Well, chapter 2 is here! I just want to say thank you to everyone who has supported the first chapter - those who have followed, reviewed and added the story to their favourites :D It's a big influence on how fast I update. As promised, however, I'm delivering to you this chapter tonight (I was going to publish it earlier but I've been at a friend's house, so...)

Before we go on, I just want to point out a few things.

One: the following chapter does contain swearing and I think some mild sexual references, but be wary all the same.

Two: this second paragraph does sorta insult foster parents/adoptive parents. I personally believe foster/adoptive parents are brilliant people - my friend is adopted, and her parents are amazing - but I wanted to bring on Percy's opinion, get what I mean? I'm certain that there are no children homes out there that are like this place and I just wanted to make that clear. I'll also mention it at the bottom, to avoid anyone getting offended.

Three: The cover photo, though not very good quality, was drawn and is owned by me. I'm trying to find out a way to scan it into my computer a bit better than just taking a picture of it with my phone. Just throwing that out there.

Well, that's all for now. Hope you guys enjoy, and have a nice day :)

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN PERCY JACKSON

Percy's POV

I've been in this children's home for just over nine months now. I can easily say that it's been the weirdest nine months of my life. Not only is my mom dead, killed by her own hand, but I've not had to do anything illegal or move home like I would with my mom. Apparently, this home is permanent until someone decides to adopt me. Yeah, as if that'll ever happen.

Foster and adoptive parents always look for the perfect children. The good-looking, innocent, smiley kids. The ones without mental problems like ADHD and Dyslexia and that don't ask questions and don't constantly fidget. (1) That's basically a definition of me. I'm the opposite of a perfect child. No one's ever going to adopt me.

I went through all the hassle of social workers and therapy late last year when my mom was found hanging from her prison cell. She was thrown in there for possessing stuff like drugs and illegal things with one of her many boyfriends. The social workers were worried because I didn't seem to be effected by her death. Truthfully, I wasn't as sad as I should have been. My mom was a druggie, prostitute (she tried to hide it from me but it was so obvious), an alcoholic...I know she cared about me, and I cared about her. But she was wasting away. The reason I wasn't sad when she died was because I knew that she could finally be at rest, away from all the trouble of life.

Anyway, the social workers are gone. That's why I'm surprised when Miss Martha (the head of the children home) calls me into the 'family room' and there's a pretty woman who's dressed in a smart blouse and skirt sat at the table.

"Hello, Percy," the woman smiles, standing up and shaking my hand as Miss Martha backs out of the room. "My name's Hestia Olympia,"

"Hi," I reply shortly. "Nice to meet you,"

Hestia takes a seat back at the table and I sit opposite her, a little nervous. What's going on? Does the children's home not want me anymore? Is she here about the fight I had with Cameron Sweeney, because in my defence the jerk deserved worse than what he got...

"So, Percy," Hestia says, opening a file and scanning a couple of notes. I try to read them but my Dyslexia has a bitch fit when I see the small cursive handwriting they're written in. "How are you?"

"Good," I shrug. "This place is okay. Why are you here?"

Hestia stares at me, a small smile tugging at her lips, as though I remind her of something nice. "I'm here because of your mother's will," she replies.

I blink. "Her will?" I repeat. "My mom had a will?"

"Oh, yes. There wasn't much of it, however. She requested that any money in her account be given to you on your sixteenth birthday, and she also left a letter for someone," Hestia says.

"Who?" I ask.

"One of your mother's past boyfriends,"

"Which one? There were a few,"

"Her high-school sweetheart," Hestia says. "She was in a relationship with him for their last two years of high-school and after graduation they were planning on marrying each other. Only her boyfriend's father forced them to split up and sent him off to college, so they never met again,"

I frown. Mom mentioned a few years ago that she became pregnant with me in high school. So if she was dating this guy in her last two years...

"What's his name?" I question curiously.

"Poseidon Olympia,"

"Olympia?" I repeat. "Is there...a relation between you two?"

