I should have known the world was going crazy when I managed to fast forward through my history lesson.

It was a Friday, the last day before winter break; I was dying to get out of class and my ADHD wasn't helping things. I sat at the back of my history class trying not to draw attention to myself whilst Mr. Nixon droned on about America's presidents and whatever it was they did for the country. I didn't particularly care much for American history since I was born in the UK, but I usually tried to focus. Today I just couldn't be bothered. Mr. Nixon's monotonous voice tuned in and out of focus, and people's conversations buzzed in the background as I fiddled absentmindedly with my necklace. This was why I sat at the back of the room. I was away from the trivial, childish gossip of Seventh Grade and the stupid people who spread it. Not to mention, being the British kid with the weird accent meant most of it was usually about me anyways. But I was used to it, and I knew how to act like it didn't bother me: pile on the sarcasm and joke around, then get into trouble and laugh it off. Easy.

I was ranting in my head again. Brilliant.

The lesson dragged on. All the while I was begging for the clock to move just a little bit faster, so I could get home to my dad before he left for work again, when the voices of my classmates began to sound muffled. It was as if everyone was talking at ten times the speed. I thought maybe it was just my ears so I ignored it, staring at my worksheet and trying to work around my Dyslexia, until the classroom began to blur around me.

That's when I began to worry.

My teacher's fuzzy image was collecting the sheets now and before I knew it the cleaners were coming in to tidy up. The classroom was emptied, and the sun started to dip below the skyline.

Stop! I thought, frantically. Stop stop, please!

I screwed my eyes shut, pleading that when I opened them again things would be back to normal. I waited for a few seconds before opening one eye slowly. No blurry images, and no muffled voices. The sun was sinking toward the rooftops at a normal pace. I sighed in relief and hastily pushed all my school stuff into my shoulder bag.

My seat and desk were untouched, as if they hadn't sped up either, like a bubble had separated anything around me from the time lapse. I strode towards the door only to find it was locked. The windows were shut too. I was stuck. Never before had my couldn't-care-less façade been stretched this far. I started to panic, none would be here over the holidays and if I couldn't get someone's attention I was trapped.

Straight after my sudden realization, a shape appeared outside the door. A shape I recognized as the new janitor. I say 'new', he started round about the same time I did, nine months ago. He was Caucasian with curly brown-hair, brown eyes and a goatee. He couldn't have been more than 5'12 in height and no older than nineteen. How he ever got the job I don't know. The staff called him Grover. I stepped back from the door in surprise as he unlocked it in a hurry and pulled it open.

"What are you doing in here?" He questioned.

"I could ask you the same question," I retorted, trying to sound more confident than I felt. And failing.

Grover gave me a quick glance. "Are you okay?"

I tried to look indifferent. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Listen, go back to your dad and tell him what happened," muttered Grover as he steered me towards the main doors.

"What, that I got locked in a classroom?"

"Exactly what happened." He gave me a knowing look and closed the door behind me.

I ran all the way home and didn't pause once. My trainer-clad-feet pounded through the busy Philadelphia streets until I reached my dad's apartment. It was a small place on the third floor of a big apartment block near the city center. Dad kept it tidy, but we never seemed to stay in one place for long. Back when I was little my dad and I moved to Washington D.C from Petersfield in the UK. I was only two years old so I didn't remember much about where we lived before other than it was near the countryside, and our house backed onto this huge woodland. But what I remember best is gazing out of my bedroom window at night and being able to see the stars so clearly for miles around. Since then we've moved four times in the last ten years. Dad never told me why, only that we needed a fresh start.

Dad's name is Philip Ashton and he's a Travelling Sales Rep for this big company, but back in Britain he was a guidance counselor at this local secondary school. That's where he met my mother. He never mentions her to me anymore, other than to tell me she was the best choice he ever made. Then he laughs softly to himself like he's enjoying some inside joke and he gets these little laughter lines around his eyes. He gets dimples too; something I inherited, regretfully, I tell you. People say I have his eyes too - clear blue and intelligent. His hair is nothing like mine though, it's short, straight and honey blonde whereas mine is long, black and wavy. I wouldn't say he's a tall man, and I just about come up to his shoulder. Figures. Now only does that give my peers the chance to mock me for my accent, genetics throws my height into the mix.

When I got home I fumbled in my bag for the key, but before I had a chance to find it my dad was at the door, a concerned contorted his features. He stepped aside and I ducked past him into the room. The door slammed shut and I braced myself for his anger. Sure enough I was soon bombarded with questions.

"Meg, where were you? I've been worried sick! Did you get into trouble, get detention?" When I didn't answer right away he paused for a moment. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion, until realization dawned on his face, and he let out a long sigh.

