Look, I didn't want to be a prince.

I never asked for it, never even dreamed about it. Well, I mean maybe I dreamed about it here and there. Who wouldn't? Sure, it'd be nice trade in my tiny apartment in New York for a castle. There'd be some serious perks to that. And when I say tiny apartment, I mean miniscule - even by New York standards, so the whole castle thing could just be a condo and we'd be living large. Talk about a grand slam.

Alright, I'll say it right now. My mom and I are poor. Like really poor. It's just me and her, so we need to rely on each other for everything. Mom works her butt off twelve hours every day at Sweet on America to make ends meet, and even I've been working since I was fourteen, dishwashing at this diner called Gabe's Kitchen that treats me like crap. Taking long shifts after school, may I remind you, doesn't help with already low grades.

Because of that, teachers don't care about me. My public speaking teacher even joined in on laughing at me when I almost spewed lunch during my oral presentation.

I'm invisible at school. Like, literally invisible. I got sat on again last week. The guy just plopped right down on the bench in the school cafeteria and jumped up when I groaned. And don't even get me started on girls - I'm less than invisible to them. It's like I never existed in the first place. I can't really blame them, you know?

Okay, picture your cliché football star. He's probably buff, blond, and hot - your average Tom Brady, right? (Hey, Tom Brady is hot. I can objectively say that.) Okay, you got it in your head? Good. Now take that image and toss it over your shoulder straight into the bin, rummage around in the trash a little, and you'll find me.

I've got messy dark hair that basically has a mind of its own, I'm gangly and thin so the school uniform pretty much wears me, and I've got these thick-rimmed glasses that make my eyes look like they're the size of the Atlantic.

The only person who even wants to be my friend is Grover, and we're both pretty low on the totem pole to begin with so he doesn't have much to lose when he's the only one sitting with me at lunch. He laughs at my bad jokes, hosts the school's news program, and he does this really great impression of a walrus with chopsticks - you should ask him about it sometime, it's hilarious. But I know a lot of the popular kids make fun of him behind his back, especially since he walks with crutches, and I've had my glasses broken a few times because I get in fights over it.

It's gotten to the point where I don't want to bother my mom and ask for new ones anymore, so I've had to tape them back together a lot.

When you take in the whole scheme of things, it's pretty obvious why I would make a lame prince.

Ah, what am I doing, complaining about my life like this? You'd be saying, "But dude - look on the bright side! Now you don't have to worry about all that stuff! You're royalty!"

You know what? Let me start over.

I didn't want to be a prince. I don't want to be a prince. I just want to be like every other tenth grader worrying about zits, and algebra quizzes, and staying up way too late playing video games.

So when I heard the Queen of Olympia was coming into town, it was kind of in one ear, out the other. Some queen from some country I can't find on a map? Okay, cool. Good for her, I guess? Don't go down any dark alleys or whatever.

And when my mom told me my grandmother wanted to meet me last night, I was like, "Yeah, sure, no problem" as I fell face-first into my bed after a long shift at the diner. Seriously, would you immediately think to put that 'two and two' together?

Mom gave me the address and told me to go to it right after school the next day, so that's just what I did.

Fast forward to now.

And I must have gotten lost because the address that's here should definitely not be the Olympian embassy. I squint at her handwriting and then up at the gate's elegant sign. They match. Unless I need to get my eyes checked again, I've arrived - or I'm in huge trouble.

Why my grandmother would want to meet in a place that screams at me to get off the grass in twenty-five different languages, that has white-gloved butlers opening and closing doors for me when I walk into rooms that smell like peppermint and mahogany is beyond my level of comprehension.

The butler leaves me alone in this huge room, I guess you could call it a parlour if you wanna get all fancy, and I just have to wait. The thing about a kid like me is I never like to be doing nothing but waiting. So of course I investigate. I poke around at a bookshelf that takes up a whole wall, and I play with a bouquet of pears - yeah, real freaking pears - arranged in a bowl, and I mimic some of the poses of the marble statues that stand on little pedestals. One of them is of a soldier, and I put my fist on my chest just like him and pull my shoulders back like a cartoon; another is of a dancer throwing her leg up behind her and of course I try to do the same and fail; and lastly there's one that kind of looks familiar. It's weird enough for me to pause.

It's a head and shoulders of this young guy wearing a high collared jacket buttoned all the way up to his neck and those things on the shoulders - I think I remember them being called epaulettes or something, I could be wrong. His hair is swept back, and he has a chiseled jaw underneath a well-trimmed beard. His focused, deep set eyes, even though they're totally white because - well, because it's marble - are intense. I stare for probably too long because for some reason I know him. Not sure from where or how or why. Maybe he's an actor.

