Hi. So I'm back. I'm alive.

I uh, know that I have two more (one, if you don't count what I don't want to do) active stories to mind, especially CH, but I can't help it. Rather, my friend from school. We kinda decided to co-op and here it is. Originally my idea, but yeah, no boasting about that.

This isn't my top priority as of now, since this isn't on my love list, and so that's where Islo-what's-her-name would come in. We have varying writing styles, so I'm pretty sure the readers who'd stayed with me could identify which I'd written. And uh, she kinda slacks off much more than me. So we're not sure if the updates would be scheduled.

Take note that some of the dialogue is copied from Rick's. Some scenes are going to be skipped. POVs are going to change.

And, without further ado, we present you Mirrors.

Chapter 1: Accidental

He should've died right then and there.

So maybe he wouldn't have to face the consequences of living. So maybe he wouldn't need to act so self-centered all the time, since all he wanted was some time to himself.

So maybe he didn't have to live this life that he'd hated so much—which made it more miserable when he'd lived.

The only thing good about his life was that he had friends—but it seems that it wasn't too much of a good thing, for him.

It didn't need a genius to figure out that his so-called friends were following him because of his good looks. He wasn't so sure, but so many people had told him that apparently he was good-looking; and since then he decided that 'friends' aren't the right name for them. The thing that his mind could process was that they wanted to be popular by making friends with the popular guy. As if he was popular.

The only real friend he'd had was Grover. He was his best friend, in fact. He was the only one he felt that he could trust. They met when the guy stumbled across him, wide-eyed and red-nosed, as if it was his first time to have a cold. Grover was this scrawny, crippled guy who was the only sixth grader who had acne. Not that he minded. He loved poking fun at him.

Right now, he and Grover were sitting on a fountain's edge at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. They tried to be as far as possible from the crowd, but they kept closing in, circling them both, but mostly him. Poor Grover was being pushed around out of the way.

"Percy," Nancy Bobofit, a freckled red-head, smiled sweetly at him, showing off her crooked yellow teeth. It didn't make him feel any better. "Can I sit beside you?" She made to move.

"Um, no," he declined, running his hand over the spot beside him to prevent anyone from sitting. Her smile—which said something he didn't like—made him a bit uncomfortable. "I'm good."

Nancy Bobofit was this kleptomaniac girl who'd bugged him since he stepped on the school steps. She kept on saying, we should be, like, friends, or do you have any interests? As if her whole life depended on it. She had a teacher-supporter, which simply means that she doesn't get suspended whenever she hits someone just to get to him.

That teacher was Mrs. Dodds. For some reason, the teacher just despises him. End of story.

Just then a blur of tan flew past him, sticking itself into his best friend's curly brown hair. It was a sandwich. He felt a rush of anger, and turned on the redhead, who always loved picking on the guy.

"What do you think you're doing?" Percy demanded.

But Nancy merely grinned at him and tried to touch his arm, but he shook her off and made to stand up, but Grover pulled him back. "Calm down, Percy," he said soothingly, dodging another one of the redhead's snacks. "We don't want anything to happen again."

Last time, Percy had tried to teach Bobofit a lesson when she did quite the same thing to his best friend the other day. He stood up to his least favorite teacher, Mrs. Dodds, just to shout in her face to make the girl stop. Something happened, which made her eyes glaze over slightly, before she shifted back into focus, looking a lot angrier, and gave him detention for a week. It happened more times than he could ever count and he got stuck with detention almost every weekend, and the occasional suspension. One more and he'd get booted.

Mr. Brunner led the museum tour.

He was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He was the only teacher whose class didn't put him to sleep out of bore, since he played games and showed off this Roman armor and weapons on said games.

He was telling the class about the Greek funeral art on the walls.

Then Percy heard Nancy snicker something about the naked guy on the stele. If anything, he thought that the guy was actually beautiful. It made him somewhat angry. "Will you shut up?" Of course he hadn't meant for it to be so loud.

The redhead shut her mouth instantly. Mr. Brunner raised an eyebrow at him, looking slightly dazed. "Do you have a comment, Mr. Jackson?"

