Riley~

I sit in the 4th classroom of the science wing. I am the only one in the classroom, and Mr. Wilson, the teacher, is out in the hallway, talking to Mrs. Moran, another science teacher. I am about ready to cry out of frustration. I am not a girl of science. I am a girl of magic. At least I like to think I am. Anyway, I am a fangirl, with an over-obsession with books, and fictional characters. I am extremely smart, but I am horrible with science. I don't know why, because my dad says that math is the language of science, and I am amazing at math. But science goes against everything I read. All of the Greek myths and legends are real for me. There is nobody of my "species" of fangirl in this school, but I hope to meet one someday.

For now, I close my science book and open my sketchbook, and start adding the finishing details to a sketch of Percabeth sitting in the stables of the Argo II, going to Greece, before they fall into Tartarus. I hear someone slide into the chair next to me, almost inaudible. I assume that it is Mr. Wilson, so I close up my sketchbook and quickly slide it under my seat. I pretend to not know he was there so maybe he won't know that I am drawing, not studying.

"What were you drawing there?" comes the soft voice of a girl, not my gruff science teacher.

"Um… it's just something from my favorite book series." I say, still not looking up. Once I get up the courage though, I will look at her. I am not a people person. I like reading, writing, sketching, and being alone outside. "Probably nothing you would know about." I say, foolishly thinking that it is another girly triM, who does not know who Percy Jackson was. Little do I know I am wrong.

"Not likely,' says the girl's voice. I need to get up enough courage to look at her but I cannot yet. 'I can help you with your science if you want.' she says. I have to agree, because I need a better teacher than Mr. Wilson. So I do.

"Ok," I say, not knowing what else to do. I still don't look at her though. "Okay, yes, I need some help in science. Yes that would be good."

"Alright," she says. "But on one condition" Uh-oh, I think. I hate conditions. "You have to look at my face. Just for one second, I don't care. But I just want you to look at me."

Oh-no, I think. I can't look. But I have to. She told me to. As this battle rages on inside my head, my body takes over and I look at her face for an instant. I then quickly have to look back because I am so shocked. She looks about my age, maybe 17 years old, with no makeup. She has long curly blonde hair, a deep tan, camp half-blood t-shirt, and shocking intelligent grey eyes. She looks so much like my hero, Annabeth. No, it can't be. I mean, I really, truly believe that the Greek gods are real and everything, but I never thought in a million years that I would actually meet… no, it can't be. She looks smoky, like she is not real, like a memory would look like if they existed in solid form. Or rather, gas form.

"So what do you need help with?" She asks, like me looking at her never happened.