"What happened this time, hon?" His tone was gentle rather than accusing.

I took in a shaky breath.

"It was an accident. No-one got hurt or anything but I…I just…I …"

It all came out in a rush of hysterics. I told him about the lesson, the blurring, the time lapse, the underage janitor, and the way he looked as if to say I'd done something stupid and dangerous and the cops would be on my case in seconds.

For some reason, none of this seemed to surprise my dad. He just nodded and grimaced in all the relevant places until I'd finished talking. Then he slowly stood, ran his hand through his hair and turned to face me.

"Meghan, pack your things as quickly as possible. We have to leave tonight."

I sighed. Moving, again. "Where are we going?"

"New York City. Long Island to be precise."

"Why?"

Even before I asked I knew what the answer would be. It would be the reason dad had given when we first moved from Washington D.C to Quantico, what he mentioned when we moved from Sacramento to Philly.

"Because I have to keep you safe Meg."

Just what I'd expected.

"But this is the last time, I promise."

Okay, that part was new.

"Oh, and a friend of mine is coming with us. Your janitor, Grover Underwood."

"What! Why?" I stammered.

"Because he's your protector, and I can't go to the same place you're going."

"You aren't making any sense. What does all this have to do with me going mad?" I asked.

"I can't explain right now honey, but Grover can when we get to New York," he called from the door.

As he headed out to get the car I started packing in a daze. I still had no idea what was going on and now, all of a sudden, my school janitor was road tripping to New York with us. But the more I thought about it the more I realized that weird stuff had happened to me before. Like the time I was five years old and colouring in a picture at school, and I needed the red crayon and someone else was using it. I was about to cry and the red was suddenly in my hand, and the person using it before was left holding the green. Then there was the incident in the kitchen last year when I could have sworn I burnt the cookies that were in the oven, but when I looked back they were fine. As I finished packing I looked around my room one last time, and I got the feeling that after everything that had just happened, my life was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

The 150-mile journey to New York took the best part of four hours. Before we left I'd changed into my green vest top, and slung a black jumper top over it. The neck hole was too large so it fell completely off on shoulder – that's what I got from buying second hand, I guess. Lastly, I grabbed my high top trainers. I would not be seen without the. We travelled east along interstate 80 until Dad pulled up outside a hotel and gestured out the window towards a familiar looking Grover, waiting nervously for me to arrive.

"Now, stick with Grover and listen to him Ok? He knows what he's doing," he called as I unloaded my bags from the boot, or trunk, or whatever.

"Mm hmm." I mumbled. Like I'd ever listen to a janitor.

Grover came hurrying over to help so I backed off and opened the door to talk to my dad again.

"I still don't get what a summer camp has to do with all this," I muttered. "Least of all in autumn."

The information I had since been given about a mysterious camp for kids was still a bit vague for my liking, but at least I knew what to expect now, right?

"Love you, Megs. Be careful ok?"

"Whatever dad, I'll be fine." I tried to sound cheerful, but it wasn't quite working.

My dad nodded and put the car into gear. "Bye sweetheart."

"Bye," I called as he pulled away.

There was a brief silence before I turned to Grover and smiled. "So," I said as I strode over, trying to relive the tension; I didn't like uncomfortable silences.

"What do we do now, take the Subway?"

"No!" he bleated. Yes, bleated!

I frowned. "Why not? It's not like there're any poisonous monsters down there. Unless you count the last tube home on a Friday night."

I thought it was funny. Grover didn't look so convinced.

"You'd be surprised," he muttered. "Come on, we'll take a Cab."

He hailed a taxi and we climbed in the back, and while Grover was busy giving some pretty specific directions to the driver I sighed and looked out the window. The cities we'd stayed in were always so big and busy you couldn't even see the stars most nights. The Cab pulled away and already Grover was muttering under his breath. He was too quiet to hear, but that only made me more interested in what he was saying. Even as I thought it, I could feel his voice becoming clearer, but it would fade in and out like bad reception on a radio. I was able to catch a little of what he was saying though, and all it did was confuse me further.

"…three in one day…just like she said…depending on their parents…such different personalities…Chiron will know…"

I sucked in a breath. Grover looked over at me and I continued to stare casually out of the window, watching the city traffic disperse as pine trees replaced the skyscrapers. I began to fiddle with my necklace, a simple black key on a delicate silver chain. What Grover was talking about I had no idea. All I could gather was that three kids had come to this camp in one week, some lady had said it would happen, who our parents were might determine how well we got on, and that some guy called Chiron seemed to have all the answers. If I wasn't confused before, now I was downright stumped. But something else was nagging at the back of my mind.