Before I can really think about it much more, someone clears their throat from behind me. I'm spooked enough to jolt and bump the bust off its pedestal. It rocks and tilts and I only manage to grab it just before it falls. But its heavy and it slips from my sweaty grip anyway and drops to the rug with a thud.

"Oh jeez, I'm sorry. Hold on, let me-" I pick it up and it slides a little from my hands so I use my thigh to cradle it from the bottom and haul it back up into place. It's not broken or anything, but my ego is because the one who watches me do all of this is a girl.

She doesn't seem at all impressed by what just happened, what with her lips pursed into a thin line and her gray eyes scanning me from my scuffed loafers up to my disheveled hair. Comparatively, I'm a mess. Even though she's only wearing a t-shirt and jeans, she looks more put together than I do. She seems about my age but carries herself differently, like she's honestly got a stick stuck up her butt that's forcing her spine straight, as straight as the marble column the bust sits on. Her curly blonde hair is pulled up into a bun high on her head so it matches the tightness of her expression.

"You're Perseus Jackson?" she asks, like she wants to be sure.

"Percy, yeah. Who's asking?" I can't help but lob rudeness back when I receive it.

"Come with me," she says, ignoring my question, and she walks out of the room toward a sunlit patio.

I'm forced to rush after her and into this courtyard. It's filled with fountains and flowers, and right in the middle of the green grass is a table covered in white linen. Sitting at the table is a lady, older - probably in her eighties what with her short, silver hair - wearing a well-fit pant suit. She's slight and pale but holds herself like someone is pulling a string from the top of her head. She has impeccable posture, so much so, it kind of makes me straighten up too.

When she sees us coming, her lips spread into a smile and her eyes are a little misty.

"Oh my goodness," she says and she gets to her feet. The other people standing around the outskirts of the courtyard bow their heads. She walks up to me and takes my hand into hers. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say my son was right in front of me!"

I glance at the blonde girl who gives me a show-some-respect look. I shake the woman's hand and say, "Hi, I'm Percy."

"It is such a pleasure. I am your grandmother, Rhea Cybele Opis Megalos." She's got a proper accent, lingering somewhere from Europe.

What a mouthful though. "Can I just call you Grandma or... Nana?"

She laughs, more like a chirp, and beckons me to sit across from her at the table. There's a tea set laid out in front of me. The chinaware seems like it'd break if I even looked at it funny, so I decide to just leave it untouched.

My grandma stirs her tea elegantly and the sound of the spoon ringing against the cup echoes around the garden. I can't help but feel everyone's eyes on me, the way they're all staring at me expectantly like I'm going to do a magic trick. Even the girl, who hasn't taken a seat the whole time, watches me with quiet consideration.

"So this is…" I try to find a word that isn't insulting " - weird." Nailed it. "Why exactly did you want to meet here?"

"My dear boy," she says, looking up at me with knit eyebrows. "Where else would we meet?"

"I don't know, like, normal places? The park or a restaurant maybe?"

She laughs that chirpy laugh again and I can't help but stare. She notices me watching and her smile falters a tad.

"Oh my, do you - do you not know who I am?"

Is it obvious? Am I not clued in on the joke? I glance around the courtyard for some kind of help but there's nothing.

She puts a hand to her chest and says, like it's a totally normal thing, "Well, I'm the Queen, of course."

I blink and lean in, like I hadn't heard right. "The what?"

"Queen. Of Olympia. First in my name, the mother to your father, the crown prince of Olympia."

My ears ring as if someone dropped a statue on my head. "My… my dad was -"

"A prince. Just as you are."

You know when you flip the channel on the TV and you get to that one non-existent channel and it's just sort of snowy and the noise is like grinding sandpaper together? That is pretty much my brain when it all clicks.

"I'm a pr- I'm a prince…? Shut! Up!"

"I beg your pardon? 'Shut up'?"

The blonde girl steps in as if to intervene while I have a major panic attack.

"Excuse me, Your Highness, he doesn't actually mean for you to be quiet. It's more of an exclamation of alarm or distress -"

"Oh, I understand, thank you, Ms. Chase," the queen says with a wave of her hand. "Perseus," she says to me, but I can't really hear much.

I'm holding my forehead in my hands and I'm groaning.

