I'm going to be blunt with you. This is, more or less, a love story. I'm not gonna lie and say that it's got all of the awesome battles and heroes and warriors, or something like, I don't know, children of gods (ha! How ridiculous would that be?). Sorry to break it to you, but we're just people. Regular old, dramatic people. We were young and stupid, and we happened to meet and fall into what we thought was love. Seventeen really is too young, believe me. Cherish your youth while it lasts because it does not go on forever. One day you'll be sitting in an apartment and wondering where the hell your life went wrong, just like me. (Okay, I'm far from a bad life but more on that later.) Back to what I was saying...love. Right. It is possibly the most overused and dramatic emotion in the history of humanity. Wise men slave over the puzzlement of 'love' and what it means. It is passion, fury, hate, desire, pleasure, romance, pain, all of those things. Everyone wants love in their life, and I, sadly, was no exception. Once again, seventeen truly is too young. I don't necessarily like to lie, but I like to think that it takes a certain skill to be able to be a pathological liar like me. Call it what you will, lying is just another part of my life, sad as that seems to be. Most people argue over the concept of the main things in life; happiness, wealth, and love. Those are just a few, but love is always in there. Happiness is often associated with love, but not always. Romeo and Juliet aren't a famous symbolism for nothing. Their story tells the tale of two young lovers willing to sacrifice even their lives for each other, with a theme and meaning so deep it touches the hearts of nations and poets throughout the years. Love is such an important thing that everyone wants and cannot live without. Personally, I believe that oxygen is more important, and the only theme I can ever find within that dreadful play is that love is tragic and we all end up dying in the end.

(I can imagine this is where I part ways with some- if not most- of you. Boring you already? My apologies, but I did start off with a decent warning, did I not?)

I don't mean to sound overbearing, but you're here to listen to a good story, right? Maybe entertain yourself with the horrible writing? Well, I've always been more of an architect myself, but to each his own, remember that. Let me try again; you are here to listen to a story, probably about me and my love interest, and goad over the tragic lessons of life that are really of no value? Here's the thing- I'm fictional. I know it. I'm just a character that will never have a place in your world and will forever remain a figment of your imagination for the rest of your life. I'm not real. I could be, I suppose. But the me you are hearing from now is simply the product of someone's imagination and wifi. (Sorry.) However, I could very well still be a person. Whether I be merely words on a screen or an actual being, I suppose that's up for you to decide. But this is a story all the same, one I personally think is worth telling. Who knows? You might even learn something. I have come to realize that people don't like to change their opinions, so perhaps that's a bit much to hope for.

Moving on now, if you are still here, this isn't just a love story. It's my life. Or, a portion of it. I'm sure if this were actually my life I'd fall dead of boredom, myself. But, of course, it has other aspects. Ones that you can probably connect with. So, maybe I lied when I said that there were no heroes. The only problem, I'm not quite sure who was who. Just like the saying goes, there's two sides to everything. I suppose that's a lie, too. There's more than just two. There can be three, four, five, as many as there possibly can be. But I'm only one person so you're a bit limited. (Sorry.)

I will tell you now that some of this story, you will not like. I'm not exactly proud of everything I did or everything that happened. Maybe if I were braver or just overall... Too late, I guess. That's another thing, do not believe them when they say it's never too late. Sometimes, certain things can be overdue, but often times, the moment comes, passes, and you're left with nothing but regrets and too late's. How are you supposed to know when the moment comes? Simple- you don't. No one does. If they say they do, they are lying. Sometimes you hit it right on the mark and sometimes it just flies completely overhead. There's nothing you can do. I sound an awful lot like a pessimist. I probably am. Can you blame me? Well, of course not, you don't even know me. But don't worry, you will. If you care to do so and keep reading. You cannot fail to look inside something simply because it does not look appealing or eye catching. Those are the best ones. What are they? I wonder. I fear I do not know that myself. Lots of people believe them to be books. I think them to be simple metaphors. My brain is hardwired for logic and plain fact, you'll have to excuse me. I get along better with numbers, letters, and a sketchpad than a person. Give me calculus or chemistry any day.

I sincerely hope this story does come to satisfaction to you. It was quite endearing, and I'm not entirely sure if it was worth it. The choices we make heavily inflict upon our futures, don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Seize the moment, they will say. You have to look into their eyes and say, 'there are more important things'. Because, really, there are. Your life will move on whether you're ready or not. Here's the secret grownups fail to tell you; the real world sucks. It's a dark, dangerous place where there's no one you can trust. You are going to be on your own and you're going to have to just deal with it because God knows that's all we can ever do. Believe me this one time when I tell you that I am not lying. I don't want to frighten you of the future or anything, but it's the truth.

