AN: This is my Percy Jackson original character story. I don't quite have a reason for a quest yet, though I know who is going on it, so feel free to give me ideas. Here we go.

Chapter 1

Near Death Experience

I pinched the bridge of my nose. My reading comprehension class was hell on my dyslexia. How I was passing that class was a complete mystery. Sighing, I went back to reading my book except it looked like the letters were square dancing. I shut the book and slammed it on my desk. My classmates glared at me as I leaned back. "Myea," called my teacher, Ms. Zolif. "May I speak with you outside for a moment?" When we were safely in the hallway, Ms. Zolif sighed. "You can't keep doing this Myea. You have to work hard-"

"You don't think I am?" I almost yelled at her. "I've barely read six chapters in a trimester. Every five minutes the letters start swimming so bad I can barely distinguish them." I got distracted then by this red balloon attached to someone's locker and my argument fell apart.

"You can't spend your life making excuses for your own failures." The woman looked furious. Personally, I found her comment to be very unprofessional. At the moment, however, I was too pissed to think.

"You can spend your life hoping someone finds you beautiful." I didn't even look at her as I walked back into the classroom. Now, you have to understand, I'm not usually such a bitch. I was having a day, and besides, she probably deserved it. You see, this wasn't the only time she had hurt me. It's the spring trimester (my last trimester in school, actually) and I walk into class. This woman (if that's what she is; I'm paranoid so I have my doubts) shoots me this death glare. She's been trying to destroy my confidence ever since. She tortures my dyslexic, yells at me when I get distracted due to my ADHD, and insults me to my face. I won't switch out. I graduate in a few days and I WON'T give her the satisfaction. So if I hurt her feelings, I don't really give a shit. I left for lunch in a bad mood.

"What's got your undies in a bunch Myea?" That's Luke, one of my two friends. He's short, has curly blonde hair, and like all of us, he has a temper.

"Ms. Zolif," I muttered before inhaling a cookie. Luke nodded sagely.

"You should just tell her to eat a plastic spork." That ones Jason; even after a shower he seems like he's covered in motor ail and dirt. He is always fiddling with some sort of device, even when he's eating, which I view as some sort of magical kung-fu. I shrugged and continued inhaling my food. "Geez Myea, the food's not going anywhere." I glared at him. "I get that insults and anger are your defense mechanisms, but we're your friends. We can help." I sighed.

"She said my dyslexia was an excuse for my failures. I told her to basically shove it."

"Sweet." Luke was normally a kind person, but he had a cruel streak. That's why we got along. I couldn't help but cheer up a bit. My friends' happy moods were infectious. All three of us went to band class next. I played Alto Clarinet, Jason played Barry Saxophone, and Luke played Bassoon, though how he managed to carry it I had no idea. We were all our won section and got to sit next to each other. It was great. We were nostalgic, however, seeing as it was our last day before exams. I sighed as school finally ended. I gathered my things and walked out to my car in the parking lot.

"Hey Sortis," called a gruff voice. I sighed, threw my stuff in the back seat, locked the door, shoved my keys in my pocket, and turned around.

"What do you want?" it was the school bullies, usually ten in total, but today they seemed to have a lot more recruits.

"You see, we, as the senior class body, decided to teach you one last lesson before we all graduate." He meant to grin in an evil way, but he just ended up looking constipated. I barely prevented myself from rolling my eyes. No matter how many times I told them I'm a sadomasochist, they were either too dumb or lazy to look it up. (For your information, it means I enjoy my own pain and other people's pain.)

"You know what? I think you can all shove a drain pipe up your-" I didn't get to finish because I got sucker-punched in the gut. As I fell to my knees, I couldn't help but smile. The pain felt so good. A small giggle escaped my lips. They really started beating me then. I got to the parking lot at 3:05 PM; I didn't leave until 6:00 PM. Admittedly, though, at least half an hour of it was spitting out blood on the concrete and trying to stand up. Normally, I'm home by four. I expected my parents to chew me out, but they seemed to barely notice my absence.

"Oh hello dear," said my step-mother, some blonde woman my father had married when I was five. I know he had had something with my mother. I just know he did. When I was six, I finally asked him where my mother had gone. His face went all stony, and he looked dead inside. It was the first time I had ever seen him like that.

"She's dead." I never learned anything else about my mother. Slowly, very slowly in fact, my dad kept getting that dead look. Now, he practically looked like that all the time. I'm fairly certain he's dead, or at least emotionally dead. As for my step-mother, well, she never went out of her way to make my life miserable, but she never really cared too much either. I was basically on my own. Except for my dog, Galgeus. He was a midnight purple mastiff (a weird dog color, I know) and the size of a coffee table. I loved him. He was the best friend I have ever had and I would never hurt him. I found him almost a year ago as a small puppy. Best thing to ever happen to me.

When I got home that day, coughing blood and barely able to walk, I should have known then. I should have known they suspected my disappearance of my death. Instead, I only saw the parents who ignored me. Boy, was I wrong. "Myea," droned my dad, the same dead look on his face from years earlier, "make sure you behave, do your chores and homework, and brush your teeth." That's basically all he said to me anymore. It's sad to be an orphan and still know you have parents. Now enough of my whining (for now). I dragged myself up our stairs to my bathroom and got into a hot bath. The water stung my abrasions, but it wasn't until I was clean that I saw the full extent of my injuries.

I had a black eye and a deep gash along my forehead. I had deep bruises along my ribs and long scrapes along my thighs and abdomen. Then I looked at my feet and calves. My calves were thoroughly destroyed and I was surprised I hadn't already died of blood loss. The bones in my right foot were shattered. My left foot appeared unscathed. Shakily, I grabbed gauze, bandage tape, and some wooden rods. I wrapped and splinted my legs. After a few minutes, I gave up on my foot and patched the rest of me up for a while. I pulled on flip-flop on my one good foot, shimmied into some clothes, and grabbed my keys. I made it to my care, and through the mind numbing haze of pain, managed to drive myself to the hospital. I limped though the doors. I could tell blood had started to leak through my bandages and onto my clothes. A nurse caught me before I collapsed.

The overhead lights stung my eyes. I struggled and they held me down. They had me on a stretcher, but I didn't want to be on a stretcher. I hated that feeling of helplessness that comes with letting others decide my fate. At this time, I became delirious. "Miss, miss can you tell me your name?" I was panicing now. I clutched at the nurse's arm.

"You have to call my friends. Jason and Luke, you have to call them."

"Okay sweetheart, we will, but first we need your name." I didn't hear this.

"My phone is in my pocket. Call them." Someone dug into the pockets of my jeans. As they rushed me into the emergency room, I found myself chanting a peculiar phrase over and over: Phoebus Apollo, Patron der Heiler, kann das Fleisch auf den Knochen zurück.

AN: Feel important is you know what the above means or if you can use Google Translate to figure it out. Remember, please give me quest ideas. Hope you like it.