~Percy Jackson Fanfiction~

A/N: Hey Guys! :D So I'm REALLY sorry I haven't posted anything new. I've been super busy, have had so much school work, been swamped with other things and I haven't even been able to get on my computer! Now this is a NON NORMAL Percy Jackson fic, meaning it's not of the main characters… mostly. I wanted to do something with their kids and that era, but the originals will be in here. Don't fret No The Lost Hero or any of those books chains involved. I wanna keep it strictly original. As some of you know, this was a story before, but it was crap and I hadn't edited it. So I fixed it a bit and now I'm reposting it Enjoy

Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan, so that obviously means I don't own Percy Jackson. I also don't own world record books or the pink-panther or the Price is Right or Jaws.

Chapter 1: A toothpick blows up a library

"Gwen… Gwen! GWEN!"

I jerked awake, my name pulling me out of my dream, and I sat bolt upright. My head made a sickening thud as it contacted with my ceiling, my bunk bed being way too tall for my liking, and I grumbled to myself as I rubbed the now bright red mark. Yeah, that's a great way to start the morning.

A pair of laughing voices sounded off towards my right, one of them most likely the moron that decided to wake me up, and I turned to check what time it was. Six a.m., great…time to get up.

I should've been happy. It was the last day of school and summer was just around the corner. I was going to stay at my best friends' house tonight and they were taking me to their beach house the next day. It was a much better start to summer than staying at my foster home and moping about, eating Doritos and complaining about the house being too cold, but I couldn't help but feel a little nervous. I was still in the same school, I had been all year, and I was just waiting for something unusual and strange to happen.

I'll be perfectly honest with you; I haven't stayed in the same school for an entire year before… ever. I know I know, it sounds bad, but it wasn't my fault most times. I don't have this bizarre desire to get expelled from every school I've ever attended(if I did I'd probably already have called the mental hospital and ordered an extra large cushion room), but I always manage to find trouble even when I was on my best behavior.

What are some examples you ask? Let me think… oh yeah! Like the time I was in chemistry freshman year, minding my own business, when a giant shadow passed over the window. Being my ADHD self, I had to lean over the counter and look out the window, seeing the shadow of some sort of giant flying lion before it disappeared. It wasn't my original intention to cause the sodium to fall in the sink full of water, but if you don't enjoy smelling like burnt clothing and hearing explosions, I don't suggest mixing them.

Or like the time I was seven and this city council representative came to our class. I don't remember hitting him with the stapler, he seemed kind of nice to me first, but none the less, I got kicked out for puncturing the arm of a representative. That man wasn't very happy with me after that, spewing words of crazy and deranged children, and I could've sworn I saw a flash of fangs as he left. But I must have been imagining things since I am a 'delusional little monster' or something along those lines.

So yeah… I'm not a bad kid, just a kid with bad luck. More times than not, everything gets blamed on me, but I've grown use to it. I mean, wouldn't you be too? I was just waiting to see what was going to happen to me this year, and since it was the last day, I was a little worried about how bad my awful luck could've piled up over the whole time. Oh well, it would be a heck of an adventure… whatever it was.

I turned to look in the direction of my door, a scowl present on my face, and a small smile broke my hard glare as my eyes landed on my two favorite twins in the world.

Trent and Cato Jackson.

Trent stood on my latter; his cropped short black hair jelled up off his forehead and his intense grey eyes shimmering with amusement. He wore a red WATERLAND t-shirt that fit his shoulder well and a pair of dark brown cargo shorts paired with his black converse. His brother, with his practically buzzed short blonde hair and his sea-green eyes which darted everywhere to take things in, stood beside him just barely looking up into the bunk. With a tight black WESTOVER HALL: GRUNT sleeveless shirt and light grey jeans, Cato moved down to my desk under my bed. He was probably rummaging through all my stuff, as usual, and I could only roll my eyes. That boy needed to learn how to keep his hands to himself.

Trent and Cato were my best friends in the whole world. They're two of the funniest people I've ever met, they have ADHD and dyslexia like I do, and to top it all off they've switched schools every year just like me. Granit they were mentally insane just like me… but let's not go into that. This is our third school attending together, their house near all three and my switching foster homes staying the same area, and I couldn't be happier to know the trouble makers.

