Prologue: Guess what? I'm a superstar.
Author's Note: (Please take the time to read this; it'll really help you understand the story better!) So, hai (Yes, hai, not hi! Deal with it!) fellow Percabeth fans! This is my first fanfiction story, but please don't underestimate my literary skills! (Don't overestimate them, either…) Anyways, this is a nondemigod story, but many people from the PJatO gang will be included. Sorry if it's a little OOC; I will try my best to keep the characters' personalities reasonably accurate. Just for clarification, none of them have dyslexia and/or ADHD. Just because I do not want to have to bother dealing with age-related dilemmas, so all of them are the same age (except for Luke). That includes Silena, Beckendorf, Nico, and Thalia. This story will also incorporate many of our most beloved pairings: Percabeth (well no duh!), Thalico, Tratie, Juniper/Grover (what's their couple name again? Is it Groviper? I don't seem to remember...), Clarisse/Chris (dunno their couple name either), and finally last but definitely not least, Silena/Beckendorf! (They're a really cute couple, but do they even have a couple name? Help me out here, guys!) Three cheers for Percy + Annabeth! Cutest fiction couple ever! (At least in my opinion.) Sorry, I'm rambling again! So without any further ado, on with the story! R&R!
Summary: Annabeth Chase is a famous teen celebrity singer that practically all of the teen male population adore. Anne Chaneys is a mysterious, pretty, witty, amazing-at-singing new student at Goode High, the school that Percy and Co. attends. I think you can figure
out the rest...
Disclaimer ~ I'm not doing this more than once - it's unnecessary. Rick Riordan has full rights to PJatO, as well as all the characters and settings used in the books. I do not own anything, except for the plot.
Annabeth's POV
Have you ever wondered what it would be like if you, an ordinary teenage girl, posted a video on YouTube of yourself singing a song you like and playing the guitar that got nearly two million views within the first day of it being posted online?
And then what would happen if you became an instant sensation and the newest teen idol because of your voice in that two-and-a-half minutes long video?
And then how crazy it would be if you became a real artist, writing and performing music onstage and selling albums that were extremely successful, and then getting a personal manager and stylist?
And then what if at the Grammy's Awards you won the title of Best Female Artist of the Year for the second year in a row, as well as earning several other awards for your best songs?
And then, how amazing do you think it would be if your face began to show up regularly on the cover of J-14, and the super-hot-actor-girls-always-swoon-over-one-and-only Luke Castellan asked you out?
And if you started dating, and became the paparazzi and the public's "favorite celebrity couple of all time"?
And what if all of that actually happened to you?
Hi, I'm Annabeth Chase, a.k.a. America's Sweetheart, and I'm the newest teen celebrity.
I honestly had absolutely no idea the video I posted on YouTube that fateful Sunday evening would make me what I am today. I was an average eighth grader, more of a nerd that anything else, really, a month away from turning fourteen. I has nothing to do because I had finished all my homework the day before and for some reason I wasn't really in the mood to read or play the guitar like I usually do when I'm bored. So I listened to the radio and surfed the web. My favorite song came on and I sang along, pouring my heart out into the words and soothing melody, while using my laptop's camera to videotape it.
Then I was searching up random YouTube videos (yes, I do have a life, thank you very much! I was just BORED!) and I thought to myself, "Why not post the video of me?" So I did, and next thing you know, some music producer dude is knocking on my door and I'm suddenly so popular and famous for posting a silly little video of me singing online. Everybody at school knows me and acts so nice and stuff to me now. Especially the "popular group" that used to take such pleasure from tormenting me.
I remember the endless taunts, accompanied by cruel snickers and choruses of "good one!" and additional snide comments, as if I wasn't standing there and hearing every single word that was slowly gnawing away at my self-confidence. I had stood up to them every time the bullying had occurred, but eventually I had began to believe them, to doubt myself and wonder if they were right about what they said about me, that I really was a nerd, a loser, a goody-two-shoes.
After a while, I had pretty much gotten used to the usual sneers and smirks of "Oh no, look out, it's the geek!" and "Did you have fun at the dance? Oh, right, sorry, I forgot, you didn't get a date to the dance. Nobody wanted to ask a freak like you." and "Too bad you didn't get to go to the party at Michael's last Friday night. It was a total blast. Sarah and Nick finally got together. It was so cute! Sucks for you that you missed it. But then again, you miss all the parties. After all, why would a prude like you ever get invited to one?" The bullying hurt me quite a bit the inside, but I promised myself I would stay strong. I would keep my face impassive, never let tears leak or get angry at them. I would just ignore them as best I could. It was an incredibly hard thing for me to do, but I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry or provoked into fighting back. Thankfully, the bullying never became physical. They never hit me or anything, just insulted me.
