Hey, this is kind of an introduction - I know, it's chapter 2 - but there is a big story behind it that's all ready for you to read. So let me know if you want to read more! Chapter 3 will be coming soon
As you already know, I am Rebecca Jackson, also known as Becca. Sally likes to say I look like my father, but she's about the only one to say that. We have the same hair colour and the same kind of "troublemaker" face, but the resemblance stops there. I have long dark curly hair that I have renounced to try and make look good. I have blue eyes, because I guess that if you put green and grey together, the in-between is blue – kind of. That's what Poseidon said anyway. Not sure he is too good with colours.
My most prized possession is a very deadly weapon that can turn into a ring when I make it roll around my hand (and then my finger). Now, promise you won't laugh, everybody laughs when they see it for the first time (mind you, they stop laughing when I start using it). It's a "stick", one meter sixty long precisely, perfectly balanced, made of celestial bronze. I like to call it a staff; it has a better ring to it, even if it's not a staff. My brother call it a "walking stick", curse him. Well everybody calls it a walking stick when they see it, but then again, that's before I start using it.
If there is one thing we can say about me: I was fierce, like my parents. Put me on a battlefield and nothing can possibly stop me, even if I fight with a stick. Truth is, I had the fighting skills of my father and the strategy and analysis capacity of my mother. So in the end, maybe I didn't have a weapon that could cut a monster in half, but believe me, well used, a one meter sixty long stick of celestial bronze is deadly. It offers you the opportunity to fight several people at once, and it gives you the benefit of the distance, what kind of shields you against blades and everything else – even arrows if you're fast enough.
Ok, I do feel I have to defend myself there, because really, I wouldn't change weapons for the world. I tried a lot of them – swords, knifes, spears… Nothing is better than my staff. Even a spear is not as good, as you have the blade at the tip that unbalances the weapon.
Ok, I stop there. No more weapon talking. Sorry but it's one of my favourite subjects. Thing is, we have a little tradition with my parents. At around nine or ten, you would spend your first summer at camp, just like any other camper. Because up to that age you had the right to go to the arena and learn how to fight, but we'd be a lot more supervised. We're immortals, our powers started when we were born, not at around thirteen like the demigods. And well, powers are not always easy to control… And demigods can die. I know it sounds horrible…
I had two little brothers. The older one looked just like me, an exact replica; only he was the male version. And he had a kinder look in his eyes. And he was just the sweetest thing ever. I just knew one day all the girls would be looking at him and loving him. We had the best brother and sister relationship you could imagine.
His name was Tony. I mean, his real name was Theo (the Greek word for "god", so original!), but when I was five I thought that I had to find my brother a nickname. Don't ask me why, I just wanted to, and I tend to do things just for the sake of doing it. But of course there was no nickname existing for Theo. But one time I heard on the TV someone that was named "Anthony" being called "Tony", and I just thought it was cool. My brother was only one by this time. I just started calling him Tony, and as he was answering just to that, my parents stopped calling him Theo. Now he's just Tony, for everybody.
There are two things you need to know about Tony: he loved anybody unconditionally and he was terribly afraid of spiders. I guess that explains our relationship. The idea of a fun time to me was going in the woods, finding a poor little spider to torture – I loved torturing them so much – and then racing around the house behind Tony, holding the spider in my hands. Then I would kill it and my brother would simply run into my arms and cry until he had no tears left, what could take a very long time. I guess it was kind of rule between us: no affection unless you've earned it.
I also had another little brother. He was born when I was seven. His name was Chris (and I didn't find a stupid nickname for him). He was born blond but his hair got darker when he grew up. He had my father's eyes, green like the sea, but the rest of his features were more on the Chase side of the family. I guess he was always a little more on his own compared to the relationship I had with Tony. We were born so close him and I, I guess it kind of linked us a certain way.
