Full Plot: To Ophelia Jaycee Abbots, life was normal. She lived with her mum in a nice flat in London, she went to school with normal people her age, and nothing was out of the ordinary. That is, until she reached her 16th birthday. That was when things started to change. She could swear she heard a man talking to her whenever she needed someone other than her mother to talk to. It was definitely freaky. Something happened while on a class visit to the National History Museum. Then she found out that her father was actually a Greek God.
Disclaimer: As I am not male, nor am I American, I do not own the PJO series. I only own Ophelia, Toni, Jaycee and other characters that are not in the original series.
My name is Ophelia Jaycee Abbotts. I'm not your average 16 year old. For one, I have ADHD and Dyslexia, so it's hard for me to sit still for more than 10 minutes, and it's hard for me to learn in school. I love learning, so it's hard on me. I was brought up by my mother, Jaycee Abbotts, in a large apartment in London. I've lived there all my life. I never knew my father, but he's left us some things – some money (Okay, a lot of money), poetry books, musical instruments and some very useful medicine. I didn't know what it was all about, but I didn't question it. At even the thought of my father, mum would burst out crying. Maybe he died or something.
He must have died recently, though, because I received a few odd gifts from him on my 16th birthday, which was yesterday; two identical chopsticks, a bow with a quiver (arrowless), a diamond bracelet, and some really nice ancient Greek styled clothes – some of them used in battles. I know what you're thinking: "Why are they so odd?" Simple – the chopsticks, bow and quiver are pure silver with intricate designs on them, like ivy or a laurel that was straightened out. The bracelet was also silver and the diamonds formed a similar design. Whenever I took off the bracelet, it would always appear back on my wrist within seconds, as if I didn't take it off to begin with. What kind of father would give his daughter these gifts? I mean, sure, my archery is the best anyone has ever seen, but I can be extremely klutzy. I don't even trust myself with plastic scissors.
The same message would be written on old paper. It was confusing and in a language that I understood, but my mother couldn't read.
For the one who heals
For the one who will save the
World. My daughter. Dad.
It was... confusing. I didn't understand what it was talking about. Saving the world? Healing? That does not sound like me at all. I wanted to ask my dad what the message meant. How could I save the world? He must be thinking of another daughter he has.
I was looking forward to school today. We were going to the National History Museum for History class, to see the new Ancient Greece exhibition that opened yesterday. I have always loved reading about Ancient Greece and all their myths. I know about every God, Minor and Olympian, the Titans, monsters, and more. It's been a fascination of mine since I was young. I share this fascination with Toni, my best friend. While my favourite Gods are Athena (For her wisdom), Hades (Because he's misunderstood) and Apollo (Because somehow, I have a weird connection with him), Toni admires Pan. Don't get me wrong, Toni's a great guy and all, but once you start talking about nature and Pan, it's like hearing a fan girl talk about some stupid celebrity like Robert Pattinson (major bleugh, by the way). He just won't shut up.
Have I told you about my mum? She's a doctor at the John Radcliffe hospital in Oxford, so she has to leave super early in the mornings and comes home really late at night. She has brain cancer, but she refuses treatment. She says that she was given this illness for a reason, so she just grows sicker each day, waiting for death. I hate it. I try to give her the medicine dad gave us, but she won't take it. Even if she did, I honestly believe that it wouldn't work anyway.
"OJ, hurry up!" The deep voice that belonged to Toni pulled me away from my thoughts. Somehow, while I Was thinking, I managed to leave my apartment (changed out of my ducky pyjamas and into my totally awesome outfit; bright purple skinny jeans, black knee top converses and a one-shouldered toga-like shirt that balled up at my hips – similar to the togas Greek Gods/Goddesses would wear, but in t-shirt form) and arrived at the National History Museum with my history class.
When I get into my thoughts, I really do stay there until Toni or someone else pulls me away from them.
"Oh, Sorry," I apologised as I jogged up to the entrance and held the door open for Toni. Bless him; he has something wrong with his legs, so he can't walk properly. He has to use crutches to walk around, mainly because he feels stupid in a wheelchair.
When we caught up with the rest of our class, our teacher, Professor Dunstance, was talking (more like droning) about Zeus, Poseidon and Hades. I mean no offence to him, he's the best teacher we've ever had, even if he is wheelchair bound, but I wondered off, away from the class and Toni. I already knew everything about The Big Three, and everything else. Besides, I was more of a 'wander round and look' type of person, rather than a 'stand and listen' type of person.
I stopped in front of a replica of Apollo's Lyre, covered by what looked like an extremely heavy glass box. I stared at my reflection in the glass. My hair, usually long, curly and sandy blonde, was tied into a bun, secured by the two chopsticks. I recently dyed my hair electric blue, which brought out my green eyes – my mum and Toni commented on how they were the same colour as bay leaves one too many times. My skin was lightly tanned, most probably from all the sunbathing I did at the weekend.
I looked away from the lyre and my reflection as I heard a noise from the empty exhibit room beside me. I looked around cautiously, making sure that no-one was watching me before I slipped through the heavy doors.
The room was full of wooden boxes, holding more artefacts that had yet to be put out on display. I yearned to see what was inside them, but I daren't. Knowing me, I would break them before I even had the chance to open the box.
I heard the noise again, making me look towards the far end of the large room. I then heard a noise from behind me, causing me to turn on my heels, only to be met with the pale white wall, centimetres from my face. I was beginning to become more than a little scared. The noises continued to echo around the room, almost as if it was jumping from one place to the next. I didn't know where to look; left or right, front or behind, up or down.
"We've found her. Now, if we can just get her unconscious, taking her back to the Camp wouldn't be as difficult as Toni said." I looked at the window opposite me when I heard the whispering. The owner of the voice sounded like a girl, from America, maybe. I heard the sound of Lego being snapped together, but I knew that it wasn't Lego. It was something else. "Be ready to catch her, Sky."
Before I took a step towards the window, something hit me in the neck. I looked down, seeing that a small, thin wooden stick had hit my neck. A tranquilizer. I collapsed onto my knees, hearing Toni call my name before I couldn't see or hear or feel anymore.
Author's note: Hi. Sorry if that was a pretty crappy chapter. I wanted to get it right, after many, many times of rewriting and redrafting. I hope that it is fine. I think you can tell who Ophelia's father is, I mean, I left a few hints in there.
Please be nice. (:
Oh, and about my thing about Robert? Take no offence if you're a fan of his. I can't stand him, and that is my opinion. So if I receive hate comments about it, then you guys are pretty stupid.