Hello world! I'm not the usual author, I'm her friend. She's been asking me to write a fanfic, and I've finally agreed.
Oh, I guess this is the part where I deny owning Percy Jackson and Heroes of Olympus. I would, but the truth is Rick stole them from me. That's right; he snuck here in the middle of the night and took my manuscript. I tried to chase him, but he is really fast. In the end Percy Jackson was a success and I was content. Okay fine maybe that isn't EXACTLY how it happened, but it doesn't matter. Some of the characters in the fanfiction you're about to read are mine though. Anyway, Rick Riordan did a great job writing about the world of demigods and half-bloods, I'm just adding my little fanfiction to his amazing world.
Hope you enjoy reading it, because I sure enjoyed writing it. :)
_
Chapter 1 : Why I Don't Play Truth or Dare
The bright yellows and reds danced before me, leaving splashes of light everywhere. Laughter rang throughout the night at our last bonfire of the season. In the morning everyone would be sad to go, but tonight we party. Or at least play a round of Truth or Dare, as all 13 year olds do. Girls giggling as the guys did stupid dares, and gasping as girls spilled their guts out. When it got to my turn I choose dare, and a girl named Keira said "Hey, go convince tall, dark, and handsome, over there, to come play with us". Lame dare, but they were just warming up, later people will be jumping into the lake.
I walk over, rubbing my arms in the absence of the flames, to the lonely boulder by the lake. I run my hands through my reddish brown hair, and then plop down next to him. "Hey there," I say,"Whatcha doing all by your lonesome? It's the last night at camp, why don't you join us? We're playing Truth or Dare."
He looks at me funny with black locks of hair falling into his serious, dark, brown eyes. Then his face clears up and he says,"Sure, I guess I was just a little distracted. Going home soon and all..," hesitating he continues,"My names Nico di Angelo", and he puts his hand out to shake mine.
"That's a really cool name, I'm Clara. Clara Jackson," I reply smiling and reaching for his hand. For a second I notice his eyes widen at my name, just the slightest bit. It was over in a moment, and I couldn't decide whether my eyes were playing tricks or not.
"Honestly? I don't know how to play Truth or Dare." He sheepishly admits," Want to take a walk instead?"
"All right," I laugh as I continue,"and I'll tell you all about the game Truth or Dare. Then you can decide whether you want to play or not."
"Deal," He agrees with a smile.
We walk along the shoreline, him wearing black sneakers while I was barefooted.
"So the point of Truth or Dare is too be extremely embarrassing," I begin.
"Why?"
"Well. I guess it's funny. The people watching are laughing, and the people doing it are laughing and plotting their revenge. Plus people aren't suppose to spread it, what happens in the game stays in the game. Now do you want to know how to play or not?"
A slight blush colors his face as he says,"Yes please, I'm sorry for interrupting, won't happen again".
And I just have to laugh,"It better not. Okay, so the games goes in a circle, and everyone is asked 'Truth or Dare'. If they answer truth, then a question is asked and they have to answer honestly. If they choose dare, they have to do whatever the questioner wants them to."
When I finish he eagerly asks,"Can we play?"
I laugh once again and lead him back to the raging bonfire, just in time for my second turn. "hmm, dare if you will," I answer.
"All right, talk in a British accent till your next turn,"Bob says. Looks like I brought this upon myself.
"Easy enough,"I smile at my perfect accent and Bob's shocked expression,"Pa grew up there, and we visit from time to time." It was true, while my father was the nicest man on earth, but it seemed he was cursed with the worst luck on earth as well. He was twelve when his parents died in a plane crash, and he was continents away from his younger sister and any other family members. He had won the trip to England in a competition. His parents were coming to pick him up after spending one quarter at an English school, but things went down from there. He was sent to an orphanage, but no one took the teenage American boy. It wasn't that he was a bad kid, but people usually adopt younger children. The ones that did look at him were always surprised that he was American, and deeply upset after hearing his story. No one wanted that much hurt in their lives
My father was the nicest boy in the orphanage though, he helped the little kids get over their parents, and they looked at him like an older brother. He would hear their angry rants about being left alone, he would hug them as they cried from shock and loss, and he always encouraged them to pursuit new dreams, no matter how unlikely.
Eventually, at age 15, my dad was adopted by a nice elderly couple, Joseph and Clara, whom I was named after. They saw his good heart and after hearing his sad story, they came to a conclusion: He needed a home, and they could use extra help around the house. Now they are in the nineties, still up and about. Dad likes taking me there for visits, because he owes so much to them for taking him in.
Thinking about him, I couldn't wait for tomorrow when I will get to see him again. He's always busy trying to take care of me, but he couldn't possibly do a better job. Except for the fact that I'm constantly kicked out of school... It doesn't matter, he knows its not my fault, I tell myself. I couldn't wait to see his bright blue eyes, happy to see me, so much like one of mine. We had a joke that the only thing I inherited from my dad was a blue eye. My other eye was brilliant hazel, my dad always told me it was the color of flames.
I break out of my reverie in time to see Nico's turn, and he uneasily says,"Truth please."
"Great, how do you prefer to die demigod?" Keira asks, her legs turning scaly. I look around and everyone seemed to be changing into, into what.
I feel the blood drain from my face as I whisper,"Not here, not again."
Nico's eyes flash towards me as he registers my words. One nod and he grabs my hand and manages to say,"Trust me." We run towards the boulder, or more accurately at the boulder. I am really wondering what is wrong with this kid, but right before we crash we step into shadows colder than my freezer.