Chiron.

I'd heard that name before.

"Alrightie folks, this is your, err, stop."

The driver looked confused, and so was I. It was dark now, and we were in the middle of nowhere, with dense forest on each side. But Grover seemed satisfied and paid the driver as we both climbed out. After retrieving my bags, Grover suddenly seemed on edge again. He kept glancing around nervously over his shoulder, as if he expected something to leap out and bite us at any minute.

"Um, thanks," I murmured to the driver.

"No problem darlin'," he called as he started the engine and pulled away down the road, kicking up a small trail of dust as he left.

Grover was unusually quiet. No muttering or nervous glances. In fact he seemed almost pleasantly surprised. "Unusual. No monsters. Nothing trying to eat us."

I doubt I was meant to hear that, but my patience was wearing thin. I dropped my bag and sat on top of it, folded my arms and sighed. "Right, that's it. Who are you? How do you know my dad? Why did you drag me one hundred and fifty miles to Long Island? And what do you mean by monsters?"

Grover looked panicked again.

"You want the truth?" He asked.

"Definitely"

"Well, ok. Just don't freak out, or run, or scream, or anything like that."

Now, normally when someone says not to freak out, you end up freaking out, so yeah, I was worried.

"Okay," I said, dragging out the word a little. "From the beginning."

Then I knew I was totally done for. I'd driven across state lines with a psychopath who thought he was a satyr from Greek mythology and that I was the daughter of a Greek goddess. He actually believed that he had been assigned to protect me from the disguised monsters hidden all over the country that were out to kill me, and that we were going to a place called Camp Half-Blood that was built to train other 'Demigods' like me to fend for ourselves in the real world. His explanation as to why humans never saw anything was a magic Mist that messed with their minds. We were alone. In the middle of nowhere. He was nuts. But, weirdly enough, I believed him.

It explained everything, even the name Chiron; the centaur from Greek legend who trained heroes like Achilles and Hercules. Only problem was that now I had to accept that the monsters from Greek myths were real as well, and that several of them would no doubt try to kill me.

Grover raised an eyebrow at me. "You're taking this well."

"Yeah, well…I mean…no big deal right?"

Truth is I was freaking out on the inside, but being an expert at looking disinterested, I smiled casually. That's when I heard it. It was a low, rumbling growl that sent shivers up my spine. A howl echoed through the trees and Grover grabbed my arm and pulled me into the forest.

"Knew I spoke too soon," he called "Come on!"

We seemed to be headed up a steep hill towards a huge pine tree that had a mass of cables wrapped around the trunk. I didn't pay much attention, but I could have sworn they were moving. I quickly glanced over my shoulder to see what it was we were running from and quickly wished I hadn't. A huge coal black hound with burning red eyes and razor sharp claws the size of carving knives was perusing us. Its mouth was pulled back in a snarl revealing several rows of grizzly yellow teeth. Grover, who had since kicked off his shoes and jeans, was now sporting a very strong, very hairy pair of legs. He was powering on at a speed I could barely keep up with. Ok, so he really is a satyr. Well, it's all right for him but some of us don't have goat legs. I thought. We were nearly at the top of the hill by now, but my legs were aching badly.

"Get past the pine tree and we're safe. That's the boundary line," yelled Grover as we reached the peak of the hill.

I put on a burst of speed and finally managed to catch up to him when another piercing howl rang through the night. The vicious hound was only meters away. As we reached the pine Grover flung himself forward and I did the same, fully expecting to feel a very painful sensation as I was munched on by an oversized, rabid black Labrador. Instead all I heard was a loud thunk!

I peeled my face off the grass and propped myself up on my hands, turning to see the slightly disorientated beast prowling up and down by the pine tree. It seemed to give me an angry I-won't-forget-this look before slipping into the shadows and disappearing. Now that I wasn't running for my life I could clearly see the tree, and the cables were moving. Only they weren't cables at all. It was a dragon, a huge scaly fire-breathing dragon. I tried to crawl backwards, but I winced in pain and glanced down at my left leg, which was now sporting a deep gash down one side. My head started spinning. I wasn't brilliant with blood.

"What just happened?" I mused as Grover came over to me.

"We were chased by a hellhound," he breathed.

"As in the dog from the underworld?"

"The very same."

"And what's that?" I gestured to the dragon curled around the tree, snoozing gently.

"Oh, that's Peleus. Don't worry; he's really very friendly once you get to know him."

"What's he doing here?"

Grover grinned. "Guarding the Golden Fleece."

My mouth fell open. "The actual Golden Fleece? Really?" I grinned even wider than Grover. "That is so cool!"