"I like to dance." They were the first words Annabeth Chase ever said to Percy Jackson.

They also happened to be the four words that, inevitably, made Percy Jackson fall in love.

Chapter 1 (Annabeth):

Annabeth rushed out of the locker room, now immune to the smell of sweat and muddy soccer cleats. It had been a rough practice- more than half of her teammates had needed a stop in the physical trainer's office, and at least 3 out of 4 of those teammates came out with ice taped to their calves, hamstrings, quads, etc. Annabeth, however, had been training for this sport and its obstacles since she was five. Twelve years later, and she was in tip top shape. All because of her determination.

Well. Not just her determination, per say. It was a teeny-tiny bit more than just determination. There was only one word to explain that teeny-tiny bit, really. That's just how small it was. And what was that word, you may ask? To answer, Annabeth would tell you in a hushed voice:

Dance.

Actually, Annabeth wouldn't tell you. Don't take it personally, though. Annabeth wouldn't tell anyone. She was a little shy and protective about this secret of hers. It happened to be the one thing Annabeth Chase called her own. You see, the majority of Annabeth Chase's life happened to be dictated by everyone except Annabeth Chase. Her mother handled her academics, her father directed her college options, and her personal trainer handled her sports. It was for her own good, they all said. It was a little hard to believe sometimes, though. How could agreeing and listening to everyone else all the time be for her own good? Eventually, Annabeth got so frustrated with not knowing the answer to this one question in her life that she decided to take matters into her own hands. And that was when Annabeth Chase found music.

This new world of emotion, of power and beauty, captivated Annabeth. She had been twelve years old at the time, and in complete awe of the rhythmic lullabies and soulful sounds. However, music never quite satiated the thirst Annabeth had for proving herself. She could never completely express herself through music, although she wasn't all too bad at the singing lessons her parents easily bought her.

One day, the frustration was too much. She had been trying to pour herself into art, which clearly wasn't working, seeing as her classy bowl of fruit had turned into an abstract mess of anger- reds, blacks, fiery oranges- they were all spread across the page in a beautiful, yet pointless, design. She rolled her eyes and set aside the paper, stashing it in her drawer for a time when its beauty might actually be appreciated. Exhausted with the pressure of finding something to relieve pressure, she flopped down in front of the TV. She had nothing better to do, she supposed. It was summer break, all her friends were somewhere nice with their families, and she had already practiced soccer and studied for the day. Her parents were at work, as usual, and the caretakers were busy doing their own tedious chores. So, really, sue her for watching some TV. She began to surf channels, flicking through, settling on some for a few minutes, before realizing she was bored again. She rarely watched TV, which soon became apparent when she threw down the remote in frustration because nothing good was on.

Realizing she still had nothing better to do, Annabeth sighed and picked up the remote, beginning to surf yet again. Eventually, she decided to stick with a music channel that was showing some fine arts festival in some small town near her hometown in California. The announcer was speaking some nonsense about all the wonderful sponsors he probably didn't even know existed until he read his script, so Annabeth used the spare time to run to the kitchen and grab some oreos and chips (So it was summer. Give her a break.) She sat down, opening the water bottle she'd also picked up and watching lazily as singers came on and off. She nodded in appreciation to some of the better artists, and cringed in sympathy when less... experienced artists had to perform. Then suddenly, the annoying host was back to talk about some new group that had been trying to make itself known in that town and the neighboring ones, as well. Annabeth didn't quite catch what the group was going to perform because of the crinkle of her chips bag, but she leaned forward and watched in interest as she saw them take their places onstage and let the lights dim. They knelt on one knee with their backs to the audience and she wondered curiously if it was some kind of alternative band introducing a new style.

Then the music began.

And from that point onwards, everything was a blur. Annabeth watched in awe as their bodies moved in perfect harmony with the music she had grown up loving. Their arms and legs seemed to be a part of the music rather than their bodies. The dancers moved in perfect sync, performing amazing stunts that made Annabeth's jaw drop in shock. She allowed herself to get absorbed in the music, mesmerized by the way that the dancers rolled and moved. It was amazing, really. A whole different experience. Annabeth had never really been one to watch much TV. Books and documentaries were more of her style. She had never really tried parties or dances, either. The reputation they had was too clashing with Annabeth's way of life. Soccer was about as wild as she got. But as she watched the dancers move onscreen, Annabeth knew that she could get wilder.

This, Annabeth was quick to figure out, was no band.

This, Annabeth knew, was magic.

And this, Annabeth decided, was going to be her life.

What Annabeth didn't plan for, however, was all that being true (Well. Until Percy Jackson came along).