Olympus: The Immortal Child
Being how this is a story, I'd like to say none of this ever happened, but then I'd be lying. Not even a white lie, but more like a full-fledged huge lie.
Ever heard of Camp Half-Blood? Of course you have, it's in the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. But even though the books are labeled fiction in your local library doesn't mean it didn't happen. Actually it did, and at that time, I was unclaimed. Thanks to Percy, I've got my own cabin.
Okay, I'm getting way to ahead of myself.
Unfortunately, I can't write much now. I'm writing under the full moonlight of Selene. Hopefully she isn't as much as a tattletale as her bro, Helios (I mean, she would have more important things to do than tell on half-bloods staying up past curfew). Hopefully the Harpies still can't smell well after that little prank I pulled with my friend Connor Stoll. Hopefully Argus hasn't spotted me yet.
OMGs, he just did.
Okay, out of sight. Well, the reason why I'm writing this little journal (not diary. I hate the term diary. It makes me sound like some stuck-up, posh girl in the eighteenth century wearing a corset!) is not to have worldwide fame, (I'd be in a LOT of trouble.) but because I've never been able to tell my story about how I felt about the Titan war, the gods, the monsters, and kids- not normal, but like freaky powerful- and the mortal world. And my dad wants me to stand up to my dyslexia and write and read normally no matter how bad a headache I get.
And yeah, I just said gods.
Like Zeus, Hera, Hades, and the lot. Long story short, they have offspring with other gods and goddesses, or mortals. This would be a demigod- half god, half mortal, fully dangerous. And I'm one of them.
Hold up! I'm supposed to be telling about my story.
I was born in the average Boston home. In winter. Boston winters are awful. My dad took me to this place after I was born and there, I was christened Wendy Lily Young. When I was older, I found out that my name came from the movie Peter Pan: Wendy Darling and Tiger Lily. It's my favorite story of all time, and now it has an even greater connection to me.
I lived with my dad, like I said before. The weird things I've found out about my dad was that he used to be a hard worker until he lost his job, and he always used to talk to my mom as if she was there. I have to say, as much as it freaked me out, I wish I could talk to her too.
One incident happened when I was eight. I had just come home from school and had placed my book bag neatly on the chair. I walked to the refrigerator and applied a pink Post-it note on it, trying not to cover all the other multi colored Post-it notes. You'd think a dad wouldn't be so forgetful with a little kid under his wing.
He began to start cooking another vegan meal. I knew veggies were good for you, but I needed fast food. I needed the dripping oil, fatty, high in calories, delicious meal, like a kid's meal at McDonald's. My body craved for it. So I asked in my sweet innocent girl voice, (which always worked *ahem* works on strangers) and asked him, "Dad, what are we having for dinner?"
"Well, Wendily," he said my secret nickname. "Maybe, we should ask her." He winked at me and cocked his head to the side. I threw my hands up in the air and started pounding my head with them. My dad is crazy, I thought, talking to a woman who doesn't exist.
Finally, I saw him go back to cooking.
"What did she say?" I asked.
"She said vegetables help the complexion."
Do you see what I had to live with? A delusional dad, a Peter Pan name, a mom gone. I thought my life couldn't get any worse.
Oh, wait.
It did.
Have to go in now. Eos is breaking.