I had met them freshman year, both being new to the school like me, and I knew we'd be instant friends judging by how all three of us got sent out into the hall at the same time. We all had similar pasts, mainly about school and how we ALWAYS get in trouble, and ever since these boys never left my side. Their parents were nice enough to give me a ride to school with them (my apartment being only ten miles from the school), and I always thanked them profusely for the ride even if they told me not to. I was a trouble maker, not a brat.

Mr. and Mrs. Jackson were the nicest two parents you will ever meet in your entire life time ever. I felt the extra ever was necessary for my point. They never stressed about the boys getting kicked out from school, acting almost like it's happened to them before. The twins were both smart (getting the brains mainly from their mom. Go figure, she was an architect while Mr. Jackson worked at the aquatic center). If they ever started struggling because of their disabilities, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson didn't get upset or disappointed in them. Instead, they helped the twins to the best of their abilities and made sure they understand what's confusing.

I always wished they were my parents, wanting to be in their family, and I felt like I actually was more times than not. They always let me come over, they never said no when I needed a ride, they took me on family vacations even if it was across the country, and they even put up with all my sarcasm (which I was grateful for). I loved the Jacksons, and I couldn't wait to spend most of my summer with them.

"Mornin' sleeping beauty," Trent joked, leaning against the railing, "And how are we this fine day?"

"I'd be better if my head didn't feel like it was run over by a semi," I replied, scooting towards the latter, my head still grumbling angrily "but other than that I'm just peachy."

Trent laughed at my sarcasm, hopping down so I could head towards the bathroom, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. Cato was still looking through everything, my awake figure not stopping him from running his fingers all over my stuff, but his voice carried into the bathroom even if it sounded distracted.

"Gweny," he started, using the old nickname he gave me forever ago, "how long are you doing to be?"

Yeah that's a great question to ask someone who just woke up and nearly broke their forehead open.

"I'll come out after at least four days." I called through the door, turning on the water for the shower.

"So about fifteen minutes?"

I smiled and didn't reply as I slipped into the shower. My friend was so smart sometimes.

I always took quick showers, never feeling the need to stand in the hot water and waste it like most teenagers, and in a madder of ten minutes, I was perfectly clean and my hair was dry. I needed to be in the world records book, I was officially becoming pro at this.

I stepped out in a towel (no the boys aren't still in there… pervs) and saw a pile of clothes sitting on my desk. Everything in it was perfectly folded holding a t-shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans, socks, and the perfect jewelry to go with the outfit on top. Trent usually set out my clothes, besides my underwear and stuff… that'd be weird if he put those out too, I'd get a little concerned for his masculinity, and he always picked the best clothing for that day. I didn't know how he did it, but I didn't question it either. Some people were just good like that, while other like me, frankly, sucked at it.

I got dressing, seeing he left me the white San Francisco shirt we got when we visited Mrs. Jackson's father last summer, and I glanced at my desk while I tried not to skewer my ear with my ear ring.

A solid oak desk attached to the base of my bunk bed, my desk was covered with pencils and paper, all of my art stuff littering everywhere, making a cleanish mess I reminded myself to deal with later. I had pictures on the corkboard above the desk, all taken by my old Polaroid camera I got when my dad passed away, and I smiled at a few of them. The three of us in California, New York, D.C., Missouri, and so many other places it was hard to keep track. Their parents take us to all the places they've been to as kids and teens, never really clarifying why they were there, but it didn't really matter. Every trip was awesome and remember able. Plus the souvenirs that came with each trip weren't that bad either.

I grabbed my backpack, flipping off the single over head light (which resulted in me stumbling and trying to make it out of my bedroom in the pitch black), and I successfully left my bedroom without even a bumped shin.

I crept towards the kitchen, holding my breath and trying to be like the pink-panther, but it didn't work as her scratch voice clawed at my ears, cluing me to the fact I'd fail at being a ninja.

"Gwen! Where is your lazy butt going?!"

Ms. Mendilave.