Anyway, coming back to my story. Spending our first full summer at camp was kind of a right of entry. I felt like it was the most beautiful day of my life when it happened. And of course, when you have godly parents that are allowed to interfere in your lives, well, they interfere, in a good but dangerous way. Before my "departure" for camp (because of course to be like a real camper you'd sleep in the cabins, not in my room at the Trident), my godly grandparents came to see me and asked me to choose the weapon I wanted and the way I wanted to conceal it – like Riptide turning into a pen. Athena advised me, talked me through different kinds of weapons, and when we settled on my staff, Poseidon had the idea on the shape it could take – a ring. The morning after, my uncle Tyson – my father's Cyclops half-brother – gave me the ring.
That's how my adventure began. A lot less glamorous than my father who fought the Minotaur barehanded or my mother who ran away, but still, it was a good beginning. After all, I only had to cross a bridge, my chances to meet a monster there were extremely thin.
I'll always remember my first day at camp. My father had told me a lot of things about it, especially how you had to make your own reputation the first day. He made the toilets erupt on his bullies; I'll just try for something a little more stylish.
Some things you have to know about us, immortal kids of the god. We grow up twice as fast as humans, meaning that I was only four and a half years old, and yet I looked like I was nine. Don't know if you've ever heard of stories about the gods being mentally fully grown when they were just newborns? Like Hermes who stole Apollo's cattle when he was just a few hours old? Well, these are the major gods, so they grew up a lot faster. Us, kids of immortals, we just grow up faster than humans, but we still go through the baby stage. And we don't go to school up until we are nine or ten. I'll talk about school later.
Why am I telling you this? Well, imagine the situation: I am theoretically four years old, my dad is kind of the headmaster, I wasn't arriving after a dangerous trip that involved monsters and near death experiences, and I have never been in a place such as school or any kind of group of fierce kids that settle hierarchy over toilet bowls.
I wasn't scared. I'm never scared. Or I'll never admit it anyway. I was walking up confident. I decided I'd go in cabin three – Poseidon's cabin – since my parents didn't have a cabin. Imagine how gross it would be if they started having demigod kids that came up to camp one day… So I had the choice between Athena and Poseidon. I didn't choose Poseidon because I preferred him. It's just that the cabin was empty – not Athena's.
Things never go unnoticed at camp. The second I finished to unpack my bag, the other kids were waiting for me outside. Of course it wasn't a welcoming party. It was the Bully Team, the one that wanted to know who had the nerve to go in cabin three.
The composition of that team is kind of expected. Ares kids. And it was led by no other than Peter, son of Zeus. He was such a stereotype. Fifteen, tall, dark hair, blue eyes, super white teeth, gorgeous smile that said "I'm awesome and I know it", with the body of an athlete and the perfect skin tan. All the Aphrodite girls were after him (the others too for that matter) but so far he had been the one breaking all their hearts, not the other way around.
And he was just there, looking at me with his arrogant smile, and I could feel it passing between us: the tension, (or could we call it electricity? Just joking) the way he was sizing me up. I just held his glare and I knew. I wasn't only the new kid. He was popular because he was Zeus's son, but I was immortal. I was his new target.
He didn't say anything, didn't do anything. His buddies started to walk away and so did he, at some point. I thought maybe my age pulled them back. Well, we'll see in the arena if my age is a problem.
My wish was granted fast. It was the first day back at camp for the summer campers, and the first thing they did was going to the arena. I was on my own in cabin three, and thus my own senior counsellor, so I just chose what I wanted to do. It was a good occasion to try out my new weapon.
A new thing that my parents had improved at camp: training. Some years ago, after the Argo II was constructed, bunker nine (as you all know it, discovered by Leo Valdez, who was maybe alive somewhere, or maybe dead, nobody knew) was used for the construction of other things. Cabin nine had found these blueprints of Training Automatons (or TAs, as we called them) and had designed twelve of them. They were the size of a normal adult, only they were machines. They had little screens on their faces, and you could fight them in different modes: "beginners", "advanced", "hard", "very hard", "you're dead" and "P&J" modes. Apparently the P&J mode was made for "Percy and Jason", who are actually the only ones who ever got that far. Most of the campers were "advanced" or "hard", and a few good ones from time to time would be "very hard". Of course Peter was one of these talented people.
