If you are a mortal, then you are the luckiest person like, ever. This is the story of the person with the worst luck ever. Me.

It all started when I was in 7th grade. Unlike most half-bloods, I was not Dyslexic. I was sitting there, reading my book in English class, when a heard a weird noise. I had been raised by my father, who was a professor of Greek Mythology, and I recognized it for some reason. I told the teacher I was feeling sick. She told my friend, Althea, to take me to the office.

As we walked out Althea got very nervous. She kept looking out windows we walked by.

"Go call your father and tell him I'm taking you to camp." Althea said. "Don't tell him anything else. Just tell him to pack you 2 bags of camp required gear."

"It's the last day of the school year! I can't go to a camp!" I argued.

"Just do it!"Althea said. Something in her eyes told me to believe her. I called my father and then followed Althea out the door. We got on the subway and made our way over to my home on the east side. I grabbed my bags and said goodbye to my father.

"Follow me." Was all that Althea said. We made our way the streets until we got to Long Island. That's when the trouble started.

"Were almost to camp." Althea noted. Then we heard a sound. We slowly turned around to find a black mastiff making its way us. And it was the size of a small car.

"Hellhound." Althea muttered. We ran towards the camp border for some reason. As soon as we passed a large pine tree It would not follow us.