Hestia smiles. "As a matter of fact, there is. Poseidon is my little brother,"

I stare at her for a few seconds. "Okay...what does he have to do with me?" I ask. "Does mom want some of her money to go to him?"

"No, Percy. Your mother left Poseidon a letter which told him that you were his son," says Hestia.

I stare at her again, this time for longer, my eyes narrowed as I try to detect the lie in her voice. "...What?" I say dumbly, not yet taking in the fact.

"I don't have the letter with me, however I did read it," Hestia says. "Your mother wrote about how she'd never felt happier in her life than when she was with Poseidon. When he was forced to move away she found out she was pregnant, however she was too scared to ever tell him,"

"My dad," I say slowly, the words feeling foreign. "Your little brother...does that mean you're, like, my aunt?"

"Yes, I believe so,"

"And you're not really a social worker?"

"No, I am. My boss found the letter in Sally's will and specifically gave the case to me as it involves my family,"

I nod slowly, staring at the scrubbed wooden table. Father. I have a father. And an aunt. Does that mean I've got more family?

It sinks in.

Wait...

I have a father. He's not dead like I would sometimes assume when things went sour and I would wish for someone to help me. I'm not an orphan.

"What does this mean?" I ask, trying to mask the emotions building up inside of me. Excitement. Worry. Shock. Pain. Giddiness. Fear...

"Your mother asked just one thing of your father," Hestia says. "She wanted you two to meet. She didn't ask for him to take you in, but just to make sure that you know you're never alone. She loved you a lot, Percy. She only wanted what was best for you. That's why she...well, maybe one day you can read the lesson,"

I try not to feel angry. I have a right to read what my mother said! That's not fair! I see the look on Hestia's face, which is apologetic, and quickly calm down.

"Meet?" I repeat.

"Poseidon has agreed," Hestia tells me. "I spoke to him yesterday when I returned from Australia on a business trip. He says he isn't sure about how he feels about having a child, but he'd be willing to meet with you. As long as you want to,"

"Yes," I reply, shocking even myself with my lack of hesitation.

Wait, are you sure? A voice in my head asks. Your dad. You could meet your real dad. And he might be mean. Of course he won't be mean, look at Hestia! You never know...

"Are you sure, Percy?" Hestia asks.

I nod. "Yeah. I mean, it's what my mom wanted. She told me about him sometimes, but she never gave a name. It made her sad to think about him though she would always tell me how alike I am to him. Apparently we have the same eyes,"

Hestia smiles fondly. "Oh, you do. And you have his hair. Black hair runs in the family," she tugs a curl of hair falling out of her loose but sophisticated bun. "Though I'm not sure where you both got the messiness from,"

I manage a small smile, unable to stop myself from running a hand through my ruffled, windswept hair. Hestia is nice. Hopefully that runs in the family as well. "Anyway, when would be a good time for the pair of you to meet?"

"I'm not in school until September," I shrug. "I'm not busy at all until then,"

"Alright, then how does Saturday sound?"

I just nod.

Hestia writes something down, fills in some paperwork, and asks me to sign one or two things. Apparently it was proof that I've consented to this meeting. As she leaves, Hestia gives Miss Martha her phone number in case something happens that could postpone the meeting. She gives me a final smile, and leaves.

I go to bed that evening with the rather good feeling in my gut. It takes a second for that good feeling to suddenly feel very terrible.

What if my dad doesn't like me? What if he finds out I have Dyslexia and ADHD and abandons me on the sidewalk or something? Or maybe he'll get me to smuggle something through a police blockade like Hugh and some of mom's other boyfriends did and then tell me off for not being relaxed enough. I sigh, rubbing my eyes. Some people say I act older than I am. I get stressed out easier than any child should – though I hate to admit that I am a child.

"We're only meeting," I mutter under my breath. "It's not like I'm going to go and live with him, for heaven's sake. I hardly know what he looks like..."

I've never been good with trust. I didn't speak to anyone at the children's home for weeks when I was first shipped here. I'll admit that I feel more relaxed than usual around Hestia, despite her being a stranger. I don't know why, either. Part of her felt...familiar? No, that just sounds stupid. Hestia is simply nicer than the other social workers, that's all.