(Sorry.)

It's just the same routine over and over again. Why don't they get it? I'm just not interested. It's not like I have the whole school wrapped around my finger, but there are still more guys than I'd like that are interesting in capturing my attention. Oh, give me a break. It's always been me and me alone. Me, myself, and I against the world. I think I heard Reyna say that once. Seems fitting enough. But honestly, everyone is a bit melodramatic.

High school has been the same story three years in a row. I can remember a time when I actually wanted to be noticed a little, back in freshman year when I was still invisible Annabeth. What I wouldn't give for one day of that again. It's not that my life is bad, I have plenty of friends, but they don't really know me, and I prefer to keep it that way. In a few months, I'll be out of New York and somewhere far away, where I'll probably never see any of them ever again. So, what does it matter, really? Who cares if you're popular or good at sports? I certainly don't. Academics are way more important than anything. Sure, sports scholarships are always offered, but what can you do with that? Nobody made success without hard work and dedication.

Which is what I intend- success. That's all that's in my future, and I will do anything to keep it there. It's not really sacrificing a social life for good grades when you never had one in the first place. But I could care less. Maybe I'll wonder what the Friday night parties are like, or the regular hangout place everyone insists upon, but I have homework to do, studying to worry about. Others should be more open to the future. It's closer than they think, and creeps up second by second, and you don't even realize it's gone until it is. I can't afford petty distractions like those things. Dating is another thing I find completely pointless. So why bother? Because simple logic. All the great love stories start with the girl despising the opposite gender. They don't acknowledge them, and yet all the guys want her. I don't want to be in that situation. That just ends up being more work on my behalf. So, instead, I accept any boy who is brave (or stupid, take your pick) enough to ask me out. But I don't like leaving any roots. I can almost feel the letter of acceptance in my hands and I don't need anything tying me down. It edges off most of the suitors, and yet, I still don't give off the right vibe. They still seem to sense that I'm not interested and attempt to break down my icy facade that I let down for no one. Why would they think that they're special? They're all no different from the rest. Just like me. Why am I so desirable? I'm just ordinary. By all definition, I guess I'm not bad looking. I am not vain nor insecure, just honest.

The name of the boy before me completely slips my mind. Should I feel bad? Yes, definitely. But my pride won't allow me to feel sorry for someone I'll only know for a week or so.

"And...um, I was wondering...if...maybe, you wanted to...go out sometime?" he stammers. I'll admit, I appreciate the gesture. I don't exactly want to be intimidating, I just want to be invisible. Appreciate going unnoticed, it doesn't last forever. But, instead, I plaster a smile to my face and kindly accept his offer. The boy seems to light up with confidence after this. I'm glad he's not like others. All the ones before thought that they were the best thing in the world and wanted a hard-to-get girl who would give them a challenge. Too bad they thought they could break me when I am unbreakable. I'm trained especially for these types of things. My future has a lot of things in it but 'relationships' aren't one of them. They take too much time, effort, commitment, and overall emotion. I probably sound like a robot, but it is truly easier to focus when I don't have anything else to worry about.

It's the same routine over and over again. They smile like they've just won a Nobel Peace Prize, and I remain calm and collected behind closed castle walls they foolishly believe I've let down for them. It's the same story, a new chapter that's just as repetitive and pointless as the last. I cant help but worry that my entire life will always be like this, but college will be better. I'll be able to be successful and take back my life that I have devoted to my future. Not that I really want to be in any sort of social spotlight, but being able to breathe every now and then would be nice. I'm already ahead on almost all of my classes and I have a good record, I can't afford to think otherwise. School was created to learn, not to be social. I wish other people would learn that. No, maybe not learn, understand would be better. Drama is just a topic that comes along with high school and I try to avoid it as much as possible. Of course I've gotten caught up in it before, but only in the past couple years when someone thought it would be funny to make fun of my intelligent status. The previous years before, I'm not even sure if anyone knew my name.