"Perseus," she says, more forcefully. "A prince does not groan."

"I'm not a prince. Seriously. You've got the wrong guy."

"I am quite sure of your lineage! Our intention was to reveal all of this to you on your eighteenth birthday, but circumstances have changed. You are royal by blood. You will one day inherit the throne."

A bubbling something threatens to make its way up my throat and I feel just as sick as I did the day I had to give the speech. I know I'm turning green just thinking about it.

Prince? Me? The guy who doesn't even have the guts to ask a waitress for more ketchup is expected to one day rule a country? No. No no no. This is a big mistake. I dry heave and put my head in-between my legs.

"Oh dear," the queen says. "Ms. Chase, water - if you will." The girl rushes off.

"I'm going to puke," I gasp.

"You will do no such thing!" She says it like I offended her to the deepest fiber of her moral being.

I haul myself up to lean on the table and grab the edge, like I'm hanging from a cliff.

"You ignore me for fifteen years of my life and you decide that now is a good chance to tell me I'm royalty?"

"It was only a matter of time after your father passed that it be -"

"Just because I'm some guy's kid doesn't mean he's my dad. Since when does being a father mean leaving us behind?"

I'm angry now. No, not angry. Livid. Outraged. Irate. I'm Percy Jackson, son of Sally Jackson - not some prince who gave up on us.

The queen softens. "We cannot choose our family but we can choose what kind of person to be. And you can choose to be a good ruler."

"I really don't want to be the ruler of anything, especially not a whole country. So how about you just leave me alone!"

I jump up from my seat and knock it over in the process as I sprint out of the courtyard. I nearly run into the girl as she carries a glass of water and I can't even apologize because I'm so freaked out. The butler doesn't have time to open the door for me before I burst out of it and carry on down the sidewalk, determined to run all the way back home.

"Sweetie, please come out," my mom says from behind my locked door.

"Percy isn't home right now. Please leave your name, number, and reason for calling after the beep. Beep."

My face is buried deep into my pillow, doing its best to block out the world for me. It's helping a little, but not enough to stop my heart from pounding out of my chest.

When I first found out that my dad had died in a car accident a few years back, I reacted to it much like I would if I didn't even know the guy, like he was a stranger. In all honesty, I really didn't. Who knew that he'd be giving me such a hard time from beyond the grave?

"Percy…" my mom says in that classic Mom Voice.

"When were you going to tell me?" I ask.

"When you were ready!"

"What, was an egg timer supposed to tell you?"

Mom sighs and then the doorbell buzzes. Her footsteps trail away as she goes to answer it and I hear her muffled voice talking on the intercom. There's silence and then the front door squeaks as it opens.

"Your Majesty," Mom says, breathily. "It's good to see you!"

"As I you, Sally dear. It's been too long."

"Please, come inside."

I hear them walk into our kitchen and the chairs groan against the linoleum.

"Where is he?"

"In his room. I can only tell by the way he flew in there, things didn't go well."

"He's acting just as his father did when he realized he would take the throne. He was so determined on being with you and the boy… Then Zeus abdicated to carouse in Thailand, and, well, here we are. I should say I'm not surprised in the slightest."

I lift my head from my pillow, grab my glasses from the side table, and silently move to my door to get a better listen.

"Percy didn't mean to offend you," Mom says. "He's just overwhelmed."

No kidding, I think as I lean my back up against the door and slide down to the floor. The worn-down carpet is scratchy and stiff and I play with the fibers like it's supposed to interest me. Anything to distract my mind from the reality that's sitting in my kitchen.

"He has every right to overwhelmed," Rhea says. "But it's his destiny to rule. We need him. His people need him. He's our last and only hope."

Talk about more pressure. The back of my head thumps on the door, just loud enough for the two in the kitchen to hear. The conversation pauses as I'm sure they look in my direction.

"Percy, come on out," Mom says, desperation edging her voice.

"What if I say no? To taking the crown?"

I can tell Mom is watching Rhea closely, probably thinking the same thing that I am: I'm not ready. I'm just a kid. I'm nobody.

Rhea takes a deep breath. "If Olympia goes without an heir, it will bring our nation to its knees," Rhea says, matter-of-factly.

I wait a second - more like a minute, actually - and fully process what it is she means. If I say no, it's my fault that a whole country goes topsy-turvey. My cowardly butt would be responsible for ruining everything. God, I'm such a jerk. The guilt of it all makes me want to go back to bed.

But instead of doing that, I grab the door handle and twist it open. From my spot on the floor, I poke my head out just a bit.

