My first fanfic! Hope you like it!
I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.
Fourth period science. My first day at Cambridge Middle School.
I was cramped in the back of the room, half sitting, half standing, behind my desk.
In no way was I listening to anything Mrs. Pierce had to say, only this time, it had nothing to do with ADHD.
My eyes were glued to the clock, and its slowpoke of a minute hand. I tried to threaten the clock to move faster.
My hands were sweating, clutching the sides of the desk. Why was I so nervous? My mission was simple. All I had to do was succeed, and Kronos would fulfill my request. He had to.
Just my luck, while I was lost in thoughts, the clock hand shifted and the bell echoed, signaling free period. I snatched my books and scrambled from my desk. Mrs. Pierce tried to say something, but I was already gone.
Once in the halls, I threw my books into a corner. I wouldn't need them anymore, not when I was done.
I rushed through the halls, dodging the other middle schoolers. Though free period wouldn't be over for another 30 minutes, I had to hurry, before anyone discovered my crime and I.
Looking behind me for any followers, I turned a sharp corner and entered a second hall. My eyes scanned the classrooms, searching for the targeted one.
Finally.
The last room in the end of the corridor. Study Hall.
I slipped inside.
The classroom was dim and silent. The teacher was out, as planned, and there was no one else in the room, except the target.
A boy my age, bending over a textbook, fuming and cursing. I wandered toward the back of the room, praying he wouldn't notice me. He didn't even look up.
I came to a stop behind him, pretending to have developed a suddent interest in the Periodic Table.
Taking a breath to calm my nerves, I advanced silently, my hands shaking. I reached into my sleeve, and unsheathed the weapon. A celestial bronze dagger. The blade hissed in contact with air, the green poison frothing around. I adjusted it in my hands, but for some reason, hesitated.
Come on, I fumed, what's wrong with you? Clutching the dagger so hard my knuckles turned white, I drew in a sharp breath.
My hand shook as I readjusted the blade. You can do it, I urged, think of your sister.
My heart grew cold and I shook with barely contained rage.
She'd still be here if it wasn't for... if it wasn't for...
Gritting my teeth, I drew back the knife, and brought it down toward his neck.
Like it? Hate it? Please review! Constructive critisism is accepted.