I throw the sheets off my legs and climb out of bed. My bedroom here at the children's home is in the loft, because it's so crowded anywhere else there's no room anywhere else. I share with two other boys – Bart and Ralf.

"You'll get caught," Bart mutters sleepily as I open the skylight. He rolls over and half-opens an eye. "You did last time,"

"I was distracted last time," I retort, hauling myself through the skylight, the cold night air causing goosebumps to appear on my skin. "I was clumsy and slipped – that's why Miss Martha caught me,"

"Mm-hmm," Bart mutters. "Whatever..." and he falls back to sleep.

Once I'm on the roof, I close the skylight so the other boys won't get cold and walk carefully along the slabs until I'm sat on the top of the slant, facing the moon. It's full tonight. Usually, I'm not the sit-still kind of guy (because of my ADHD) but looking at the moon somehow calms me. It kind of slows down my brain; lets me calm down enough to be able to sleep. Hopefully it will clear all my worrisome thoughts about my father.

My father. I know, I keep saying it. It seems so surreal. I wonder how he reacted to finding out he had a son. He was probably more shocked than anything, like me. Hell, I'm still in shock. It's sinking in slower than a damn snail...

I'm not sure how long I was sat on the roof, but I know it was long enough for the black sky to begin turning orange by the time I moved. I'm tired, but still restless. Part of me thinks about why I like staring at the moon so much. My mom was a heavy sleeper – she'd sleep at every chance she could get. But when she wasn't asleep, she would look at the moon too. I must get part of it from her. I don't like sleeping anyway. I have nightmares, and usually wake up feeling worse.

Being human is stupid. You have so many needs. I heard in school that sharks don't sleep. Being a shark would be cool. Like Jaws...

Stupid ADHD. See the places my mind wanders too?

I clamber back into the loft and check the time. 5:39. Geez, I was been sat on the roof for almost six hours thinking about sharks. Sharks. No wonder my ass hurts and I feel like I've lost a bunch of IQ points. I slide back into bed and close my eyes, waiting for sleep to come...waiting...waiting...

I sigh and open my eyes. 6:07. Alright, looks like another all-nighter for me.

Giving up, I get out of bed again. The younger kids will probably be waking up soon and they'll need someone to entertain them. I often say that it's sad that I'm better at making friends with children under the age of four than I am making friends with children my own age. But younger children are so much nicer. They don't judge you. They're cute and innocent and have no idea what the world around them is really like. Plus, I missed out on a lot of my childhood. Interacting with young children makes me sometimes feel like I'm getting a taste of what I could have had.

Sure enough, peeking into the toddler's room, Gracie's climbing out of her bed. Her big brown eyes land on me. "Percyyy!" she exclaims loudly, grinning to show off her missing front teeth.

I smile fondly, hurrying into the room and shushing her. "Careful, Gracie, the others are asleep," I whisper, pointing to the other children. Gracie blushes and giggles, nodding eagerly. Despite her being seven years younger than me, Gracie's like my best friend. She's so cute and sweet. She wants to be a doctor when she's older and always makes me lie down and pretend to be ill for her.

"Can I have some frosties?" Gracie asks, voice deadly quiet. I nod, hauling her on to my back and go downstairs, heading to the kitchen to make us both some breakfast. As I pour the cereal, a thought occurs in my mind, and it finally sinks in. I'm meeting my father on Saturday.

1) I've made this point on the the A/N at the top of the page, but I just want to say that everything about children's home and stuff is made up. Foster and adoptive parents are amazing people for what they do and I hope I don't offend anyone - everything written was purely made up to go with the story and was Percy's opinion...just to make it clear, y'know?

If you guys enjoyed, I hope you'll leave another review - constructive criticism is welcome however no flames :( I'm not sure when I'll next update - Saturday, Sunday maybe. It all depends on the response I get. If you don't want to miss the next chapter, go ahead and follow. I'll see you all next time and thanks again to all the awesome people who followed/favourited/reviewed the first chapter :D