A/N I have used some of my own characters for this story, but don't worry. You will still hear from the original characters! I mean, what is Camp Half-Blood without Percy Jackson?

EDIT: Changed a few things about Katrina's description!

I was suddenly sitting at a small circular table. I looked around and saw Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of Love and Beauty sitting across from me, her constantly changing appearance making me a little dizzy. "So?" she inquired as she looked at me, obviously trying not to burst out laughing. "Do you like what I chose for you?" Startled, I looked down and saw that I was wearing a big, sparkly, pink dress. "What the-

I jerked awake, the constant beeping of my alarm clock ringing in my ears as I fumbled around blindly to shut it off. Unable to find the button in my sleep caused haze, I settled for just ripping the cord out of the wall.

Now, let me explain. I am not just some random teen with an over-active imagination that fell asleep cramming for her Greek finals and an immense hatred for the color pink. No, it happens to be much worse than that. See, I happen to be your average teenage demigod, a daughter of Hecate no less, who happened to just have a crazy dream about having a meeting with Aphrodite. And, I swear on the river Styx, if she did that on purpose…

Never mind, I'm getting off topic. You see, Children of Hecate and the color pink don't mix. I really hope that that dream wasn't a vision of what might happen, seeing as that is what my dreams usually are.

"Jade, I have breakfast ready. Considering that I just heard your alarm turn off, I would say that you have about twenty minutes to get ready, eat, and get to the subway if you don't want to be late for your first day at your new school," My father yelled up the stairs.

I sighed, throwing on a clean pair of clothes. I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, also running a brush through my long, black hair. I sighed, not wanting to go to a new school that I was probably going to damage in some way. I got kicked out of my old school two weeks ago because of something that happened on my trip school trip to Mount Rushmore. Let's just say that Abraham Lincoln did not have bald spots before I went there.

I still feel a little guilty, but relived at the same time that I dragged my only mortal friend, Katrina, into this mess with me. I don't usually make friends with mortals; frankly, I don't even know she wanted to be my friend in the first place. She seemed a little to perky for me when I first met her, but as she forced her way into my life, I realized she wasn't that bad, even though we were polar opposites. Tall, short. Red hair, black hair. Green eyes- wait, we both have green eyes...

Anyway, I was really surprised when Katrina sat down across from me my first day at my old school. I looked up and immediately labeled her as a popular kid who had come to make fun of me. "Go away," I had growled, moving to look back at my food.

"Why should I?" she had said, green eyes sparkling, "This is America."

"Yes, but this also happens to be my lunch table," I replied coolly, blowing a strand of black hair out of my eyes in annoyance.

"I don't see you name anywhere," She shot back, folding her arms.

Shooting her a nasty look, I had pulled out my pen and wrote my name on the table. "Well, now you do," I said rather smugly. Katrina then reached down and grabbed her bag and I thought she was getting up. I had looked back down at my food and thought that I had gotten the best of another puny mortal when she cleared her throat.

"Well, I guess it is my lunch table now, too," She had said, smugly playing with the sharpie she had used to write her name on the table with. I regarded her with a little more respect, seeing as any normal mortal would have high-tailed it out of there right after I had said go away.

"Fine, you can eat with me," I had muttered, going back to my own food.

We had been friends ever since. Katrina had always been stronger than most mortals, and not just physically. She also has a strange love of books and art, and is never seen without a book and a bag full of art supplies. Seriously… 68 different colored pencils, paint, clay… all of it just casually thrown in her bag. Not to mention her collection of scars. I had wondered why she always changed in the bathroom stall during P. E. and decided to find out. Don't call it stalking, it wasn't. Seriously.

Anyways… where was I? Oh right, scars. Well I was in the bathroom-

I looked over at the clock, jumping in alarm when I saw I had only five minutes to catch the subway.

I dashed downstairs, grabbing my book bag as I high-tailed it out of there. Katrina is going to kill me if I get there late again.