This idea has literally been done to death, but, I wanted to try it out for myself .

So, now presenting, a modern Cinderella story!

DISCLAIMER: Do I really need to explain that I'm not old, have grey hair, and am not even a boy?

Annabeth's POV

They were fighting. Again.

They do this every night when they think I'm asleep. But I never am. I try, but the walls in our apartment are too thin. I can understand every piercing word they say to each other. Well, except for a few that I'm too young to comprehend. But not so young that I don't know that t hey are not to be repeated.

"It's not even ruined! It's just a little stain; it'll wash out instantly!" screamed my dad.

That's what it's usually about. Something so small that a normal couple would just overlook. It wasn't until later that I realized that is wasn't about being normal. It was about being happy.

I had somewhat gotten used to the fighting (not liking it, I will never like the fact that they're always at each others throats). But just when I thought they were done for the night, Mom said something in such a soft voice that I thought I almost didn't hear her.

"I can't do this anymore. I think it's time we had a divorce."

I may only be 5, but I'm not stupid. I m ay not know what a 'divorce' is, but I k now it's something bad. The second I heard that, I jumped out of the bed and ran out of my bedroom.

"Mommy," my voice was shrill, and tears were running down my cheeks. "Daddy, what's a divorce?"

They looked at me in horror. It wasn't until later that I realized that they didn't know I was awake.

"Annabeth..." Mom started. I didn't want to hear it, though. I didn't want to kn ow what a divorce was. But I had a really bad feeling about it.

The next morning I found out that my suspicions were correct: my mom, and all of her things, were gone.

11 years later...

Beep Beep Beep

I swing my arm and knock over the alarm clock. I swear, there is nothing more annoying in the world than that stupid thing.

"Annabeth!" Except for that.

Grumbling, I get out of bed. Of course, I think bitterly. I need to make my lovely step-family breakfast because my enchanting step-mother won't get off her lazy ass and make it herself.

I still can't believe they managed to fool me for five years.

A year after my parents divorce, my dad married Helen, my oh-so lovely step-mother. With her, she brought my step-brothers, Bobby and Mathew.

Me and my step-family never got along very well. But, when my dad died in a car accident when I was thirteen, they showed their true colors. Well, Helen did. She started openly expressing how much she detested me. Every time I tried to defend myself, she'd hit me. Then give me an abnormal amount of chores. Eventually I learned not to talk back to her, but the chores didn't stop.

Now, I'm practically their maid. Why couldn't my dad have realized that he married the person who is so evil she was kicked out of the depths off hell?

"Excuse me?" Shit.

I turn around, slowly, to see her standing behind me. And she looks pissed. Guess I insulted her out-loud.

"What did you say about me?" She takes a step toward me, her red stilettos clacking against the kitchen floor.

That's the thing about her. She's on this radio show called 'Line, Please!' (She came up with the name. It doesn't even have anything to do with the actual show.) She's practically drowning in money. She could certainly afford to hire a maid, heck, she could afford a freaking cleaning staff! But, she chose to use me instead. I don't even know why. Seems pretty stupid to me to use you seventeen year-old step-daughter when you could have an experienced person to do the job.

Except, that maid wouldn't be constantly told she was a failure. And would be paid.

"Nothing, mother," I sound pretty innocent, but I had to literally chock out the 'm' word. "I was just singing a song I heard at school."

She scoffed. (AN: Will somebody tell me what that means? I honestly don't know, but I used it because it seemed to fit in.) "School. You don't know how privileged you are to even be let out of this house. And you especially blessed to have me allow you to have a friend."

I hate it when she does that. She tries to make me think that I have the best life that the Gods have to offer me.

And she seems bent on reminding me about how unpopular I am.

"Yes, mother."

She seems remotely satisfied. "Now, finish the breakfast and get out."' She turns on her heal and exits. I'm just breathing a sigh of relief when she yells, "And don't even think about eating the food I worked my ass off to buy!"

Typical.

"HOLY SHIT YOU CAN NOT BE SERIOUS!"

That's how it's been since I got here. 30 minutes ago.

Apparently, there's this new guy who's one of the most famous singers in the nation. And, according to Rachel Elizabeth Dare, "The sexiest guy to walk the planet!"

The guy's not even here yet and I'm already sick of him.

Right now I'm at my locker with my only/best friend, Thalia, who's locker is right next to mine. "Do you know who everybody's talking about?" She sounds about as annoyed as I am.

"No, but-

SLAM!

Something knocks me to the ground, forcing all of the wind out of my lungs. For minute I lay there, stunned. When I can breathe normally again. I register a dull ache in the back of my head. Then I notice something else.

I'm under someone.

Pissed, I put my hands on their chest, about to push them off. Before I do, though, I make the mistake of looking at their face.

Those eyes. Those sea-green eyes staring down at me.

And I can't breathe again.

That's all for this chapter!

I hope you guys liked it and, go easy on me. This is my second story and I'm kind of nervous about this one.

Please review and you'll get a Virtual Cookie (::)!

Write anything: ask questions, leave comments, give constructive critisizm... JUST SAY SOMETHING!

I'll see you next chapter!

-LongLive