Ms. Mendilave was a batty old woman who had been divorced five times, been evicted twice, and then for some odd reason that no one can explain, decided to become a foster parent. She was mean, wrinkly, and just plain ugly. She had a thick white unibrow and liver spots on her balding head. She always wore her thick, square glasses like a librarian and shook her finger at me disappointedly, as if I forgot to return one of her books. She was short, like 4'7, and particularly round. Trent always described her as a fat oompa loompa that aged way too quickly, and I couldn't help but think that description was perfect for the woman.

However, that wasn't the worse thing about her. She always, God only knows why, smelt like vegetable compost and rose fragranced baby power. Whenever you go too close to her, the smell would flood your nose, burning and making you want to gag. But when she actually TRIED to put perfume on, her smell went from that to a burnt flower smell that was so sweet it made you never want to touch sugar again. No… unfortunately I'm not joking. And you wondered why I never want to be home? It was like doing a face plant in a rose bed after you put moldy tomatoes and burnt pie crust into the soil.

Unfortunately I won't be switched into a different house any time soon. I'm too old for most families who want to adopt and plus, I'm seventeen years old. I'll be graduating next year and then I can leave. The agency thinks Ms. Oompa Loompa is the sweetest lady in the world, since she always put on an act and gave them cookies that I'm convinced have hypnotizing powers in them, so they're no help. So my only true option (besides running away and becoming a cards dealer in Vegas) was to duke it out until I had my diploma (possibly) in one hand and my suitcase in the other.

I stopped right in front of the door and sighed. It took a lot of will power to not answer her stupid question with I'm leaving to fulfill my dream of being a hotdog vender or I'm joining the British Army and coming back to overthrow America.

"I'm going to school Ms. Mendilave." I grumbled, not looking into the living room where her fat butt was parked on the couch. I could hear the TV set blasting The Price it Right and smell her dreadful scent from twenty feet away. I gripped the bridge of my nose in annoyance as I waited for her reply as I tried not to punch the wall or make a quick getaway to the door. She replied slowly, like the words were begging not to enter her nasty ears and old brain, then refusing to come out when she formed her unhelpful reply.

"Bring me back more spiders and canned ham on your way home!" She shrieked, her little grubby hand hit the arm of the couch with a soft thud.

My whole body shuddered in disgust and I had trouble not gagging.

That was the other thing with Ms. Mendilave, she refused, and I mean refused, to eat like a normal person. Her parents raised her up eating bug and other gross things I couldn't even think about, being from another country and all… I still don't know where, and she always made me go and get her nasty food. Canned ham and Twinkies I could handle, but crickets and spiders were a completely different nightmare just by themselves.

Spiders were even worse. She ate them a lot, like so much I keep looking to see if she's sprouted six more legs to match her spider treats, and she forced me to get them every time, claiming she was too old and weak to get them.

Yes because driving to a store that's three blocks away requires so much effort.

Before my dad passed away when I was seven, our doctor had diagnosed me with a mild case of Arachnophobia. I don't know how you get a mild case (I thought there were only mild cases of chicken pocks), but I guess I'm a lot more special than I had originally thought.

Anyway, when the Wicked Witch of the Wonka (another nickname given by Trent) first started forcing me to go out and buy them, I couldn't do it. I'd beg her and plead with her, but she just called me a baby and threw Twinkies at me until I left. I eventually had Trent buy them after I met him and Cato, Trent not caring but Cato sharing my fear, but I still hated having to have those things in the house. It always felt like they were watching me and trying to get me, even if she kept them in a locked box with tiny slits. They're pretty big spiders in case you were wondering.

I shouldered my back pack and disputed, "I won't even be coming home tonight or for the next two weeks." I had told her about my trip, and there was no way she'd stop me from going on it. I didn't care how many creepy crawlies she wanted

"Well you have to come home and pack don't you?"

Damn… she got me there. She was smarter than she looked.

I sighed, "Fine. I'll get you some."

I trudged out, not wanting to argue with the old woman, slamming the door after I caught her mutter, "Ungrateful little brat."

