Malia Thompson has two problems: the gum on the bottom of her shoe and the hair growing out of Ms. Riggs nose.

Okay, okay, the second problem isn't exactly hers, but the sweaty strands are so gross looking, Malia can't avert her eyes. Call her rude, but its similar to when people have that plump zit on their face that is in some serious need of popping, and no matter how much you try, you can't seem to stray your eyes away.

I wish it were a zit. She thinks as she stares wide-eyed at the snotty forest.

Ms. Riggs leans forward, clasping her hands together on top of her wooden desk. Her expression brings an amused smile to Malia's face as she ruminates on what could have brought her to the office this time.

Was she finally getting caught for the soap in the swimming pool? Or maybe they figured out it was her who leaked the answers to the Algebra exam last week.

Or maybe, just maybe, Ms. Riggs wanted to praise her for winning the talent show earlier this morning with her speed painting. She was almost eliminate for her masterpiece looking like a dick, but after much protesting, Malia made it clear it was not a dick. It was a penis. And those are two separate words, mind you, so technically by using the scientific version of the male anatomy, she was kept in the competition by claiming it was a biology lesson.

A really in debt lesson.

"I know you made the stink bomb."

Shit. Someone must have ratted her out in art class. Malia rolls her eyes. Last time she will trust a bunch of freshmen.

Malia kicks her feet up on the desk and crosses her arms. Now that was fun. She had set it off in the midst of her obnoxious teacher's lesson and tossed it to the freshman in the back of the class. They had began to throw it around the class in a hot potato manner, allowing the laughter from the class to fade out the teacher's threats.

That is, until someone threw it to Grover. You see, Grover gets scared easily. He screamed as soon as the bomb landed in his lap, fell backwards out of his chair, hit his head on the desk behind him, and passed out.

That was pretty funny, too.

But he is Malia's friend, so when the class started laughing at him, she screamed something along the lines of, "if I hear one more sound out of your baby-ass-mouth, I will make the rest of your high school lives miserable!"

And coming from Malia, the girl who duct-taped not only her EX-boyfriend to the girls bathroom door, but also his dick - which was shaved and attached by several layers to the handle - sent the freshmen into a panicked silence.

Ms. Riggs chuckled. "I'm actually surprised you made it until Thursday until coming to my office."

Normally she's screaming by now, Malia thinks. "Call it a miracle." She responds, a little upset that she wasn't told to take her feet down.

"A little unfortunate too." She snaps. "You made my job much harder."

Malia's eyebrows furrow. "I made your job harder by not coming to your office everyday?"

"Your seventeenth birthday was three days ago," Ms. Riggs mutters. "The protection should have worn off then. But then YOU masked your scent AGAIN with that silly wristband!"

Malia touches the bracelet in her pocket. It was a gift from Grover; a promise that as long as she kept the beads on, she wasn't allowed to pull any pranks. She took it off this morning for the first time all week, feeling bad if she wore it during the stink bomb incident.

"My scent?" Malia self consciously sniffs her shoulder, hoping her odor wasn't equivalent to the nose hairs growing out of the principles nose.

"Shut up! Every second you're here is another second our plan is in danger!"

Then the strangest thing happens. Ms. Riggs, the small old lady, turns into a monster. She grows three feet in height, hovering over her as talons grow from her nails and her leg transforms into a donkey's.

The troubled teen's mouth fall open in horror. Her first instinct is to scream. The next, was to pick up the chair she was sitting on and smack it over the head of Ms. Riggs.

"OW!"

She ran for the door and just as she turns the corner, she tumbles straight into Grover. Except he wasn't Grover. He was a goat.

"Get behind me!" Grover demands.

Malia doesn't like listening to people, but she immediately obeys the boy she had protected the entire year, letting him stand in front of her with the fearless eyes she once wore.

Ms. Riggs, or what was left of her, smashes through the door with a terrible BOOM. Splinters fly everywhere and Malia ducks to avoid being crucified to the walls. Grover immediately pulls his pipes out of his pocket and plays a tune.

"Grover!" The panicked girl yells as Ms. Riggs gets closer. "This is no time for music!"

But to her surprise, the notes did something magical. Vines sprout through the wooden floors, causing the monster to trip and fall just as a tree erupts from the ground. The trunk slams straight into her chest, exploding the principle into yellow dust.

Malia's dreaming.

That has to be it. Principles don't just turn into donkey-vampires.

"Punch me!" Malia shouts at Grover, her hands shaking and mind still trying to process what just happened.

"I'm not going to punch you!" He cries. "We've got to get out of here!"

Malia shoves his hand away. "I'm not going anywhere!" She protests. "Not until you tell me what just happened!" The vines and the tree linger in the hallway, leaning towards Grover as if waiting for a command. She's still too shocked to mention the goat that has taken over his body.

Grover lets out a frustrated yell. "Look, that thing that just tried to kill you? It has friends. And if we don't get out of here soon, this school is going to be full of Empousa."

Her mind spins. "Em-Emp-what?"

"They're Greek monsters." Grover quickly explains. "Malia, we have to get to New York! They could get here any second!"

"New York!" Malia shouts. "Grover, do you know how much a plane ticket cost to get there? You know my Aunt can't afford that right now!"