"No, sir," he denied, his face red from embarrassment.

"Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

He was pointing at the stele. Percy felt a flush of relief when he actually recognized it. "That's Paris and the three goddesses."

"Yes," the teacher nodded, obviously not satisfied. "What were they doing?"

"The three goddesses were fighting for a golden apple," he explained, knowing quite well why they were. He'd definitely get the golden apple having to the fairest on it—if only he was a girl. "Hera bribed Paris with wealth. Athena bribed him with wisdom."

"And..?"

"Aphrodite bribed him with Helen, the most beautiful woman in the land," he said, feeling proud of himself after not stumbling over his words when he said beautiful. "Paris chose Helen over the other gifts."

"Which led to the Trojan war," Mr. Brunner finished for him. "Why do you think he did so?"

"Um, love is forever?" It sounded like a stupid answer, but the teacher was gazing at him with eyes much too old than the body it serves. It unnerved him.

"Well, half-credit, Mr. Jackson," the Latin teacher finally said, looking disappointed. "They were, indeed, fighting for a golden apple. They had Zeus choose who to have the apple, but choosing was hard for him. So he had Paris of Troy choose as he will. Helen was taken from Menelaus, the king of Sparta, and so he and his brother declared war on the Trojans, demanding his wife back. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, could you please escort the class outside?"

The weather didn't look so good. Percy wondered what was wrong. The others didn't seem to notice it. Only Grover did, he reckoned, since he was glancing nervously at the dark sky, making a weird laughing sound. And then a squelching sound made Percy turn to his best friend. Grover had mayonnaise on his hair.

"That's it." He got up before Grover could stop him, and marched over to Bobofit, who looked like Christmas had come early.

"Percy, are you—"

"Get away from Grover!" His voice suddenly sounded ten times amplified, as if he was using a microphone. He didn't so much wince. Bobofit stumbled back, tripping on her own feet, and fell on her butt.

Then Mrs. Dodds was there in a flash, glaring at him.

He heard some of the kids muttering something about a speaker and a velvet potion. He didn't remember anything about having a speaker, and definitely not a potion.

Mrs. Dodds turned on him, "Now honey—"

"Get away from me," he mumbled, trying to make the thing work like what happened to Nancy, but his voice was as small as a whisper.

"Come with me."

"What are you hiding?!" Mrs. Dodds had turned into the ultimate demon hag. It didn't make her any less ugly.

"I am not hiding anything!" Except for the fact that he wanted to fix her face.

"Then die!" The demon dove at him, and he jumped left, only to trip on his own feet and fall flat on his face. Mrs. Dodds missed him by an inch. "Tell the truth, if you don't want to suffer!"

"I don't know anything!" Percy wailed, staggering to his feet. "Leave me alone!"

Somehow, it worked; Mrs. Dodds recoiled as though she was punched and stood there for a moment, dazed. He knew he should do something to kill the old hag, but his feet were like jelly.

"What ho, Percy!" Mr. Brunner came out of nowhere, holding a bronze pen. He tossed it to him. He caught it clumsily and stared as the pen elongated into a bronze sword, the one he uses on tournament days.

At first he didn't know what to do with it, until Mrs. Dodds snapped out of her daze and charged at him. He came back to his senses and closed his eyes, swinging blindly. There was a creepy hissing sound, a feeling of absoluteness, and then it was gone. He opened his eyes.

Percy was alone.

Feeling confused, he went outside. It was raining.

He found Mr. Brunner by the steps, reading a novel. He approached him. "Sir..?"

The teacher looked up distractedly. "Ah, that would be my pen," he said, taking his pen from his shaking hands. "Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

He frowned. "Where's Mrs. Dodds?"

"Who?" Mr. Brunner stared at him blankly.

Percy pursed his lips nervously. "Never mind," he mumbled, walking back to his best friend as he tried to think about what had just happened.

Sorry for the shortness. But it would get better once we've had some feedback.

So again, the plotline would follow Rick's, only adding a bit more sparkle to make it a lot more original. Reviews are greatly appreciated!

~Smartzyfan