I opened the back door of the Jackson's car, a shiny navy SUV, and I slid in leaking irritation. I really hope I don't turn out like that when I'm old and lazier than I am now.

Trent and Cato looked me over, my eyes glaring at the tan car floor, but under the anger I felt sparks of unwanted fear. I hated living there, I hated doing things that were never appreciated, but most of all, I hated the fact I had to do thing I was terrified of without getting to have a say against them.

The only noise in the whole car as Mr. Jackson pulled away from the car was the radio softly playing, the sweet sound filling my ears, and I leaned back and grunted unhappily. I don't think it's health to be this grumpy over your house.

"You look pale." Trent pointed out, poking the side of my face. Thanks buddy, that really makes me feel better. Did I mention my friends are special?

I swatted his hand away and retorted, "The one-brow wonder wants me to buy her more food."

The boys both shuddered, knowing how she ate.

"Why is that so bad?"

I looked into the rear view mirror and met a pair of older sea-green eyes.

Mr. Jackson looked at me through the mirror, curiosity written all over his face. His hair was a little long and shaggy, the black color matching with a perfectly trimmed goatee. He looked around his twenties, even though I knew he was in the early thirties, and he wore basic jeans and orange T-shirt since it was Friday. He was handsome, sure, but I thought his wife looked much better with their age. Both of their skin was flawless and practically wrinkle free, but Mrs. Jackson had this air about her that showed who was in charge between the two of them. In other words we knew who was wearing the pants and who was cleaning them.

Mrs. Jackson had curly blonde hair, not the weird and ridiculous curly that was on certain Barbie dolls, but the flat and beautiful curly that every girl with straight hair wanted. Trent had inherited her eyes; that brilliant grey that made you speechless and shut you up quick if they were angry, and they always glistened with emotion. She wore an outfit similar to Mr. Jackson's, jeans and an orange T-shirt, and she held Mr. Jackson's free hand as he drove.

The deal with the orange shirt was after their family vacation, all the Jackson's went to a summer camp, the twins enrolled in it and their parents like counselors there. They had told me about it, but I've never been there. I didn't ask to go nor did I really care if they wanted me to go or not. Every family needed their own thing, and if that camp was it, then they could have it all they want without me weaseling my nose into it. Plus I know everyone needs a little Gwen-less time, even if I'm awesome.

I looked at Mr. Jackson.

"She eats spiders."

"WHAT!?" The adults simultaneously cried out, Mrs. Jackson turning and looking at me horrified from the passenger's seat. Mrs. Jackson hated spiders just as much as me, and I saw the fear and disbelief in her eyes. I loved it when I told people that. They either looked at me like I was high or like I was from a different planet.

I simply nodded.

"Eats them like they're candy."

Half the car shuddered as we kept driving, Mrs. Jackson turning back and gripping Mr. Jackson's hand, like she remembered something awful with spiders. I wouldn't blame her though; those little nasties give me the shivers.

I turned to Trent.

"Can you-"

"We'll get them before we go and get you packed up."

I felt the sigh leave me, a smile spread across my face, and I practically rejoiced, "Thank you." They may be special, but at least my friends always had my back.

We got to school in about ten minutes, the traffic making it slow but Mr. Jackson's mumbled cursing making it entertaining, and we all filed out of the back. Finally, the last day of school. School usually felt like a Mario hammer slamming against my forehead, but today if felt like an ice pack… ya know with a hand grenade attached. I had to stay on my toes, I couldn't get distracted. Being on my best behavior was my goal for the day.

"You guys be careful alright?" Mrs. Jackson stuck her head out the window, "and boys please try not to destroy anything today."

The twins smirked evil but nodded.

"Sure thing mom." They simultaneously confirmed, waving at their parents as they headed towards school. I rolled my eyes. Yeah, that was believable. I made a mental note to teach the boys how to lie later, seeing as they needed more help than I originally thought.

"I'll keep them in check." I reassured her, smiling softly and both parents visually relaxed.

Mr. Jackson nodded, "Thanks Gwen. We'll pick you all up after school."

I waved as their car pulled away, and then turning back and catching up to the boys.

