URGENT: MUST READ!

Author's Note: I'm still reading the Percy Jackson series, so please don't tell me any spoilers! I'm on the last book. But I know the obvious things: Percy doesn't die and he likes Annabeth. Otherwise, if you spoil anything I will hate you forever. Enjoy!

You know what sucks balls? Not knowing who the hell your parents were. For all my sixteen years of living, the only thing I knew was that my father died before I was born.

I survived on my own on the streets of Rhode Island. How did I do it? That I don't know. When I went hunting for food, it was pretty easy. I was six when someone finally found me and decided to help. I still remember it so clearly.

It was the middle of December and I was in shorts and a T-shirt that I stole from one of the beach stores. Surprisingly, I wasn't cold at all. I remember I was running away from something—I forget what is was, but it surely wasn't human. When I finally got away by hiding behind a dumpster with a knife glued to my hand, a young couple looked at me funnily.

"Are you alright? You must be freezing!" exclaimed the lady with brown curls. She immediately took off her jacket and hung it on my shoulders. "Where are your parents?"

"I—I don't have any," I whispered, suddenly feeling a wave of sadness.

"Paula, we can't just let her stay here by herself. Let's get her inside," called the man behind her holding the dog leash.

"Yes, we have to. Come with us. What's your name?" the lady asked, squatting down to see my face clearly.

"Alexa," I said calmly, then closed my eyes. "Alexa Johnson."

It's been 10 years since then.

"Alexa! Darling, come downstairs for breakfast! I made your favorite, chocolate chip pancakes!" called Paula—Mrs. Defino, my foster mom.

I looked in the mirror. I didn't have acne like all the regular kids my age, which was a good thing—I guess. My eyes are green with specks of brown and my long, black hair was down today. My hair is so straight to the point where it looks like I've straightened it.

"Coming!" I yelled, then walked down the marble staircase. Every step I took echoed. You could say that I was a rich kid. Paula works as a sergeant for the Long Island Memorial Hospital and Tim—Mr. Defino, is a cook.

The smell of chocolate lingered in the air and I took a deep breath. Mmh, chocolate pancakes. The only reason why I wake up in the morning.

"Good morning," I greeted, dancing over to Paula then giving her a kiss on the cheek. She was making her last couple of pancakes—probably for Tim.

"Good morning," Mr. and Mrs. Defino said in unison with different enthusiasm. Paula sang it with a smile and Tim was busy reading the newspaper with his coffee.

Paula set pancakes in front of me as I took a seat across from Tim. He lowered down his newspaper as Paula sat next to him.

"We wanted to talk to you about something," Paula sighed, then gave her husband a hopeful look.

"We are deciding to send you to camp. It's for your own safety, for you to get to know yourself more." Tim took another sip from his coffee.

What? Get to know myself more? Does he know that I've been seeing out of the ordinary things lately?

"Oh, uhm. When am I leaving?" I asked, taking a bite out of my pancake.

"Tonight," Paula answered.