The brightness of the overhead kitchen light is drastic compared to the darkness that is my room. I see Rhea and Mom sitting across from each other at the table, watching me just like the people around the courtyard did, waiting for me to say something. Heat simmers on the back of my neck.

"Do I have to make a decision right now?" I ask.

Rhea, who looks so out of place in her pressed clothes, says, "I suppose there is some time. But the Olympian Independence Day Ball is quickly approaching. However, if there is no heir by then, the crown will pass to one of the lesser noble families. Our time will end."

I let that stew for a moment while I think about what that means.

"If I play along with this, I wouldn't have to go back to Gabe's Kitchen, right? And I can buy a house for my mom?"

"If you so choose, then yes," Rhea says. "You're a prince. You may do whatever you wish."

I see my mom lower her head and smile. It makes my decision a little easier.

"Don't do this for me, Percy," Mom says and looks me straight in the eye. "This is your choice and yours alone."

"I couldn't agree more," Rhea says, putting her hand on Mom's.

I chew on the inside of my cheek. I've never been one to really think that my words mean anything. No one has ever given me a chance to prove otherwise. Now my words matter. But I can't make the choice lightly.

"I'll think about it," I say. "But I'm not agreeing to anything yet, okay? I'll let you know at the fancy party or whatever you called it earlier."

Rhea nods. "Understood. In the meantime, we must primp you for your people. To be a prince, you must walk like a prince, talk like a prince, look like a prince. First things first: Princes never sit on the floor."

"What, are you gonna give me Royalty Lessons?" I joke, but the look on Rhea's face means the opposite.

"More like Royal Boot Camp," she says. There's a twinkle in her eye and I wonder if I'm in for a world of hurt.

Waiting for me outside our building the next morning is a black limo with dinky little Olympian flags hanging above the headlights.

"You've gotta be kidding me," I say with a huge grin. The driver rushes to the back door and opens it for me. This is beyond surreal. Wait until Grover sees this!

I duck inside and the driver closes the door behind me, but I'm not alone.

The blonde from yesterday is sitting in the row of seats opposite me - her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes piercing right through me, her hair pulled into a ponytail. A small backpack is resting at her side and she's wearing my school's uniform, looking as prim and proper as ever.

I glance around for any hidden cameras, like it's a prank. "You stalking me or something?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Sort of. I've been assigned to make sure you stay out of the spotlight until the ball," she says. "Wherever you go, I go."

"Who's making you?"

"Your grandmother."

"Does she expect a lot of problems?"

"Depends. Are you planning on giving me problems?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure a limo will draw some attention."

"That's why we'll be dropped off a block away from school. But Her Highness doesn't want you riding your bike to school anymore because it's dangerous."

I snort and look out the window as the city zooms by. I've only been hit by a car twice and I was fine both times. Dangerous smangerous.

The girl rattles off a list of what I'm doing that day. "After school you'll be with Her Royal Highness for your etiquette and manners seminar followed by speech and dancing lessons -"

"I can dance. My friend Grover might disagree though…"

"Then I think we can trust Grover on this one."

I smile.

"You never told me your name," I say, meeting her eyes.

"Annabeth Chase. You can call me Annabeth."

"'Annie'?" I tease.

She stares and corrects me again. "Annabeth."

"Got it, ma'am," I say and salute.

She opens up her backpack and takes out a schedule. "I'll be in every single one of your classes, making sure you stay out of trouble. You're not supposed to tell anyone about your bloodline, got it? No one. Not even this Grover person. We don't want this leaking to the press."

"What about my imaginary friend? He's gonna be so bummed if he's left out."

She gives me a look, like she's not one hundred percent sure if I'm crazy or just joking. I only smile. She shakes her head and looks down at her schedule. Actually, she's kinda cute when she reads, with her eyebrows furrowed and her teeth playing at her lips. I realize, like I just stuck a fork in an electrical socket, that this is the longest conversation I've ever had with a girl - let alone a pretty one.

"So," I say, "are you my bodyguard then?"

She doesn't answer, but she doesn't need to. The picture is getting clearer.

"What kind of bodyguard is fifteen?" I ask. "Are you a spy?"

"I'm not a spy."

"Sounds like something a spy would say."

For the first time, she smiles. Well, maybe not fully. Her lip twitches in this sort of way that makes it seem like she's trying really hard not to, so she looks out the window as a distraction. I still count it as a smile though because when she thinks I'm not paying attention, she doesn't hold back.