The three of us walked into our first period class, our third period class being the only one different schedule wise, and we took our seats. I glanced out the window and looked towards the New York streets, catching glimpse of beautiful trees splashed randomly behind speeding cars with the occasional fat jogger (who wasn't running for his health, but running because he liked it. Like we'd accept that). I sighed, pulling out my notebook and pencil out. Class would start in about three minutes, and judging by the fact we had a substitute for the last day, we weren't doing anything fun in science.

"Pst, Gwen," Trent whispered, leaning over towards, ignoring the sub's looks and kids walking in, "Can we mess with the sub?" His goofy grin made me smile along with him, taking a look at the sub.

A chill jerked up my spine as soon as my eyes landed on his figure, and I stared at him. Now there are creepy people, there are sketchy people, then there's an unhealthy combination of both. This man was both on many levels of the scale.

For starters, he was huge. So tall he would have to bend down just to fit through doorways. He had this scraggily hair that was dark as night and stuck out every which way, like a Wooly Willy toy gone horribly wrong. His beard was rough looking too, dirty and misshapen, and it held the unpleasant black color. His eyes were hollow, glimpses of pain lurking in them, and his skin was pale. He was thin, his suit barely fitting on his scrawny figure, and his eyes were trained on… well me. There was something else about him that I hadn't notice before. A help dog sat at his side, its breed looking like a grey hound mixed with a Doberman, and its eyes looked as if they had a faintly red glow to them. Wow, I really needed to work on my over active imagination. It was getting a little out of control.

The bell rang and I looked back at Trent. He was still grinning like an idiot, and I frowned. We couldn't mess with this dude, he looked too much like one of those secret murderers that go into schools and pull a random chainsaw.

"No, let's leave this one alone." I suggested, leaning back and sitting in my seat, my body not relaxing in the slightest. Something was up, and the small grin he had on his face as kids filled in didn't help my nerves either.

Trent didn't look happy about it, a small frown replacing the smile, but he didn't argue and just sat back in his seat.

"Hello class," the man began in a dry emotionless voice, the smile disappearing as soon as he started talking, "I am your Substitute, Mr. T. Whyus."

He grabbed chalk and wrote his name on the board. By the way he said it, you'd think Whyus, but when he actually wrote it on the board, it was Yus. Almost like he was texting someone the question Y us? Which when knowing my class was a possibility for most substitutes.

I stared at the board, zoning out as he started speaking about the end of the year and how kids were so ungrateful for the break they got, whining like most subs do, when a piece of paper skidded to a holt on my desk. It was folded into fourths, and I opened it careful not to let Mr. Yus the killer substitute catch me.

Ποιος είναι αυτός ο τύπος? Και τι στο καλό είναι με το σκυλί?

I smiled at Trent's note, throwing him the smile which he returned, and I started to reply.

The twins and I found out something quiet odd about ourselves that we haven't told anyone about. We couldn't read English to save our lives, dyslexia being a real pain in the mule, but for some odd reason, ancient Greek can to us like it was the easiest thing in the world. I think the boys told their parents at one point in time, but I never asked. They never said anything about it, so I guess it was ok to them. I mean, we were learning, just not in the same way as everyone else.

The note translated to something like Who is this guy? And what the heck is with the dog?

I wrote back.

Δεν είστε σίγουροι. Μοιάζει με ένα αχνό οδοντογλυφίδα που ξέχασε να ξυρίσει.

I threw the note to Trent, writing Not sure. He looks like a pale toothpick that forgot to shave, and Cato leaning over, reading it with him and the two tried to control their laughter. The translation was a little off, but they got the idea. The insult wasn't that hard to decipher.

"Mr. Jackson, Mr. Jackson and Ms. Clayborn, what exactly is so funny?"

Crap, busted by the big bad splinter.

At the mention of our last names, we all turned from our seats in the back and looked at the sub. Every ones' eyes were on the three of us, some trying to hide their smiles and others looking pitiful. We all hated being called out by the teacher and it was the one thing that united us as obnoxious, unfocused teenagers.