I don't think they insulted me for my natural looks. I was born with soft, silky blonde curly hair. I have long, tan limbs and I don't get sunburned easily. I don't think I'm very ugly. Sometimes when I dress really nicely, I even think I almost look kinda pretty. But the thing is, most of the time I don't care about my looks. I don't wear makeup or jewelry, and I wear simple, unbranded clothing. Don't get me wrong - I'm not a hobo who doesn't care what he looks and smells like. I have proper hygiene and nice, clean clothes. I just don't obsess over my appearance like most of my female classmates do. This made me an easy target for the "popular crowd".
I've always been a bit of a know-it-all as well, or what you might call a tryhard. I don't try to be a snobbish teacher's pet or anything. I just pay attention and participate in class, and get straight A-pluses. And guess what? I'm labeled as a nerd, a geek, an overachiever.
But then I suddenly became this incredible aspiring superstar, and the "popular club" stopped the bullying. In fact, they practically begged for me to sit with them at lunch and hang out together afterschool and during the weekends. But every time I politely refused. I would still eat my lunch alone in a secluded area at the edge of the courtyard, in the shadow of a maple tree, eating while reading, usually books on architecture. My current read was a fascinating study of the "Seven Great Wonders of the Ancient World". I spent my days peacefully, for once not bothered anymore by the "popular club", being as studious as ever, and beginning to write my own songs. I had been playing the guitar for five years, and I was really quite decent, if I may say so myself.
But then it really started to get out of hand when I started to become a real, genuine artist. Other students swarmed me and asked for my autograph so I was late to classes. The teachers didn't get really mad at me because I was always their star student but still, I hated being tardy.
The worst part was the press. The paparazzi started showing up on campus before- and after-school. My newly appointed personal manager insisted that I hire a bodyguard, but I really didn't want to. Eventually I quit school and hired a professional tutor instead. I got a personal stylist as well and for once in my life I began to care about what I wore. My old clothes were abandoned, and my stylist chose every single thing I wore, including my undergarments and pajamas! And yes, she was very picky. I adored her. (A/N: Guess who she is - I'll reveal her identity in the next chapter!)
I practically lived at the gigantic recording studio. I took my academic lessons there, ate there, sang there, played sports there (actually played it, not just virtually on the Wii or something), hung out with my stylist there - it had a full game room, with so much technology you wouldn't believe your eyes, and I had become close friends with my stylist, as she was my age - and in general spent the whole day there (8 A.M. to 9 P.M) on every day of the week except for Sundays, when the studio was closed. Even though I wasn't supposed to be there that long, my manager and the studio employees didn't mind if I stayed there extra; it actually meant they made more money, since I wrote more songs whenever I was there. Every evening my dad would pick me up, and I would be holding my pajamas for the evening and the next day's outfit, and then every morning my dad would drop me off, and I would be wearing the selected outfit and would return the previous day's outfit and pajamas. The system worked out well. On Sundays I'd quietly stay out of the way, either in my room doing the homework my tutor assigned me, or outside jogging or just taking a breather.
And then came the family issues.
You see, my parents were never married. They met in college, at Harvard (A/N: That's actually where Annabeth's dad went to school and met Athena), and dated for a couple years, winding up with me. Then they had to go their separate ways. My mom, a brilliant, absolutely genius, wise-beyond-her-years young woman, had begun a company, called Athena Architectural Corporation, or AAC for short. She wanted to improve and expand her company by devoting all her time to it, so she convinced my dad to take me because she felt she would have neglected me due to how busy she was dealing with her company. For example, perhaps she would forget to feed me, and would turn out to be a bad parent.
Unfortunately, I don't think my dad exactly wanted me. I mean, he took care of me, and all that, but he always seemed so distant. At first I thought that it was just his nature to be like that, but then he got married and he and my stepmom had two twins, Matthew and Bobby. Afterwards, I realized as I watched him shower his new sons with love, that he simply did not truly accept me as his child. He treated me more like a guest in my own house than his daughter. He provided me with all the physical things I needed - food, clothing, materials, a bed, a room, all of those necessities - and took care of me, but refused to give me the emotional support and love I longed for. His wife only made it worse. She treated me decently, I supposed, but not any kinder than she would treat a stranger she met at the grocery store.
So when I was old enough to contact my mother, I talked to her as much as possible. I emailed, texted, and called her regularly, and was even able to visit her a few times. She helped fill a little of that empty hole in my heart that my dad was supposed to fill but never did. However, most of the time she was too busy to spend a lot of quality with her only daughter; she didn't even have time to date! She was still single, still totally focused on the success of AAC, which, by the way, was now the biggest and most in-demand architectural company worldwide, having also developed several branches that specialized in certain fields - such as Dare Enterprises (A/N: Recognize the name? Guess who else is going to turn up at Goode High?), which was the branch of AAC that mainly dealt with landscaping, building new malls and other different types of large public complexes.