I decided to start low, just to try out my new weapon. I put TA number 5 in beginners mode and started out with simple moves. It was easy, and my staff was so balanced and so easy to manipulate. In no time, TA number 5 was on the ground before me with the word "dead" glowing on its head. I started training into advanced mode. It took me a few more dodging and sidestepping before finding the right opportunity and knocking the TA to the ground by hitting it behind its knees. The word "dead" appeared on its head again. So far so good. I ordered him to go on hard mode. I had never done it before. I was usually training with my father or my mother, but they were busy right now. I have to say, it wasn't the wisest thing I've ever done. I had a new weapon between my hands and the hard mode, well, was hard. The TA didn't even let me the time to realise it had started to move. It knocked my staff out of my hands and pointed its sword at my chest, the word "winner" flashing on its head. I felt so stupid. I took my weapon off the ground, and activated the TA back in advanced mode.
Of course that's when Peter found his tongue.
"Well now, that was impressive! I think I've never seen someone losing that fast in hard mode. I guess you do things faster than the others, seeing that you're immortal and all." His friends started giggling behind him. He flashed his "I'm so awesome" smile and looked at me like I was some kind of joke. I didn't let him get to me. My TA was set anyway, and in advanced mode, it was giving you the chance to start first, but it wasn't going to wait for you eternally. I engaged. Seeing that his smart talk wasn't offending me, he continued:
"What's with the stick anyway? Do you use it for walking or what?"
New giggles. I concentrated on my TA, and eventually knocked its blade out of its hands. The word "dead" flashed once again on its head. Peter obviously wasn't done.
"Oh but wait, is this your weapon? What kind of weapon is that? Maybe your parents couldn't afford something better, I mean, they're minor gods, times are rough for everybody".
That was it, I couldn't stand it any longer.
"Well, come down and fight me yourself if you think you're so much better than me" I told him, trying to put all my anger in my voice. More laughter. What were they thinking? That laughing made them look impressive?
"Well, sorry, I don't fight little girls like you. I wouldn't want to hurt you."
"Coward" I replied. That seemed to do the trick. His buddies stopped laughing, but he didn't lose his stupid grin.
"Well, if you insist." He stepped towards me, picking up his spear that lied on the ground. And just like that, I started fighting someone twice as tall, with a lot more experience and strength than me. Now remember what I said. I'm not scared easily. Or I wouldn't admit it. Or rather, when I'm facing someone I hate so much, I don't think about fear, only about beating Hades out of him.
I stepped in first, but he deflected me easily. I continued to play offence, not letting him the time to try and attack me. I knew I couldn't keep this up, but I didn't want to let him think I was going to go down easily. I guess the effect worked, and after a few strikes that he deflected, he looked at me, kind of impressed.
"Not bad for a little girl, not bad, but not sufficient."
A few people had started to take notice and gathered around us. He stepped in, putting me back into my defences. He nearly overwhelmed me, attacking with such speed, force and skills. I staggered backwards, falling back into my last defences, and I thought that was it. I saw the last strike coming. I even had the time to see him smiling, he knew he had won.
Never talk to fast. He was so slow, so enjoying himself, I quickly knocked his spear downwards with my staff. Now remember what I was saying about the blade unbalancing the spear? To compensate for it, you have to take the spear farther away, whereas I hold my staff at its middle. You'd think it's a disadvantage, but it's actually one of the best things about my weapon: I could use both of its sides with equal force. While knocking his spear downwards, I was also able to knock him on the shoulder with the other side of the staff, unbalancing him. He staggered backwards. The tip of his spear was on the ground, and before he could have the time to straighten himself, I kicked the spear out of his hands. He stood in front of me, weaponless; I had won. I just knocked on the side of his knee, pretending it was just the logical end of course of my last move. He fell to the ground, kneeling in front of me. It felt so good. He wasn't smiling now, was he?
Then I looked around. I didn't know if it was the wild look on my face or the fact that Peter was kneeling in front of me, but everybody was looking at me with horrified eyes. Well I guess I had successfully made my own rep, but maybe not the one I wanted.