We looked at each other, our eyes begging the others to come up with an idea, and then we turned back to the man. His eyes were squinted; mouth a straight line, and his head turned towards the note in Trent's hand. Perfect, all he had to do was ask for the note, then we could lie about the translation.

"Bring me that."

I stifled a smile as Trent stood, walking up and handing Mr. Yus the note, then returned to his seat with his own smile. There was no way he could read it.

Everyone leaned forward in their seats, wanting to hear what was on the note, but Mr. Yus just kept it to himself. His eyes squinted at the words, confusion on his face at first, but then he grew angry, like too angry for someone who couldn't read the note. He couldn't read it… right?

"Well," he folded it up and slid it into his coat pocket, "If that's how you three really feel about me, then you can stay after class and we can discuss this." His words were hard and his glare was intense, but he dropped it and turned back to talking to the class.

I stared at my friends, their shock as evident as mine. He read the letter? How many substitutes knew ancient Greek? Our plan was shot down before it even started! I shook my head, closed my hanging mouth, and slumped back in my seat until the end of the class. This was gonna be a long day.

Everyone left to go onto second period except for us three misfits, who stayed perfectly still in our back three seats, and Mr. Yus stared at us. His eyes seamed even darker and meaner than before, the glaring going from kindergarten level to when you break something that belonged to your mom, and he pointed to the front of his desk without even saying a single word.

We lumbered up to his desk, our heads hanging in a fake disappointment, and we stopped in a line, me in the middle and the boys on my sides. The dog started growling, standing on all four of his legs, but he stayed by Mr. Yus's side.

"You are in big trouble. Call me a toothpick? Did you really think I'd let that go so easily?"

His words and eyes were directed towards me, his bony fingers crossed and his scowl sturdy. Something felt wrong with this guy… I didn't like being this close to him. My gut was tight and unhappy and my fingers were getting extremely twitchy. What was up with this guy? And why was I the subject of ridicule? Was there not twin one and twin two right next to me?

Trent took a half step forward, taking a huge risk, and he tried to reconcile with Mr. Yus.

"Look sir-"

"I wasn't talking to you Jackson."

I swear I felt the tension actually rise in the air after that statement, it was intense. Almost like someone took jello and shoved it into the small room, making all of us stuck in the same faintly shocked expression. Well… except Mr. Yus of course.

Mr. T. Yus stood, his hands now flat on his desk, and he towered over me. I felt defense and anger leak off the boys, and they inched in front of me the slightest bit. Was I really the only one confused right now?

"Move demi-gods" demi-what? "Or you will die along with her. We only want the girl."

Why did it always have to be me? Why did I always have to be that one unusual kid that was always the problem? And how the heck did I go from getting in trouble to dying? That's a little extreme if you ask me… ya know, the one who's dying.

"You have to go through us to get to her." Cato almost growled, his hands clenching. He and Trent look almost murderous, like they knew who Mr. Yus was and didn't want him around. I had never seen them getting this angry, and I told to remember this whenever we had a 'who can be the most annoying' contest.

"Wha-" I tried to interject.

"So be it."

Mr. Yus whistled and the dog jumped up onto the desk. We all took a huge stepped back, our backs hitting the front row of desks, and we watch the dog. It started to grow, like a Chia pet stuck next to a sprinkler, stopping when it was about twice its original size, and it looked ten times as murderous. It looked so familiar, like I had seen it before, and then it hit me. It couldn't be possible… but I went for it, praying that I wouldn't look like a lunatic asking it.

"That's Laelaps… that hunting dog that always got his prey, right?" I had seen his picture in my history books once or twice… but I didn't know he was actually real!

Mr. Yus smirked, moving his lanky hands behind his back.

"The one and only. You're smarter than I thought girl."

Thanks jerk-off.

I ignored the insult, eyes still trained on the dog, and I asked the next question I wondered.

"But… I thought Zeus put him and that fox thing in the sky."

Mr. Yus's smirk moved to a frown, and he glared at the heavens.

"True, that evil man trapped this poor creature in the sky," the smirk returned, "but I pulled a few strings and he's here now. And he's very happy to have you as his first prey."

