I'm an anomaly.
Things like me should not exist.
What exactly am I?
How could I be classified?
Has something like me ever happened before?
Where should I stay?
Should I be allowed to stay at all?
Am I dangerous?
How did I manage to survive so long already?
What do my father and grandfather think?
What was my father thinking?
Should I be allowed to even exist?
All of these questions pounded my head as I sat alone in my cabin at Camp Half-Blood, my new home. Salty tears streamed down my face as I celebrated my 15th birthday in the cold and damp interior, questioning my existence. These questions were my welcoming to the world of Gods and Demigods, and me.
I started that week in my New York apartment with my mother. Her ash-black hair hung to her waist, her black eyes sharp as ever. Me and my mother couldn't have looked more different. Her hair was straight and black, mine was uncontrollably curly and a light brown. Her eyes were so dark you often couldn't see the line between iris and pupil. Mine were a piercing green. If our faces weren't the same shape and our noses weren't so alike, I would have sworn I was adopted. She told me my eyes reminded me of my father. I wouldn't be able to back her up on that, though. She told me she was a spitting image of her father, my grandfather, whom I had never met. I had never seen pictures of him, I didn't know his name, and I hated him for that. This was the same with my father. I hated him too. Me and my mother had grown close through the years, because neither of us had known our fathers, and we related with each other.
Only now I had a pang of hatred and anger in my heart towards her. How could she not have told me? She knew my fate. She knew where I came from. I never understood why we moved so often until know. It would have attracted monsters.
I learned that when a dracanae showed up on my doorstep ready to eat me for lunch. My mom sprang out from nowhere holding a bow and arrow. After an intense battle in our living room, my mom picked me up out of the ball I had curled myself into and told me to pack my bags.
She told me nothing on the way to the Empire State building. Absolutely nothing. I was crying and begging to know what was going on. She should have told me something, anything.
I don't remember much of how I got to Camp except for crying and clinging to my mom's hand.
"Who is she?"
"Long time no see, Mr. D." My mother replied to the fat man that was glaring at her.
"We're not accepting second generations right now. There's no room." He shrugged her off and turned away.
"There's room for her. Where's Chiron?" The man I had associated with Mr. D turned around.
"Out back."
My mother led me away from him, and towards a field.
"What's going on? Please tell me something." I begged.
"Dalila, I'm going to leave you at this camp for the summer. You're going to have fun here, and I promise everything will be explained in due time." She caressed my face and grabbed my hand again.
We walked to the edge of a long field.
"Chiron! My mother called, waving at a group of horses." I had decided that she had gone crazy. Then, one of the horses turned and started galloping towards us. As it got closer, I realized that where I had thought it's neck had been, was the upper body of a man. A centaur. I had learned about them in my English class the past year as we studied Greek Lit.
"Anastasia! Is that you?" The centaur called. I started to feel dizzy, like I was going to pass out.
"It is. Olympus, Chiron! It's been forever." She said fondly. They embraced like old comrades.
"What brings you back to Camp Half-Blood?" My mother looked at me, and then back to horsieman. His face turned somber.
"I'm so sorry Anastasia, did D not tell you? We can't let her stay if"
"Chiron. She's not second generation." Her eyes were trying to convey more than I knew.
"What do you mean?" The centaur's face was muddled with confusion.
"Her father…" Then his eyes grew wide in recognition.
"You don't mean… Anastasia did you really?"
"I did. I know. I'm an idiot. But I wouldn't go back on it for a second." She turned around and hugged me.
"Does that mean she has the blood of two…"
"Yes. I think so. I don't know. But her father knew what he was doing." She let go of me and rustled my curly mop.
"We'll have to take care of this. Come." Chiron beckoned us as he trotted to the building where we had met Mr. D.
"Stay out here." I sat down on the ground outside of the building.
I heard all of those questions through the walls. Some were shouted, some were said with terror in their voice. My mother's voice was heard every once in a while pleading to let me stay, apologizing, admitting she had been wrong. I had no idea what was going on at all.
After what seemed like forever, someone came out for me. My mother was still inside.
"You do sort of look like Percy." They said. I had no idea what this meant. "Follow me."
They took me into a square of what looked like cabins. Straight ahead were two large cabins, the one on the left looked like it was marble with bronze doors. The one on the right was also marble, but in the dark I could tell it had some design on it, but I couldn't tell what.
I passed a row of cabins on my left. The first cabin on my left had peeling brown paint and looked almost in disrepair. There were no lights on inside any of the cabins that I could see. The second cabin I passed almost looked like a small factory. It had brick walls and smoke stacks. Then I passed a building that looked like it was made of solid gold. I started to get curious as to when I would stop and if I would be staying in one of these. The next cabin made me want to throw up. It was roughly painted red, with a large boar's head on it's front. I prayed I wouldn't stop there. Luckily we kept going. The last cabin I saw was the first on the row. It looked like it was made from rough sea stone, and had a seashell trident on the door.
My heart skipped a beat and I started for the door, not needing the approval of my escort. I walked in and saw rows of bunks against walls made of abalone. The breeze smelled of the sea. I walked towards windows that faced the ocean.
That's where I found myself now, drawing a cake with 15 candles onto the window.
"Make a wish, Dalila." I whispered to myself through my tears.