He grabs her wrist, hauling her down the hallway. "Which is why we aren't taking a plane."

Grover yelps as his confused friend plants her feet firmly into the ground. "I'm not going anywhere, Grover!" Time seems to be slowly coming back to her as she whimpers, "Oh God, what is on your legs? Please tell me you didn't get surgery like those creepy people who get elf ears or shit!"

Her last thought is that Grover never looked so frustrated. He puts the pipes to his lips "Sorry about this, Malia."

Then she's falling face forward onto the ground, sound asleep.

Grover looks down at the stubborn girl. "Θεοί, παρακαλώ να με βοηθήσει." He whispers to the skies.

The troubled teen did not expect to wake up to wind whipping against her face and the open skies stretched out beneath her. And she most definitely did not expect to wake up on a flying horse.

So when her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, Malia did the only sensible thing anyone would do in this situation. She screamed.

Grover cringes. "I was wondering when that was going to happen." Malia opens her mouth to respond, but he holds up a hand. "Will you let me explain before you try to push me off this Pegasus?"

The girl's eyes widen at the word Pegasus - a name she hasn't heard since the mini Greek Mythology lesson last year in English. Slowly, she nods.

"You know the Greek myths? Zeus, Poseidon, Hades?" He doesn't wait for her to respond. "They're real. And you're a demigod."

Malia blinks. "You're fucking with me, right?"

"You're literally on a flying horse."

"Oh nononono..." Malia whacks her brain, searching for a better explanation. The Greek gods are real? Seems like utter bullshit. But considering Grover has goat legs and she was just attacked by a... what did Grover call it? An Empousa - it makes better since than anything else she can think of.

"If I'm a demigod," Malia says slowly, testing the words out on her tongue. "Then that means my mom would have to be a god." She recalls Sophomore year of high school, remembering how her teacher explained only one parent can be the godly half. And since she has met her biological dad, it must be her mom.

Grover nods. "You're quite old for a demigod. It's very surprising no monster have found you up until today. I barely was able to catch your scent. It was almost as if someone put a protective shield around you."

The teen grows green. Pieces of her dream flutters into her mind.

"I can't protect you much longer." A lady in gold explained. "Soon, they will find you and when they do, they won't hesitate. They want blood, Malia. And they need you to be untouchable."

"Ms. Riggs said it wore off on my birthday."

"I sensed it. Suddenly you went from smelling like a bucket of water to roasted coffee. That's why I gave you that bracelet. I had it charmed to mask your scent a bit. Didn't work too well. Your smell is too strong."

She looks down at the Pegasus, trying to knock the thoughts out of her head. She's been having nightmares ever since she turned seventeen. Most of them are about the lady in gold. The rest are about murder.

She runs her hands along the Pegasus' black fur, tangling her fingers in the silk. The horse gives out a sigh of delight. Grover pats the Pegasus. "This is Blackjack. He belongs to my friend, Percy."

"Grover, where exactly are we going?" Almost as if on cue, a camp reveals itself to them, fading in from darkness.

"Camp Half-Blood. One of the safest places for demigods."

"I don't understand," Malia confesses as Blackjack lowers them to the abandoned fields. "Why do monsters want to kill us?"

Grover shrugs. "They hold grudges. Plus they enjoy killing demigods slowly."

Blackjack lands and Grover helps me down. The horse huffs. "Oh right, sorry." Grover digs into his pocket and feeds him a biscuit.

"Where is everyone?" Malia questions, wary that in fact Grover is delusional and no one actually lives here.

"Sleeping," He responds. "You were out for eight hours. It's almost midnight."

"What was that anyway?" Malia rubs her head. "I think you gave me a bruise."

"A lullaby... I knew you wouldn't listen. Sorry about that. We'll have the Apollo campers heal it in the morning."

Apollo. She couldn't remember what god that was. "So, what now?" Her eyes scan the dark cabins. She tries not to think about the humiliation of being put to sleep by a lullaby.

"You haven't been claimed yet, so you'll need to stay in the Hermes cabin." His eyes seem to sparkle in the moonlight. "Don't worry. You'll fit right in there." Timidly, Malia follows him towards the cabin on the right. Of course it's the most unappealing cabin out here.

Grover opens the door and steps in. Malia's eyes scan the dimly lit room. There were only about five people in the cabin. "I was expecting more." She admits.

"It's the school year," He whispers. "Most kids are in school. You should see this place in the summer."

He directs her to a bunk bed in the corner. On the top bunk, a boy snores obnoxiously. His curly brown hair lays in a mop over his head, concealing his face. Grover points to the bed underneath.

He is so going to switch with me tomorrow. Malia thinks as she sits down on the bed.

Grover smiles and begins to turn around. "See you in the morning. I'll have someone give you a tour then."

"Wait, Grover," Malia expresses with urgency. "I just slept eight hours. And this boy sounds like a lawn mower. Can you play that little tune again?"

"The lullaby?"

She frowns. "Call it a lullaby one more time and I swear-"

Malia falls soundlessly against the bed, her words lost in the soft fabric of the pillow. Then, of course, she dreams of the lady in gold.

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Vote and comment to tell me what you think! Can't wait to start writing the rest!

This takes place a month before Trials of Apollo.