how things may have been different. It's always late, and I'm always struck by insomnia, staring up at the posters of mortal celebrities and fashion designers that paper my bunk in the Aphrodite Cabin. Cabin Ten. The cabin that for a period of time was mine.

I'm not jealous, not anymore. Not really.

But no one needs to know that.

Because when it comes down to it, am I anything more than a pretty, make-up caked face among hundreds? I'm that bitch that hooked up with the jock in the janitor's closet. The one who wears short skirts and Gucci heels and could care less about her grade in Algebra.

Yeah. You know her.

The saddest part is, I don't even know if I want to be that girl. But I've been her for so long, I don't think I know how to be anyone else. It's like I was invited to a masked ball—but the invitations came in the form of flashing lights, parties, cute guys and designer clothes. I wanted to be pretty. I wanted to be popular. But now the ball is over. And problem is, I can't take the mask off.

So while I'm laying there, in my silky Paris nightgown, my sleeping mask pushed back from my eyes, staring at the ceiling, I wonder what it would've been like if Aphrodite hadn't been my mom. Because the problem with Cabin Ten, is the stereotyping you receive. And after awhile, I forgot about that girl I used to be, the one who played piano and kept her make-up down to a swipe of lip gloss and some mascara. The one who owned one pair of heels, and didn't drench herself in Chanel perfume everyday.

She's gone now, dead and buried somewhere inside my soul, locked up so tightly I don't think I could ever get her out again. Because it was easier to give up fighting, to blend in with the crowd. Why bother trying? It was easier to succumb to being a walking, talking Barbie doll because I didn't have to get good grades, or get first place at a piano competition or be nice. I could be what everyone expected me to be.

A bitch.

And no one really cares.

And that's what I always thought.

How wrong I was.

That was the preface. Interesting? Well, keep on reading, please! If you haven't check out some of my other stories if you will! I'm going to update Roadtrip! and What to Expect When You're Expecting: Demigod Edition soon, so keep an eye out for the new chapters! I'm suffering a teensy bit of writer's block at the moment, but I'm hoping I can squeeze in one or the other this weekend, and then the opposite one the weekend after. But my Nutcracker rehearsals are starting, and I have a solo (if you're curious, look up Arabian nutcracker dance, and I'll be doing a less complicated version of the super professional one, since, sadly, there's no one to carry me around the stage on their shoulder) so I'll be in time crunches to get all this stuff done. But I promise to try my best to make it happen. Please review, and love you all!

Xoxo-notsoSugarQueen