Let me get something straight; I'm not really all that popular. I just happen to be on the good side of quite a few people who are. Goode High neither hates me nor loves me, it simply knows me. I don't have anyone piling up in line just to say hi to me, or anyone hiding in the corners hating me with every fiber of their beings. It's a nice feeling, but it's still a little too exposed for me. My mother, Athena, abandoned me to my father when I was just a baby, and he never really knew what to do with me. Plus, Frederick Chase isn't exactly the kind of person to be the loving father type. Both of us prefer to be on our own. Well, he did, and I eventually learned to. The attention made me uncomfortable because it was unnatural. Perhaps I might have turned out differently if he loved me as much as my step brothers, as he always seems to find time for them, but I'm too used to it to be jealous. I've never known the relationship between me and my parents, so I've never wanted one. Looking back on my childhood, it does seem rather bleak and, well, nonexistent, but it's too late to change. I'm a firm believer that some, if not most, things can, indeed, become too late.

"Is there any expectations you have for me?" the boy asks. As I make a mental note to look through the yearbook for his name, the ever present question comes up. More or less, it's the same thing. They all ask it, I give the same reply, and they all give the same answer. The question of what I want from them, maybe they want me to ask what they want of me. The truth is that I don't really care what they want from me. It's not about them, this is simply so I can avoid all of the high school drama. Maybe, just the tiniest bit, that makes me a player, but I try to be good and nice and I never intentionally break anyone's heart. They are the ones that believe that I can come to care for them the way I care for my grades, when in reality, they should know that the chances of that happening are roughly one to never. What's the point of becoming attached if you're just going to leave? Keep moving around, it's harder to collect dust that way. Dust just wears you down, anyway.

I try to smile, but it doesn't quite reach my eyes. I don't think he notices. "Just one."

"And that is?" he asks expectantly.

Practiced, memorized, and perfected, I recite exactly what I've always said; "If you walk out of my life, don't ever try to talk to me."

He looks a little taken back, but all the same, he nods. "Okay," is what he says- what they always say. It's always the same, like a routine all of us are too afraid to break. Maybe we are. I don't really understand this all. I'm hoping I can find some excuse before we even go on a real "date". I'm sure some would argue that I need to live a little more, but if I live now, what will become of the future? Maybe when I get there I can slow down, but I'm still prime in my youth. I don't want to become someone who has no idea what to do with their lives when they get too old to have multiple paths to choose. I don't exactly know where my destination is, but it's further than this. I'm only seventeen and I have a world ahead of me that needs conquering.

I gather my books in arm, walking through the halls. No one else is in sight as I walk down the halls, yet I still keep my gray eyes cast down and my blonde locks shadowing my face. Most of the time it's pulled back but I like to have a little variety. My calculus book is extra heavy today and I try not to struggle with it. That would seem like I was asking for help and Annabeth Chase does not ask for help. And I'm speaking in the third person now, grrreeeat, I've become one of those people. My thoughts are way too scattered and I mentally scold them alongside my step. Calculus, as well as chemistry, AP English, AP history, and Latin notes are balanced on top of a binder I never use. My plain messenger book bag should probably be more useful than it is, but it's filled with pointless things, primarily being college applications and pamphlets as well as sketches of building designs. Not like I ever really go through with them, I don't have the experience or the tools, but I really like the topic. The numbers make sense in my mind and I can't wait until I can leave this city. Don't get me wrong, I love New York, but I don't want to be stuck here forever. Most people would dream of just being here to start with, but not me. All I want is out. I've grown up here, it's time to move on now. Just a few more months and I'm free.

I can always manage my things. It's one of the things I pride myself in, being able to handle things myself, on a deeper level than just my books, papers, and notes. I always do my best so it's always my best work and I would like to make sure they are safely carried and delivered. So of course I'm flustered when all of a suddenly my things go toppling out of my hands and spilling across the floor. All of my carefully organized papers completely scattered.

"Are you kidding me?" I mutter before bending down to pick up the mess. I awkwardly press my legs into a 'w' shape and bend over, pushing a few bangs behind my ear. My fuddled green sweater is much too large and flops down over my hands. I furrow my brow in disapproval. My jeans are probably much too baggy for any of the others' taste, and then they have the boot-cut where they actually covers the tops of my old, worn, over used red Converse that are really more of a burgundy as my feet have failed to outgrow these shoes for the past five years and I don't dare ask for new ones. Plus, I'm sure I look like a total loser sitting by myself in an empty hallway picking up fallen papers. I sigh to myself and push a stray lock back in place. I did say I liked variety, but often times my hair just gets in the way. I can't really do anything to it. I can't use a straightener without endangering myself, the general area around me, or both, and I can only do a simple side braid. My curls may look appealing but they're much too difficult to deal with. Sometimes I think about cutting it all off, but as much of a pain it is, I am partial to longer hair. And I suppose it's not all bad. Over the years, my bright blonde has darkened into more of a darker blonde, smoothing out. There were still plenty of fly-aways but I have to give it credit, half the time it doesn't look that bad.