Almost on cue, the dog growled, looking like it was actually smiling at us, and it got ready to pounce. There was only one thought that came to me, and it wasn't to stand and fight the one creature that never lost its prey. It was run.

I sprinted from the room, pulling the guys with me, and eventually all three of us were dashing equally through the halls. The barks and footsteps of Laelaps echoed after us (like a dog horror movie gone wrong), my pounding heart beat making it hard to guess how close he was, but I kept running none the less.

We stormed into the library, scaring the living daylights out the old librarian who was calming stocking shelves and whistling, and we hid behind the non-fiction section towards the back left corner of the empty dust-filled library. Yeah, the perfect spot to hid from a mental dog and his whack-job owner.

Trent pulled out his rarely used cell phone and dialed a number. I looked at him like he was crazy, seeing as making a phone call when you're getting chased but a flawless hunting dog isn't appropriate (like Yes can I have an extra large cheese pizza but to go because I'm kind of in a tight spot right now), but I heard the conversation in hushed whispers, thankful it wasn't a pizza guy.

"Mom! We need help… yes, I know it's dangerous using my phone but…. No I… mom! We need HELP… Bring dad… yes… no we left them at home… yes I know it was a stupid idea! Can you just… we're in the library…. Hurry!" He snapped the phone closed and looked around the corner, the library eerily quiet. I waited for the Jaws theme song to come on as we waited anxiously.

"Guys, what the hell is going on?" I questioned them, feeling confused anger rise in me. Why did they know what was going on but I didn't? I hated being out of the loop.

Cato and Trent shared a glance, and then turned back to me. They quickly started their 'twin talk', which meant one would start talking and they'd go back and forth till they were done talking and I could barley understand what the heck they were saying. Trent started.

"Look Gwen-"

"-we didn't want-"

"-you to be involved. We just-"

"-need you to-"

"-trust us with-"

"-this." Cato finished, looking at me sadly. Trent had the same expression, but that only confused me more. I understood all of that clearly, but what weren't they telling me?

Suddenly, the doors burst open, the noise giving us that clue from behind the book shelf, and the growling continued. Show time.

"Where are you little heroes? This could've been so much easier."

Mr. Yus.

Fear and rage filled me, my fists shaking in my lap, and I glared through the book shelf. Who was this guy? Why did he have to ruin the last day of school for us? And why was I so important? I wanted answers to these questions so bad it was making my skin crawl in anxiety.

Cato noticed my anger and he gripped my fists, looking me in the eye. His look said to calm down, to stop before I hurt someone or myself, and I listened. I just wanted it all to stop.

"You know I met twins like you once," Mr. Yus's voice got closer, the growling besides him, "Of course they were immortal and much more dangerous, but that doesn't madder. I still hate twins, and you two are no exception. I'll take and ruin your girl just like I took theirs. Sure yours is a friend and theirs was a mother… but I'm not picky."

That's not creepy at all (*holds up giant card that says SARCASM*)

He was greeted with silence, and he chuckled one last thing.

"Don't know who I am yet? You're just missing it."

My head started zooming with his words, thinking of possibilities of who he was and what was the 'it' he was referring to, his story sounding so familiar, when it hit me like… like a stapler. He had the same story as Tityus; the titan who tried to rape Artemis and Apollo's mother and for punishment was chained to a rock to have his liver eaten by vultures every day, but this couldn't be the same guy could it? He wasn't real… was he? If he was, I was really hoping the so called 'ruin' he was talking about, wasn't the same for me as it was for their mom.

Before I could even say anything, a new voice entered the library, sounding a little older and much wittier.

"Shouldn't you be chained to a rock dealing with your liver problems?"

The three of us peaked out our heads around the corner, wanting to see who it was, and relief and dread filled my body. Mr. and Mrs. Jackson stood near the front of the library, wearing the same outfit from that morning, but they both had swords in their hand; Mr. Jackson's a long sword that glowed slightly and Mrs. Jackson a bronze dagger that glinted wickedly. When'd they get those and where could I get one?

Mr. Yus turned, Laelaps at attention near his side, and he scowled at Mrs. Jackson's question, as if it brought up some bad memory. Oh wait… right… the vultures. Got it, I'm up to speed now. Let's continue.

