"I never hated my neighbors until one of them blew my wall in," I offer to the pregnant woman publicly cursing the people who live in her neighborhood. I can tell she secretly likes them dropping in all the time, even if she is a little aggravated.

She spins around, partly amused at my pained expression and partly horrified, and I catch sight of three brutal scars marring her face. I will my burn to reappear on the back of my leg, because I know I'm going to help her. I'm the only way to get rid of them, unless she gets plastic surgery, and that won't look natural.

Time for my next victim, I decide.

"That must have been a memorable event," the woman gives me a small smile, and I see her scar pulls one of her almond eyes down slightly. "I'm Emily." She offers her hand out to me. She's beautiful, even with the streaks running down her face.

"I'm Alexandra," I say, and I curse myself for telling her my real name. I uncover my pearly whites into a smile to hide it. I pull my cream case out of the wallet pocket of my denim shorts and play with it between my fingers. I strategize how to mention it to her.

Emily doesn't seem to notice it. "What happened with your wall?"

I let loose a sheepish, inwardly pained laugh, "I was at summer camp with my half siblings my mom gets a little busy- and some pranksters from the cabin next door decided to set off firecrackers in the bathroom of my cabin."

I twirl my leg around so my calf faces her. "Let me tell you, it was definitely colorful, but my cabin set fire and I got this." I decided not to mention that Jenna went blind, which was partly for my benefit, because I didn't want to remember the curly haired thirteen year old who was overcome my a hydra in the Titan War. She didn't even know it was there, because there was no sight in her kaleidoscopic orbs. Damn you Stoll brothers!

I also failed to mention that my burn did not, in fact, stem from that event at all, but a fire-breathing dragon.

This was probably more plausible to Emily.

Lo siento, I thought of Emily's scars in the limited Spanish I had learned from Leo. I feel your pain. So he is good for something other than finding said dragon, attaching wings, and naming it Festus. And he, Piper, and Jason rode off on Happy the Dragon.

Emily gave me an empathetic look. "Mine came from a bear attack."

I had a feeling she wasn't telling the truth, but I didn't push it. Apollo's blessing had to count for something. I had a bit of foresight, not enough to take over Rachel's position, unfortunately, because everyone loves living in a cave (can't account for taste). I guess I could shoot an arrow; sometimes it hits the target even. But really, Apollo's blessing helps me heal scars that keep people from seeing inner beauty. (My mom, Aphrodite had to BEG him to do this, and I think he agreed if she let him date one of her daughters in peace).

Aphrodite wouldn't be winning the Mom of the Year award anytime soon, but I appreciated the gesture.

I held up the cream container I'd been fiddling with. "This is scar cream, I haven't tried it yet, but everyone whose tried it says it works wonders. I got it from my mom," (it's probably the only birthday present, I've ever gotten from her, but I didn't mention that), "Um, I'm trying to do everything I can to forget that. I still have nightmares, but I'm kind of nervous to try it. It might be a little assuming of me to say this, but I'll try it if you will?"

I somehow knew it was the right thing to say, because Emily can see, anyone in this store could glance at me and be sure I'm trying desperately to forget shit something awful.

The s-word doesn't even begin to describe the nightmares.

Now, I'm no Percy or Annabeth; there's no way in hell I could survive even a quarter of the fucked-up-ed-ness they'd experienced, but even without charm-speaking like the evil Shrew (Drew), I know how to get people to do what I want.

Emily twirls her hair with her pinky finger, and I see an internal battle raging through the windows of her soul. Her beautiful brown eyes didn't seem conflicted very long, I can see that side for "Operation help the poor pretty girl forget shit" or HFG (Help Girls Forget) because the acronym for my operation title was just weird. I can see her motherly instincts kicked and prevented her from making the other choice. She nods.

She though she was helping me, but it was the other way around. "Okay, I can't believe I'm agreeing to this... but Alexandra, don't be too disappointed if it doesn't work out."

I smiled as if excited, "Okay!" and I grab her hand and help her in shopping for what seems like an army.

"That's a shitload of food," I comment as she lifts five twelve-packs of Dr. Pepper into a cart, "Planning on locking the entire population of La Push in your house for a month?"

She chuckles, "No, my fiance has a lot of friends who eat like wolves." She shakes her head, as if thinking of an inside joke, "They never fail to surprise me on how much they can stuff into their mouths and still be good-looking."

I smirk at her good-naturedly. "Are any of them single? Because I'd like my future kids to inherit that kind of metabolism." If I live long enough to give birth. Besides I'd probably balance it out, because I can't eat a scoop of ice cream without gaining ten pounds.

She gives me a look that says 'Who knows?' and promises to set me up with one of them.

We pay together at the cash register. I look away from the cashier itching to get out of his lustful gaze. He doesn't notice my scar. He doesn't look any lower than my ass of any higher than my chest.

All I get is a New York cheesecake muffin and a tub of ice cream- she doesn't know it yet, but it's for her. I've had plenty of people sob when their scars disappears as if it never happened. Let me tell you- ice cream is the solution to all the problems: world peace, global warming, world hunger. I think it could save the pandas. Fro-yo is the cure for obesity and pudding is the meaning of life.

Bananas fight cancer.

We carry a conversation about the hot guys that stampede her house for the meals she's purchasing food to prepare for.

Emily and I convey the plastic bags full of products for aforementioned hot guys to her car, which brings up the subject of- "Alexandra, do you have a car? Where do you want to do this? Should we go to your house?-"

"Emily, relax. I currently do not have a car... I'm on a walkabout," I guess you could describe my search for the son of the sea god, Hero of Olympus, Child of the Great Prophecy, as that, "so my house isn't nearby."

Nope, it's all the way in the Big Apple, but knowing Percy (Well, the closest I've been to him is pecking him on the cheek with some of my sisters when he let the children of love use to "perfume thing" as he so eloquently described it in his sixteenth birthday) he could be anywhere. Annabeth figured I could search Washington and Montana to get our bases covered.

"Where do you live?" Emily inquired, as we finished loading the bags into the trunk of her car.

"Long Island, New York." I reply, clutching my NY cheesecake muffin. "For some reason, nobody recognizes my accent." I'm fine with that, I don't really relish the inflection of our pronunciation the way I do British accents.

British guys are just like, Yum! "I dated a British guy once." I mention. " There's something about their accent that makes swearing sound polite."

Emily laughs, but doesn't comment, because she can see I'm not finished talking.

I continue, "We broke up because all I wanted to do was make him say "zebra" and "potato" and test out why British guys lose their accent when they sing, because I will never understand the science behind that."

"Come to my house," She laughs, "We can do the scar thing there and I can make a guy from the pack date you so you never have to leave."

"The pack?" I inquire. "Are they hot?" Another, more important thought occurs to me, "Do they have accents?"

How do you guys like this so far? Yeah, it's only the beginning not as interesting as it could've been, but maybe I'll go back and do some editing.

So I know I haven't been the most trustworthy person on Fan fiction as of late, or ever. But I'm really feeling this right now and will update as soon as possible.

I don't own any publicly recognizable characters, because if I did, I would NOT be writing on Fan fiction, but blowing my money somewhere in Los Angeles.

Walkabout- it's an australian tradition to go out and find yourself in the wild, but Alex kind of changed it

Love you guys and... here's a quiz for y'all.

What song does this come from?

"If I could fall, into the sky

Do you think time would pass me by, bye

'Cause you know I've walk a thousand miles just to see you

Tonight"

And actually please tell me because it's all I can remember from that song and I don't know the name of it.