I've been thinking of this ever since The Trials of Apollo came out. Figured Psyche was a good name, because, if you remember, in Percy Jackson's Greek Heroes, Psyche is listed second, and with a happy ending. I'll try to balance this with my other fan fictions, although I've been having problems with that recently . . . but you don't want to hear about that. This fan fiction's going to be mostly from Psyche's point of view, and I'll let you know if I change that. This is my first regular fan fiction. My other ones have all been crossovers. Please review!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Percy Jackson books (although gods I wish I did).
I've always wondered about my older brother.
My name is Psyche Blofis. Pronounced sy-key. Before you ask about the name, let me explain. My mother has a tradition of naming kids after heroes in Greek mythology who had a happy ending. Psyche did, and so that was my name. My older brother, Percy's, real name is Perseus, and she says that he's doing just fine, so why shouldn't I have a name like that? I'll tell you why.
In school, I was always teased for my name. Teachers mispronounced it, it sounded weird, and (or at least I think), they were jealous of my unique name. That's why I go by Cheya. Pronounced, key-YA. Looks weird, but it's better than Psyche.
Since I was about 6, my brother has been married to a girl named Annabeth. She's been like an older sister to me throughout my life, one I can get advice from, talk about girls stuff with, without the fighting. Her and Percy come over to our apartment every Saturday night for dinner. Nowadays, they bring their daughter, my niece, Silena. She's six years younger than me, but thinks I'm her best friend.
I'm twelve now, about the age (or so I'm told) Percy went on his first trip with friends, a cross-country one from the sound of it. Naturally, I've demanded fairness. I wanted to go on a trip, too. Or at least, I've started to ask. I never get very far, 'cause my mom starts to cry every time I ask (which is, like, the worst feeling in the world).
My life, for the most part, seemed pretty normal. Nothing other than middle school to worry about, right? Yeah, let's just say soon that would be the least of my problems. But you came here for the story, and I'm going to tell it. Let's see, it all started in mid-May, end of sixth grade . . .