But anyways, now I was making actually a lot of money (emphasis on A LOT), especially since last month I won the Grammy's Award for top female artist of this year or something, and I've only just turned sixteen. Of course, the world doesn't know my age, but that's irrelevant. I opened up a bank account of my own (my wonderful manager was able to legally get me an account, even though I'm only a teenager). And then guess what my lovely stepmother and father decided to do?
It was actually my stepmom's idea. That Sunday evening, before my family went on their "fun night" outing, she'd asked me how much money I was making and I answered truthfully, warily, wondering where this was going. My dad and stepmom were so happy to hear that I was making big money, since apparently after I finished high school they planned to retire and use most the money I made to buy a multi-million dollar home in Beverly Hills for themselves, and were going to remodel it, so they could move in when I left for college. It was going to be a huge mansion with a personal gym and spa and stuff. And they weren't going to even let me live there!
I told them it wasn't fair that they were going to use my money to pay for it, and my dad argued that I didn't even need the money so I might as well give it to my "lovely family that raised you and deserves to be repaid". I had actually been planning to donate a couple million to different nonprofit organizations that either helped people with disabilities or worked to preserve the environment and forests and endangered animals. The rest, I had been planning to save for later. I guess I could give some to my so-called "lovely family", but there was no way I was going to let them take all of the money I earned for themselves, without my permission.
"No," I said coolly.
My stepmother's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
"You heard me," I snapped.
My stepmom stepped forward and smacked me hard across the face. So much for her treating me nicely, huh? I flinched, but refused to cry out or even touch the place she had slapped.
"You ungrateful filthy little bitch!" she screamed. (A/N: Please excuse the language, I promise I won't have excessive swearing in this story.)
"Annabeth, be reasonable. Stop acting like a selfish, spoiled brat," my father said calmly, as if everything was absolutely fine. I couldn't believe it. I knew my dad didn't exactly love me, but I never would have thought he would he would have coolly stood by while his wife insulted and hurt me.
"We'll deal with the papers tomorrow," he continued. "All you have to do is sign them, and it will automatically transfer all of you money from now on to our bank account. We'll take care of the rest. You should be grateful. We're sparing you all the work. Please be cooperative, Annabeth, ok?"
I sighed, as if giving in. "K, fine," I muttered dully.
My dad beamed at me. "Good girl."
I kept my face impassive, but I was mentally strangling him. "Good girl"? Really? What was I, a dog? But then I patted myself on the back for my excellent acting skills. I couldn't believe that he had actually believed me when I supposedly agreed to signing the stupid papers.
My father took my stepmom, Matthew and Bobby out for dinner and a movie, leaving me alone at home. Like always. Usually I'd converse with my mother or just hang out, but today, as soon as the car pulled out of the driveway, I got straight to work. I called my mother and asked if I could move in with her. After hearing about what my dad and stepmom wanted to do, Mom was outraged by the fact that they were trying to use me. She, being a self-made billionaire (in fact, she was #6 (A/N: Athena has the sixth throne on Olympus, and her cabin at Camp Half-Blood is Cabin 6 – that's why I made her #6. Did anybody catch that?) on Forbes Magazine's list of the richest people in the world), knew what that felt like to have others attempt to cheat you out of your hard-earned fortune, so she agreed to have me move to New York to live with her.
My dad always kept a pile of flattened-out cardboard boxes in the garage. He was always one to collect items, and never get rid of any, even if they were useless, resulting in a very cluttered garage. I went down and grabbed about a bunch after hunting around for a bit, and packed up all my stuff, which was, sadly, very little. I've always been super organized, so it took a less than an hour to pack all the stuff I still wanted. I packed my teddy bear – the only stuffed animal I've ever owned, and it was from my mom - and all my bathroom supplies. I left all my clothes in the closet - I didn't wear them anymore. My entire customized wardrobe worth nearly a total of a hundred thousand dollars - This was my stylist and manager's doing, not mine, jeez! - was at the studio.
In total, I filled five boxes - two with all my personal stuff, minus the clothes - and three with all of my books. Well, not all of them. The only books I had in print were my favorite ones, mainly large hardcover volumes on Greek and Roman culture, mythology, and architecture. On the side, I had my big Kate Spade handbag, where I carefully packed my laptop and my Kindle Lightning (A/N: I think that's what a futuristic Kindle would be called), where my library of about seven hundred books and counting were stored.
