I do not won Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Rick Riordan owns the rights.

This is my first story, but review it honestly. I want all the constructive criticism I can get in order to become a better story writer.

I've never lived in the same place for very long. My mom is constantly moving us around, saying it's because of her work, but I know better. Everywhere we go the same strange guy shows up. Once he was a neighbor, another time he was the mailman. I don't know why, but he seems completely intent on not letting us out of his sight.

I haven't told my mom that I know about the man. She already has enough troubles on her hand, what with finding work and a school that will take a kid that has been expelled from five public schools. That really doesn't look good on your permanent record.

We were living in on the first of a small, poor apartment complex when he showed up again. This time he was the UPS deliverer dropping off a small thin package, probably about half a foot long. When I answered the door, he was already on his way back to the truck, but he glanced over his shoulder as he climbed into the truck. I shuddered as his dark, soulless eyes burned deep into mine, but quickly turned away.

I crouched down and picked up the small package, and weighed it in my hand. It felt as light as a feather, and strangely warm. I looked for the sender address, but the box was unmarked except the bold words CATHY SWARMER printed boldly on the top of the box. Cathy was my mother's first name, but I almost stopped breathing at the following name. My mom said Swarmer was my father's last name, and she made me promise to never mention it while I lived under her roof.

I wondered why someone was using my mother's married name when she was legally divorced, and she now used her maiden name, Tailor.

"Yo, Collin!" a voice drifted down the street, and a small group of teenagers stepped out from one of the alley ways that ran between the apartments, "Wanna play some b-ball?"

"Be right out!" I called back, "I just gotta give something to my mom."

A boy separated himself from the group of teens, and and walked down the road (The neighbor hood was to poor to have sidewalks). When he reached my door, he yanked the small box out of my hand, and started expecting it.

"Is this a present for your mommy?" he said in a mocking tone, "What's in it"

I yanked it back, aware that the rest of the teens had arrived at the door. "I don't know what it is. Someone delivered it to us less than a minute ago."

"Due, your lying," a new voice piped up from the back of the crowd. It was this kid Carson from down the street, "Even I can see that it doesn't have any addresses on it. How would the delivery man know were to take it?"

"Look, it doesn't really matter. Lets just play some basket ball," I rushed inside and dropped the box on the table, "Be outside mom!"

"Be careful!" I heard her call from the one other room in the apartment, "Was there anything in the mail?"

I glanced towards the package, an uneasy feeling growing in my stomach, "Yeah!