"Need some help?" someone asks me.

I sigh and flash my helper a smile. "Sure, thanks." It takes me a minute to realize who it is, but I feel proud when I do. Goode High isn't exactly a small school.

Percy Jackson crouches down beside me. His hair is damp enough to appear wet but not enough to ruin my papers, thankfully. He's the captain of the swim team and I hadn't even realized that the pool is right next to this area, so of course he might be passing through. His black hair is longer than I remember, and more tame although that might be due to the dampness. He's got quite a bit of height on me just from looking at him. I suppose he has a muscular build but I can't really tell beneath his T-shirt and baggy shorts. I don't know anything negative about Percy Jackson, but I haven't exactly heard a lot about him period. He sort of slips under the radar here, something that I seriously envy. He's wearing a baggy Goode High swim team shirt with khaki shorts and what I believe are Vans. He keeps his eyes low so I can study him secretively. It's this thing I do, I like to know my surroundings. Percy's entire presentation just screams, 'don't notice me'. There's nothing that stands out on him that I can see. His black backpack with a Goode High swim team logo on the front rests against the wall where he must have set it down when he saw me picking up this wreck.

He doesn't try to talk to me, and I'm thankful. I don't really know what we could say or even talk about. Which is sad considering we've been in the same school since elementary school. Or, wait...maybe he moved here in...middle school? I can't really remember. And that's really sad because it was only a little over than ten years ago. Wow. I was alive ten years ago. Time really does fly. Either way, I don't see him around much. The swim team is successful from what I've heard but it's never been something as important as football or baseball or basketball. I believe they went to state last year, though, so they can't be all that bad. I do admire people who do what they like and devote themselves to it.

He hands me a stack of papers with a sketchbook that must have slipped out resting on top. "Here," he offers. I gratefully take them.

"Sorry about that. Thank you, anyhow," I nod my head in a sophisticated manner, adding it to my bustling arms. This is what I get for being smart, I suppose. Second semester's just began and I have to be prepared for all the new lessons coming up. I have credits to earn and SAT tests to practice. It's a good thing my father has a good job, those tests are something ridiculous, like eighty dollars, give or take.

He shrugs easily. "No problem." With that, he walks away, gracefully leaning down to grab and swing his backpack over his shoulder. Before he leaves, though, he turns to me and says, "His name's Chris. Chris Rodriguez."

"Excuse me?" I respond.

"The guy," he nods in the way the boy who I had just agreed to date had run off in. "That's his name."

I blink once or twice (or several times). How did he know that I wasn't aware of the boy's name? I voice my question through stutters, and he chuckles lowly. "I just assumed, I guess."

Then, Percy Jackson (who is not on a first name basis) shoves his hand in his pocket, grasping the backpack strap with the other, and strides away. His gait is long and slow, yet I bet I would have to pace to keep up with it. Hmm, what an interesting thought. Why would I be walking next to Percy Jackson in the first place? I think I've talked to him once or twice. I remember a little how I helped him to the nurse's office when he had gotten hit by a ball. If he had only ducked sooner... Well, I suppose I was the one who had thrown it, the least I could have done was to help the poor kid out. I'm not completely heartless. I'm sure plenty would disagree. I might even want to add myself to that list. Oh well. I can worry about those kinds of things later. For now, I just walk away and forget about the whole strange encounter.

It's only a few minutes after I get home that I lose the boy's- ahem, Chris Rodriguez's- number that he ever-so-graciously supplied me with. I don't mean to, I swear, things like this just happen. I try my very hardest to keep things organized and this is what happens. At least it's not something that's majorly important. Except that, well, it kind of is. Or, should be, at least. I should be devastated and instead I'm just...blank? Emotionless? I don't know. Either way, I can't help but feel just some sort of relief. Yet, I really should text him, or maybe even call him. Maybe he's expecting me to make the first move. I sure hope he isn't. If he is, well, he'll be waiting for a long time. Like, try the rest of his life because that's how soon I'll fall in love.

It's not that I don't believe in love. I believe that it exists, I just don't think it's meant to last. Take my parents for example. Athena and Frederick Chase met, fell in love, had a baby, and then separated, leaving me at a crossroads and both of them with a broken heart. Or, at least, I like to think that it pained Athena to leave her infant child on the doorstep of her father who was a stranger. Food for my thoughts, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. My brain likes to work a little too fast and at times it can become a bit much to handle. Think of it like an engine. It can overheat, and if it does, then one's in trouble. It just needs time to cool down every now and then and it's good as new, can't even tell they were drained.

