Listen very carefully.

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Don't make a sound.

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Don't even blink.

Because in a blink of an eye, your life can change. Like mine did.

My name is Percie Jackson. And I never wanted to be a Half-blood. But I didn't have a choice. It all added up. The ADHD, the Dyslexia, the… strange occurrences. And there was no denying it when we took a trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman artifacts.

To the normal, hyperactive teen, this trip would sound like torture. Luckily, or luckily, I'm not the normal teen. I LOVE mythology. My mother had told me all the tales of Greek and Roman mythology as bedtime stories for as long as I could remember, and, when she couldn't any longer, I took it upon myself to struggle through as many books as I could to learn everything I could about it.

It's only a bonus that Mr. Brunner, my Latin teacher, not to mention favorite teacher, is in charge of this trip. So I had high hopes that no unfortunate accident would happen on this trip.

I may or may not be considered a bad kid because of some past experiences. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. It's not like I was trying to hit the bus, and nobody was inside it, but, of course, I still got expelled. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, the weird boy who worked there, who had black hair, green eyes, and looked maybe 18, told me to hit the wrong lever, and we took an unplanned swim. And of course, nobody believes me when I told them about the boy. Bunch of….

Anyway, I was determined to do no wrong this trip.

On the bus ride to the Museum, I put up with that bi- ahem, I mean, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, a freckled, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Before I get to talking about that cheeto dusted fool, let me tell you about Grover. Grover… he's pretty easy to pick on. He's skinny, cries when he's frustrated, and he must have been held back several times because he's the only 6th grader who had acne and the beginnings of a wispy goatee. And, I love Grover, I do, but…. He's kinda strange. And I'm not talking about the muscular disease in his legs (Duchenne muscular dystrophy, I looked it up after we met), I'm talking about other stuff. Like how he never takes of his hat, how when it's raining he always smells faintly of wet barnyard animal, how I've caught him talking with animals, and holding actual conversations with them, and how even though he takes each step as if it hurts him, when enchiladas are mentioned, he runs faster than any other kid in school.

Anyway, Nancy Hobofit was throwing chunks that stuck in the curly brown hair that was still showing under his hat, and that brat looked so smug. She knew I couldn't do anything. I was on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip. He had had it in for me ever since I threatened to tell the police when he tried to make a move on me.

"I'm going to murder her," I growled.

I made sure she could hear me. She went pale and her aim was off. I grinned when I heard the wet plop of the piece on the floor of the bus. I guess it was pretty scary because she clutched her friend's arm and I could see the bruise forming. I grinned wider.

But Grover, being the sweetheart he is, tried to calm me down. "It's okay, I like peanut butter."

"In your hair, Grover, really?"

Another piece hit.

"That's it." I started to get up, but Grover grabbed my arm.

"Percie-"

"Let. Me. Go."

A dazed look comes over his face, and if I wasn't so angry, I probably would have been worried. His grip loosened for a moment, but before I could pull my arm away, his grip tightened. He quickly pulled me back down into the seat.

"Percie, you're already in trouble with the Headmaster"- I flinch- "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Looking back, I wished I had thrown her out of the bus then because if there was any chance the bus would hit her, I want to be the one driving.

With that wonderful thought in mind, I followed Mr. Brunner off the bus.

He was in the front, his wheelchair easily staying ahead of the stupid boys trying to jerk his wheels to a stop.

We passed tons of artifacts without a problem. It's really cool how these things have lasted centuries.

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say because I had never heard of this girl before, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs, Dodds is a wrinkly old bat who I'm surprised has a husband. She's our math teacher, who moved from Georgia. And she always wore a black leather jacket, even though she had to be over 50 years old. She had come to school after the last math teacher had a nervous breakdown, but, who could blame him?

But what truly sucks, is that I would love Mrs. Dodds… if not for the fact that on her first day she thought Nancy was an angel and I was devil-spawn. Bitch….

You know, one time she had me working off a detention until midnight? Total bull.

The next time I saw Grover I told him I didn't think she was human. Then, he looked at me all serious and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art, which was kinda weird because he's a Latin teacher, but whatever.

And then, Nancy snickered something about the naked guy on the Steele, and I turned around saying, "Bitch, if you don't-"

"Miss Jackson, is there a problem?"

My face was totally red. I said, "No, sir."

"Good, then you can tell us what this picture depicts?"

With a quick glance to the picture, I immediately relax, I knew this.

"Kronos, the Titan king, had married his sister Rhea, nasty, and he had six kids with her. Hestia was the first, then Hera and Demeter. Then came the boys, Hades the eldest boy, Poseidon, and finally Zeus. The first five children were eaten, eaten? Consumed by Kronos, again, nasty,"

"Like you!" some girl snarked behind me. I flipped her off behind my back.

