Clara Johnson, Demi-goddess

Disclaimer: I do not own PJO

Chapter One: The Beginning

I didn't sit down for Christmas and write, 'Dear Santa, I have been a very good girl this year and I would love to be a demigod'. I never wanted to be one.

If you happen to be reading this story because you think it's in any way possible you might be a half-blood my advice is to close this book right now. I tell you now just to believe the lies your parents told you when you were born and stay in your normal life. Knowing will just make your life harder and more importantly, a tasty snack for monsters.

If you think this is a bit of fiction you picked up, then I suppose you can keep reading. I envy you for being able to believe that nothing in this journal ever happened, lucky you.

Now I'll be quiet and let you read. But be warned, if any of this reminds you of your life, if any of this makes something inside of you churn, close it and throw it away. Being a real half-blood can get you killed in a whole lot of nasty and gruesome ways.

Don't say I never warned you…

Finally! School was over and summer break had started. I was hanging out at the old music store down the street looking for the new C.D by Samantha York; this new singer a girl at school had told me about had told me about.

Before I get any farther let me introduce myself. My name is Clara Johnson, but most people call me Millie. Why do they do that you ask? Well, it a long story and I don't have the time to tell you, maybe some other time. I'm eleven years old and I'm diagnosed with ADHD and Dyslexia.

Across the road there was the local park. Sitting on the ridge where the park and the side walk met was a huge shaggy dog the size of a small van. Everyone seemed to not notice it even though they were walking right past it. The huge beast slowly tuned its head toward me, its yellow eyes glaring into my gray eyes. People say that my eyes look like storm clouds during a thunderstorm. I had just found the C.D and was just about to buy it, but I sighed and put it down. I raced out of the shop and across the street.

The beast snarled at me and lunged at me. Thanks to my quick reflexes I jumped out of the way. The beast snarled at me and quickly turned around. I grabbed the small bronze dagger out of my bag and held it at ready. My dad had given me it at my tenth birthday. "Always keep it with you," he had said. I had taken to slipping it in the small pocket in my combat boots or putting it in my bag.

The beast was about to pounce on me again when an arrow whirled past me hitting the beast on the nose. It howled in pain and burst into yellow confetti that disappeared once it touched the ground. Soon, all that was left was the smell of sulfur.

When I turned around to see who had shot that arrow I found a boy with sandy blond hair and chocolate brown eyes. He was leaning casually on a tree. I knew he had shot the arrow since he had a bow and a quiver full of arrows. "You sure were lucky that I was here," he said," That was hellhound." What's a hellhound? I searched my brain for anything about hellhounds. I did this often if I was trying to remember something. My search came up clear.

"Who are you?" I asked. All he did was laugh. "It doesn't matter right now." Then he gave me a big grin. I'll see you at camp." Then he disappeared into the trees and that was the last of him. What camp? I had been to a few camps, but I didn't remember him. I wasn't signed up for any camp this year.

I looked at my watch. It was getting late. As I walked down the street I tried to remember the boy. All I could think of was his chocolate brown eyes.

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