I took out my iComp, short for "iComputer", Apple's newest product yet. It's the size of a regular smartphone, but holds 128 GB and has the power of a laptop. (A/N: No, it doesn't really exist - yet.) My manager insisted I had the best technology, even if it was unnecessary - "You're a celebrity! You have to have to be able to splurge and show off!" Anyways, I checked the time. There was still a couple hours to go; my "family" probably just finished dinner and still had to go see the movie. I called my personal manager and told him how I was moving to New York City to live with the famous Athena Gray, (A/N: couldn't think of a suitable name), my mother.
Surprisingly, he was very pleased and agreed immediately. Apparently, there was a lot better publicity and more opportunities in NYC, and so he told me that he would deal with buying a new studio building and getting everything moved over there, including my stylist and tutor. I smiled and thanked him profusely, promising to double his pay, which he refused, saying it was his job. He told me he'd come pick up my boxes and drop them off at the studio. While I waited for him to come, I lugged the boxes downstairs and set them by the door, them made myself a Nutella sandwich for dinner.
The next day, after my father dropped me off, I would board a personal jet plane and be flown to NY. Legally, we didn't need my father's permission, since actually by the law, my mother had always technically been my parent; she'd just given my dad temporary custody.
The next day, I was dropped off in NY and driven in a limo to my mom's awesome mansion in Queens, New York City. Within a week, my manager had sold the old building and bought a huge studio in Upper Manhattan that was even larger than the old one, but practically the same price. A month later, I was totally settled into the old routine, since my manager, stylist, and tutor all moved to NY as well. Thankfully, the paparazzi didn't find out the real reason I moved to New York City. When my father called, outraged, threatening to sue, I calmly told him to leave me and Mom alone, or next time I was being interviewed on a late night show, I might just let it slip that his wife slapped me. I even had the proof - a picture of my bruised, red cheek my stylist took before she expertly covered it up with makeup, trilling, "Can't have the public see you with that! No, no, it would cause a scandal!"
That shut my dad right up. He hasn't bothered us since. And you know what? I don't think he ever will.
Everything was perfect. Until on Friday the 13th (A/N: No, I'm not superstitious. My birthday was on Friday the 13th this year. But I just had to use that date. It was too tempting. I'm sorry.), it happened… For the record, as to who I am… I am a person - well, I look just like the rest of you. (I'm assuming all of you that are reading this are mortal... If you're a satyr, you should be looking for more demigods! If you're a demigod - well, demigods never use technology! You should get to Camp Half-Blood - where mortal electronic devices are banned! (Except for cell phones, which can only be used for emergencies... And going on Fanfiction is not an emergency.) And if you're a god... with all due respect, what the Hades are you doing on Fanfiction? You must be really bored... Back to the topic. I look like a regular human being, but I am actually an archetype of Annabeth. No, I don't look anything like her or a daughter of Athena. No, I am not close to ever being as intelligent as her. I am sort of like a mortal Annabeth - but not quite. If she dies, so do I. I'm not a demigod, or a human... Sort of a personification borne of Annabeth because of the mass knowledge of her existence. My soul is like a weaker, simpler, non-godly duplicate of hers - she does not know I exist, but I, obviously, know she does. I spend my days behaving as a regular human, worshipping her, the Greek gods, and the demigods - performing the noble art of leaving constructive criticism to Fanfiction stories that need improvement. Then I began my feeble attempts to write stories. Because of the normality of cliché, over-used storylines, especially about Percabeth, I have decided to take on a personal challenge-to-self: writing my own version of these stories, and seeing how bad - or good - they end up. Hopefully, good. Now, I don't want you to take offense at what I said - I'm sure there are plenty of fantastic stories out there using the following basic plotlines. It's just that I've seen so many Here's my list of cliché plots (feel free to give me any suggestions, if you have any ideas!). All of the stories will star Percy and Annabeth, but will incorporate other important people. I will specify which group of characters are in it: 1. The whole 2. The common 3. The totally overused 4. The all-too-common Here are some discarded ideas of mine - I might eventually try them, but they're at the bottom of the list, because I know for sure I would suck at them: 1. Truth or Dare (I guess some are alright. Others... not so much. The idea is quite preposterous in itself, I think.) 2. The (usually) ridiculous whole 3. Lemons. Just... I don't even know what to say about them. Annabeth and Percy are really more into joking around and making each other laugh than doing intimate stuff. Whao. That was one Until Next Time,
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry if it was boring, it was supposed to be a clarifying/filler chapter. Next chapter, things will start picking up! Thanks so much for reading! Don't worry, Percy will come into the story soon! Please review!
Annabeth - Athena's Daughter!