"Because Kronos had been given a prophecy from his father, Uranus, that one day his own children would overthrow him. When Zeus was born, he resembled a rock so much that when Rhea gave Kronos a rock instead he ate that!" thunder rumbled, "Anyway, when Zeus was older, he gave Kronos a concoction so vile, that Kronos barfed up his sibling, in the reverse order they were born. Then they did go to war in which Zeus and his siblings won, and they become the Olympian council, with Zeus and his brothers becoming the Big Three. Although later, Hades was kicked off the council."

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Miss. Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover muttered.

"Shut up," Nancy hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair. Which should be impossible.

At least she got caught by Mr. Brunner too. He's the only person who doesn't think poor, sweet Nancy is being constantly attacked by the ruthless, boorish Persephone Jackson, whose name is almost always a curse. Or a warning.

I thought about the question. It was pretty stupid considering Nancy asked it, but I think I know the answer he wanted.

"That would be a good question if we were in ancient Greece. Back then, when demigods were around to do the gods biding, they would have to know this stuff, for them, it would be the difference between life and death."

"Nerd!" someone hissed.

I ignored them.

Mr. Brunner's prideful look was mixed with disappointment.

"Ah, yes. While there was a better answer, you were correct. So, let's go have lunch, shall we? Mrs. Dodds, may you please lead us outside?"

The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like idiots.

The class gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seemed worried, so I didn't mention it.

Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school-the school where that impossible girl, Jackson, goes to.

If only I wasn't that impossible girl.

I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. She'd hug me and be glad to see me, but she'd be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table.

I was about to throw away my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly ass friends-I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists-and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth.

I tried to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I was so mad my mind went blank.

A wave roared in my ears. I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percie pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see-"

"-the water-"

"- as it grabbed her-"

I didn't know what they were talking about. All I knew was that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure the poor little brat was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey-"

"Don't "honey" me!" I knew I shouldn't have snapped, but I was suddenly feeling very very pissed and tired of everything.

That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said.

"Wait!" Grover yelped. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stared at him, stunned. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.

"But-"

"You-will-stay-here."

He looked at me fearfully, but I could barely notice due to how hard I was glaring at Nancy.

I made sure she knew I would be back for her.

Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

There's no way her old lady hips could get her up there so fast.

I have moments like that a lot when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I don't think there was a moment where I doubted that more than I did now.

Halfway up the steps, I looked back at Grover. He was scared and kept glancing at Mr. Brunner as if he wanted him to do something.

With one last look at Mrs. Dodds retreating back, I ran back down the stairs to Mr. Brunner. Knowing Mrs. Dodds, she would have me do something with writing or reading just to get a laugh. Because watching a child struggle with a mental disorder is so fucking funny.

"Mr. Brunner!" his eyes slowly came up from his book to rest on me.

"Yes, child?"

"Can I borrow a pencil?" his eyebrow raised, then his gaze drifted to a dripping Nancy and to where Mrs. Dodds was shooting reproachful looks at me.

"Hmm. I see. Well, I don't have a pencil, but I do have a pen." I take it with a nod and turn to go, but before I could start walking away, Mr. Brunner called my attention back to him.

"But, Percie, do only up cap the pen when you absolutely need it."

I thought that was a little strange, but agreed anyway.

I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

'Good,' i thought, 'She's going to make me buy Nancy Hobofit another shirt. Everybody knows that girl needs a better shirt.

But no, sadly, that wasn't the plan.

I followed her deeper into the museum. When I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

We were the only people in the gallery. The mood was a lot soberer when there weren't 28 kids who have problems staying out of trouble.

Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling. She sounded like a dog with rabies. It did nothing to help my nerves.

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she said.

I should do the safe thing. No point in making it worse.

"My name is not Honey!" I snapped. '...So much for not making it worse….'

She tugged on her jacket cuffs so hard I thought I heard a seam pop, but other than that, she ignored my comment.

"Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil.

I narrowed my eyes, I didn't know what she was talking about, but it was pissing me off.

I said, "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, can I go?"

Thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Percie Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

My grip tightened on the pen, and, against better judgment, I took a step closer.

"I will repeat, I have no idea what you're talking about, but what I do know is, if you even attempt to touch me with those claws, it won't be pretty. Although, you have to be used to that idea."

"Your time is up, daughter of Poseidon" she hissed.

Then the fucking scariest thing started to happen.

Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then, I got the weirdest urge to uncap the pen. So, I did.

Then it was a sword-Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.

I did what any absolutely not normal person would have done. I swung and as soon as it severed threw her neck (she burst into a golden power, which my first thought was 'Pretty!'), a blinding pain raced up my arm, I dropped the sword, screaming.

Soon, I fell to the floor, and when the darkness that was gathered at the corner of my eyes started to spread, I saw what looked like the legs of a horse as I felt somebody pick me up.

And I gave in to the darkness.