"Don't bring it up!" he hissed, shaking with anger, "It's none of your business daughter of Athena," daughter of who? "why don't you just take yourself and leave me to my business? I have important madders to discuss with Ms. Clayborn."

I shivered involuntarily at my name, the way he said my name made it seem like I was an appetizer for his three course meal, and I felt the boys tense near me. They wouldn't attack; they wanted to see what their parents would do first, and frankly, so did I.

Mr. Jackson stepped forward, hand gripping his blade tighter, and he spoke darkly, "You won't touch her. You want her; you gotta get through us first. Plus, Tityus, I'm pretty sure we can take on an old vulture lunchable and his pet constellation."

The two of them raised their weapons, emphasizing their point, and that only made Mr. Yus angrier.

"Get them."

Tityus' order made Laelaps move, his body leaping from ten feet away, and the two eldest Jackson sprung into action.

They split, avoiding the killer dog, and they ran different direction. Mrs. Jackson came towards us, skidding to a halt behind our shelf, and she knelt down to our level.

"Alright, so you're father's got Laelaps distracted for a while-"

"ANNABETH!"

"Ok maybe not as long as I thought. Take these," she handed the twins weapons that looked like theirs, (was I the only one without a cool weapon?) "get her out of here." She pointed at me when she finished talking, then she stood and ran over towards Mr. Jackson's yelling voice.

My head was whirling with information, all of it took much to handle, but I rose to my feet none the less. We had to leave, even if it wasn't going to help clear things up.

"Let's move."

Even if I felt bad about leaving Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, judging by how they were out numbering the dog and taking it down slowly, I had a feeling they would be fine.

"Percy now!"

We watched from the front door, mesmerized, and Mr. Jackson slashed at Laelaps, a salami sized thick gash appearing on its belly. It whimpered painfully, slamming down on the ground, and it suddenly burst into a million tiny stars. All the stars started to float up towards the ceiling, going straight through the neon lights, and the dog was gone.

Tityus yelled out in rage, glaring at the Jacksons. His scrawny figure shook with rage, and if his eyes weren't so murderous, I'd compare him to a five year old who was on the verge of a temper tantrum.

"I'll be back, and when I do come back, I'll make sure to take her with me."

Tityus' eyes landed on me, smirking once, before he clapped his hands together and sent a wave that rippled the library, sending us all flying out of it.

Windows broke, shelves fell over, and the five of us took a great trip through the glass door and skidding down the hallway. The fire alarm was set off, sprinklers starting to soak everything, and I sat up slowly, looking around as my ears rang.

Well that went well.

Mr. Jackson was sprawled across the floor, one foot in the low water fountain and the other on the tile floor. Mrs. Jackson was on top of him, her head on his chest and her body facing the broken doors of the library, the two together almost making a T shape. Trent was slumped against a wall, his sword still in his hand but his shoe missing, and Cato was halfway in the guy's bathroom door, probably scaring the crap out of any guys who were in there.

I lay in the middle of the hall, my body somehow managing to become parallel to the library doors, and I groaned in pain. We all grumbled and grunted, soaking wet and trying to get up. I felt like someone tied a rope around my waist, jerked me backwards, ran me through a glass compacter, and hung me out on a tile wall in a rain storm

"Doesn't look like we didn't destroy something today." Cato remarked, crawling out of the bathroom.

"A new school next year?"

"No doubt." Mr. Jackson answered his wife, the two untangling themselves.

I was so confused it wasn't even funny. What just happened? Why were they all so calm about it? Was that all real? If so, HOW is it real?

I turned and looked at the boys, both now sitting by each other. They returned the look, but my glare soon made them scared.

"You two have a lot of explaining to do."

A/N: Will the boys ever get to explain? Will Trent find his shoe? Will Tityus get Gwen? Will I stop asking you these questions? Ok guys! Hope you liked it. R and R! Thanks! Also, if you want to ask me questions, you can review and ask them. I will answer them in the next chapter. Just leave a name I can address you by then your question. THANKS GUYS!