Okay, this story takes place 10 years after the Blood of Olympus events. Here's what the story contains:
"Human speaking."
'Human thinking.'
"Monster speaking."
Dream/flashback speak.
Most of the characters are my OCs, but I might have Percibeth and some other ships in here later on.
Enjoy!
~~~Emily POV~~~
It all started with that stupid Chihuahua. If I had just destroyed it when I had the chance…But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Hi, I'm Emily. I'm thirteen years old. I go to Morristown Academy for Troubled Teens.
Am I a troubled teen?
Definitely.
I'm dyslexic, so I can't read. Words just get jumbled up and I get a major headache. And don't get me started on ADHD. ADHD has gotten me kicked out of a lot of previous schools.
Like that time at Marytown Middle, when we went to an endangered animal exhibit. I didn't mean to open the spider cage! Honest!
Or when we went to Ocean World where I kinda accidentally on purpose tripped Minnie Highway into a wading pool of angry horseshoe crabs.
Actually, there was one more cause other than behavior problems that caused me and Mom to move, but I'll get into that later.
Anyway, I had promised my mom that I'd try extra hard to stay at MATT, because I could tell all the stress from the moves was getting to her.
So there I was, sitting in homeroom, trying not to fall asleep during Mr. Bushkern's lecture about the early settlers. (Yawn)
I stared out the window over some boy's head, watching a couple of birds. They looked like they were having so much fun, soaring through the air.
Suddenly there was a streak of brownish-black, and one of the birds disappeared. The only thing left of it was a few feathers floating on air.
And then I saw the Chihuahua.
It was sitting just outside the blacktop limits, on the grass beside a tree. A feather stuck out of its mouth. Its fur was the same color as the streak I saw earlier. It looked normal, but its eyes…
Its eyes were glowing red. I was ready to jump out of my seat when a crutch smashed down on my hand, crushing my fingers into the side of my desk.
"GYYOOOOWWWW!" I shouted, clutching my wounded hand on my chest. I looked up into the glaring face of Mr. Bushkern.
"Next time, I expect you to be able to avoid that, Miss Gaterlily." I should probably explain that Mr. Bushkern's favorite way to make sure you were paying attention was to attempt to smash your hand in with one of his crutches. At MATT, the teachers were told to be rough on the students, to 'whip us into shape.'
"Yessir," I mumbled. The rest of the class snickered.
Whatever I did, Mr. Bushkern was out to get me. He would humiliate me as often as he could.
I was his favorite target for his crutch of doom. Mr. Bushkern had some kind of leg muscle disorder or something, because he had to use crutches to get around.
He limped back up to the chalkboard, where a sentence was written.
"Now Miss Gaterlily, explain what George Washington meant in this quote." He stood to the side of board behind his desk expectantly.
I looked at the words, but all I could make out before I got a splitting headache was, 'Cotoresu tall maniteti ewf; soeth bell tired.'
"Um. I don't know." I shifted nervously in my seat.
"Well then, try to pay attention while a proper answer is given." He sneered at me, and my temper flared. The whole class laughed loudly now.
I wanted to grab his stupid crutches and smack him upside the head, then rip off his arms and beat him with them.
Oh, yeah, did I forget to mention I have anger issues? I've gone through three councilors already, two had their stupid clipboards smashed over their stupid heads. The other one had a pen stuck in his eye.
I regret nothing.
" 'Be courteous to all, but intimate with few; and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence.' " That George Washington quote means that you should be respectful to everyone, to choose your comrades carefully, and you should make sure they're trustworthy, Mr. Bushkern." A sickly sweet voice said.
Hailley was a big suck-up and of course Mr. Bushkern's favorite.
"Yes, very good, miss Hailley. Miss Gaterlily could learn a thing or two from you." He shot me a glare, so I glared back.
He picked up a piece of chalk, preparing to write more, when the bell rang. He glared at the clock like he wanted it to explode.
"It's time for you to go now." Before the words even got out of his mouth, the class surged out of our desks, stampeding out the door, turning down the hall, and running out the front doors.
Every morning at 9:00, we're let out of our class to the blacktop, to let us get our 'overabundant energy' out.
Also to let us beat each other up without getting blood on the floors.
Today, Kyle Warn went after me. I usually get left alone, but this blockhead is new here, and doesn't know better. Usually my wardrobe of a navy blue 'Green Day' t-shirt, leather jacket, dark, ripped skinny jeans and combat boots is enough to tell people 'don't mess with me,' but I guess that knuckle-brain was feeling lucky or something.
"Hey, loser Goth. I'm bored. I wanna see how many times I can punch you before you cry." He sauntered over to me.
"You wanna try, buster? Bring it." I bared my teeth and tightened my fists.
"Oho, the Rebel' got some nerve after all!" He got up close to my face, and I could smell Nicotine on his breath.
"Close your eyes, Dark Princess. This'll be over soon." He pulled back, cocking his fist, and I struck.
Two quick jabs, and it was all over. Left hand to the gut, right hand to his face. His head snapped front, then back as my punches connected.
He doubled over, one arm around his gut, the other holding his nose as a spurt of blood dripped through his fingers.
"W-what are you!?" He gasped through his fingers.
I cracked my knuckles.
"I'm-"
"DEMIGOD BLOOD!" A roar echoed over the pavement, then the Chihuahua I saw earlier leaped at me.
As it jumped, its body distorted, growing, stretching.
I rolled out of the way just as it landed with a crunch where I had been standing a moment before. I popped back up, and saw the monster.
Sleek black fur covered its body, and a whip-thin tail jutted off its rump. When it turned to face me, I saw the red eyes.
The eyes seemed to suck my energy away. I was vaguely aware of kids, running screaming back into the school. I was paralyzed by those terrifying eyes…
Then it roared in my face, and I snapped out of the trance.
I got to my feet. Hey, I might not like this place, but it's my domain. Nobody- especially not a giant friggin' Chihuahua demon- is gonna bully it away from me.
"Hey, Lassie! You wanna take this place, you gotta go through me first!"
Was I totally stupid? Yes.
Was it unnecessary? Probably.
But I'm fiercely territorial, so I felt I needed to protect this place.
The giant dog barreled down on me, and I honestly have no idea how I jumped out of the way, onto its back.
Unfortunately, the mutt was fit for a rodeo. It bucked and turned, spinning and rocking. Soon I had lost my grip on the short fur, and slammed into the ground, hard.
I tried to roll away, but claws found my back and tore into it. Pain exploded my senses, red and black swarming around the edges of my vision.
The mutt lifted its paw for another strike, and I knew it wouldn't miss this time. I braced myself, waiting for the sharp claws to tear me into bacon strips.
But the blow never came.
"Leave here, hellhound! Your kind are not welcome!" A crutch flew through the air and smacked the dog right in the snout.
It staggered back, stunned but nothing else. I recognized that voice, that crutch…
Mr. Bushkern staggered out the doors, still holding on tight to his other crutch.
The hellhound, or whatever, jumped over me, landing right on top of Mr. Bushkern.
With a snap of his jaws, the hound picked him up and bounded away.
I didn't understand what had happened. But I knew I had to get home. Some instinct was diving me there. I had to see if Mom was okay, to have her rub my hair and tell me it was going to be okay, she'd fix me.
I just laid on the ground for a couple seconds, then got up and started to walk.
Well, more like zombie-stagger.
'I have to make it home, I have to make it home,' replayed over and over in my mind.
A long seven minutes after, I had stumbled up the stairs to our little apartment home. I collapsed on the stairs, thumping my head against the door as I fell.
My mom opened it, and I remember saying, "The big dog…," before passing out.