Nothing lasts forever; that's the main lesson of it all. Everything has a purpose, whether for good or ill, and sooner or later, that purpose will either be met or failed. Either way, they are done, no longer needed, tossed away and discarded like the junk it really is. There's no way to prevent it or conquer it. It's all just a matter of luck and tactic. The only thing you can really do is cross your fingers and hope for the best. Some get lucky, others don't. That's just the natural balance of the world. Like the story of Pandora's box we learned about last year. Curiosity killed the cat, so to speak. It's not just the cat, though. He's not the only one at fault. Mostly, the only thing we can blame is fate. I feel I have been lucky and kind-hearted (or, at least, tried to be), so I sure hope I get shown maybe some kindness. If not, well, what can I do other than push on? Nothing, that's what. I'll keep fighting, no, you won't see me give up. Not now, not ever. If fate decides to be cruel later down the road, I have a backup plan. I can take my life in my own hands, thank you very much. The only one anyone will ever see protecting me is me, that is one thing that will never change. I've worked hard to be where I am, and I'm so close to finishing it all up. Fate won't stand in my way, and neither will school.

Which is why I have a boatload of AP homework I work on for roughly an hour before I have until two am to study for. I probably do need a life, but overachieving isn't a crime, now, is it? This has to earn me some credit for being able to function fully and completely on three hours of sleep and morning coffee black as my soul. Maybe not. It's probably not healthy, I should know, I had to take several courses of health that were not a high point in my learning experience, but I don't really care anymore. Some things have to go and sleep is only so necessary. Besides, it's not like I can go back and suddenly care about how I look. Silena, Rachel, and Drew love to play Dress Up Annabeth (the only one seeming to hate that game is, oh, well, what do you know, Annabeth), but I couldn't care less of my appearance. I have a goal, a plan, a bright future. Some things will have to be sacrificed. I don't mind at all, because, after all, I'm only going to be here for a few more months before it's 'goodbye New York'. I refuse to be stuck here for the rest of my days. I have more potential, I can feel it. I want to do something with myself other than be someone I don't want to.

Because I am human, I am also rather selfish. I want a lot of things for myself, I think I can do things better than others, I think I chew as much as I desire to bite off. Some would call it my fatal flaw, I call it my pride. One in the same, I suppose. I don't really like being too standout-ish, which is probably why the walls of my room are painted gray. Super depressing and haunting, I know. It wasn't really my idea and I don't care enough to change it. It's not like there's anyone to see it, though. It's just me in my own little world. I'm good with that. People are just annoying and frustrating and all those glorious things that everyone presides over. I'd much rather stick to the facts and right now, the facts say that I probably need to get a life.

Go figure.

Well, a life can surely wait. I have better things, more important things to take care of. I probably seem hard headed, highly introverted, and perhaps even self conscious. That's because I am, okay? I set my mind to something, I achieve it. I don't care about a social status because I don't need one. I'm only seventeen, my whole life is ready to be laid out before me. Besides, consuming alcohol is highly dangerous for a minor. It can mess with their brain. It's probably already taken effect on most New Yorkers, not that I'm surprised. Nothing should really come as one, not anymore. But there's this sad truth- the world is filled with surprises, and just when you think you've overcome them all, well, let's just say that while you change, so does the world, and that means more surprises that are renewed every day, hour, minute, second, of our lives. Time is an unbalanced object fixed above our heads and we have to deal with it in our own ways. We're all different, and yet we're not different at all. Humans really are confusing creatures, if you really think about it.

PersnicKety2018 here! Okay, I lied. There's also Rumbling Night Cutter. We have decided to co write this modern human!AU together, ta da! But it's just me right now, so, sorry. Annabeth's POV will be my chapters and Percy's are Rumbling Night Cutter's. We'll try to alternate and keep this interesting and as non-cliche as possible, but who are we kidding? It's a Percabeth story.

Also, for my Soul Of A Dragon readers, I swear I'm working on the next chapter, I just got overly distracted with this story and had to publish it. Hopefully, it will be up soon and then I'll go back to my updating schedule. This story, however, will not have an updating schedule and Rumbling Night Cutter and I will just update when we feel like it/can. Thanks for checking it out and stay tuned for the next chapter!

~'~ PersnicKety2018