Grover leans over the aisle while our public speaking teacher, Mr. Dirk, is writing on the whiteboard. He whispers loud enough for me to look up from my notes, "Hey, you wanna hang out later tonight? I finally got Dark Magic Four. We could co-op."

"Sorry, I can't tonight," I say. "I've got… a thing."

Grover furrows his eyebrows. "Did you get detention again?"

Prince Lessons, but really, would Grover believe me?

"No," I say, shaking my head. I can feel Annabeth's eyes on me from her seat in the back. "I've got dinner with my grandma."

"How'd that go, by the way? Is she nice?"

"She's very - polite."

Mr. Dirk turns around again and addresses the class, making Grover slide back into his seat and listen.

"The key to a good speech is to find a person in the crowd and speak to them as if they're the only one listening. As far as you're concerned, that person is the only one who matters. Focus on the meaning of your words. If you reach at least that one person with your sincerity, your job is infinitely easier."

My stomach drops when I remember that I have to give a speech at the ball - about whether or not I'm going to accept the crown. My palms start sweating and I rest my forehead in my hand as I try to think about anything other than that. Speaking in front of people is easier said than done. When I'm actually up there, I'm nothing but a bumbling mess, like a two year-old just learning to talk for the first time. Maybe if I just ignore it, future Percy will figure out how to deal with it.

"You'll all be preparing your speeches to give at the end of the quarter," Mr. Dirk says. "Hopefully this time, there won't be any more… incidents."

All eyes fall on me and some snicker because who could forget, right? My ears burn.

The bell rings signaling the end of class. I scoop all of my books up and shove them into my backpack as I join the crowd filing out of the room. Grover was long gone since he had to truck it all the way to the other side of the building for his next class. I don't really blame him for not wanting to stick around.

I hear snickers behind me and don't even have to look around to know Nancy Bobofit is just revving up for another round of making fun of me. I wonder what she's gonna do today - smear mustard on my backpack? stick gum in my hair? shove me down the stairs? She never fails to surprise.

"Hey, Jackson," she says in that gravelly rasp. I don't give her the satisfaction of turning around as I wait for the door to clear. "I doubt your mom can afford you throwing up your lunch when you only have so many food stamps a week." She and her friends laugh.

My heart feels like it's getting sucked up by a vacuum cleaner, squeezed into a tube, and spun around in the swirling vortex.

Annabeth is suddenly at my side. Were my hackles raised that obviously?

"Stay out of trouble," she murmurs. "Remember, you can't cause a scene."

Nancy can make fun of me all she wants, but when my mom is brought into it… I have to draw a line. I glare at Annabeth because I feel like I'm on a leash. She simply stares ahead and I huff.

The crowd parts and we both manage to squeeze out into the hallway. But Nancy doesn't let up.

"Where you goin', Jackson? Here, you can have some money so you can actually eat today."

She jingles a handful of coins right next to my ear. Instinctively, I flinch away. I don't trust myself not to smack her hand and send the coins flying.

Annabeth doesn't leave my side the whole time. I can see that her knuckles have gone white as she clenches her textbook to her chest. Only because she asked me do I keep my head down and walk. I don't want to make Annabeth's job harder than it has to be. I can just tell she's waiting for me to react. So does Nancy, for that matter. It's like she won't leave me alone though until I do. Either I disappoint Annabeth and get into a fight, or I let Nancy get away with everything. And I don't want to disappoint Annabeth more than I already have. Now she knows just exactly how pathetic I am.

I clench my jaw and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

Then Nancy raises her voice to everyone in the hallway. "I'm starting up a charity for Percy Jackson! Please make your donations so he doesn't go hungry! Save Percy Jackson!"

Annabeth suddenly drops her book to the floor with a loud smack. "Oops," she says and stoops down to pick it up. In a flash she throws out her leg just as Nancy has her head turned toward her friends while they laugh at my expense. Annabeth is so fast, it's like liquid when Nancy trips and falls. Just when Nancy hits the floor, Annabeth is already standing at my side again and holds me by the elbow as we keep on walking down the hallway together.

There's a scene as Nancy tries to figure out just what happened and her friends help her to her feet. But Annabeth and I are long gone before anyone knows the difference.

My skin is on fire where her hand is on my arm and I look down at it in amazement.

"So much for staying out of trouble," I say.

"It only applies to you. I just dropped my book."

This time she actually smiles straight at me, her gray eyes a dazzling sparkle, and I can't help but smile back.