James POV

My day had been going great until my long-lost dad appeared in front of me after twelve years with no contact. It was supposed to be the best day ever. My sixteenth birthday. The last day of Spring Break. My friends and I had planned the whole day. First we were going to see the new fantasy movie that had come out on Friday, then to the park to try out the new archery range. I've never missed a shot, which is always surprising given that I have a lazy eye. Afterward we were planning on going back to my house for some proper partying. But that was before my life was changed forever.

I was woken up, as usual, to my mom throwing something at me.

"Wake up, squid! You don't wanna miss out on your own birthday, do ya?" My mom shouted into my room. She's always been a lively sort, and always comes up with weird nicknames for people. I mean really, Squid?

Okay, let me back up. You're probably wondering who the heck I am and all that. I'm James McAim. I've lived in Louisiana since my dad stopped coming by when I was about four. My mom and I moved to New Orleans and married this man from the Caribbean islands that had been attending Law School with her two years later. Since then we'd had a pretty peaceful existence. I was in a lot of musicals and I sang in the choir at my school, so I was pretty well known in the area. Now that we've got that covered, let's get back on track, shall we?

I sat bolt upright, kicked off the covers, changed into my usual attire (khakis, black t-shirt, and my fedora hat), and headed out the door to wait for Joey and the others to pick me up. I grabbed the stick I had carved out of a cypress branch and began to practice the forms my stepdad had taught me. Hey, I might as well kill the time.

"Nice swinging, champ. You've got a good sword arm. Of course, I always preferred to use a bow."

I nearly jumped out of my Reeboks. I turned around and there, leaning up against one of the willows on our street, was a blonde guy wearing a one of those Blues Brothers. He had a suit, a multicolored tie with a design that looked like rays of sunshine, aviator sunglasses, and a fedora like mine. He had teeth so white they looked painted. In short, he looked like a male model who had joined the mafia.

"Who in the name of all things dramatic are you?" I asked. Hey, this guy had just appeared in my front yard, I think I had the right to ask.

"Oh, straight to the point. I like that." Movie star dude observed. "It's been a while since I appeared to one of my children. Yup, I'm your dad. Sorry about not showing up for the past eleven birthdays, but I'm usually busy. Being a god isn't easy, you know" His perfect smile never wavered.

As you can imagine, my mind was reeling. My dad? Gods? WHAT?

"What are you TALKING about?" I demanded. "How can you just appear in front of me, claim you're my father, then start talking about you being a god? Explain yourself!" I really hate it when people don't give me a straight answer.

My "dad" stayed smiling. "It might be hard to believe, kiddo, but you're part of something much bigger than you know. You remember the greek myths, right?"

My eyes widened. I loved Greek mythology. I used to spend hours in the Parish Library reading about the greek gods and heroes. There wasn't a single myth I didn't know.

"Yeah, I more than remember them. I'm a whiz at that stuff." I said, raising an eyebrow. Where was this guy going with this?

"Well, then I think you'll be glad to know that all those old stories are real. I'm Apollo," Music Man proclaimed. He took one of his hands out of his pocket and a ball of fire sputtered to life in his palm. I watched the flames dance in amazement.

"See?" Apollo asked, his smile growing. "I'm Apollo, god of the Sun and the arts. You're my son. Why do you think you've never missed a shot in Archery classes? What about why people always say you're so dramatic and that you've got a great singing voice? It's my ichor kicking in. You're my son, and I've come to claim you. Though, this is a step out of tradition..." I figured this guy would go on talking for hours if I didn't shut him up. My mind wandered. What was I supposed to do now? I'd just found out my dad was one of the greek gods. Great, now what? Should I bow down or give him a hug? I looked down at the stick I was still holding. No, I had a better idea.

WAP!

"OW!" Apollo yelled. Huh, apparently greek gods aren't invulnerable to wood sticks. Apollo rubbed his head. "You caught me by surprise", he muttered. At least that annoying smile was gone.

"That... was for leaving my mom after I was born, AND THEN leaving again after coming back when I was four. On top of that, how about every time I won an award during the State Choral Festival? How about all those Christmases you missed? Huh? Well?" I yelled, swinging the stick again. This time, he caught it.

"Look, I know that I haven't been there for you when you needed me, but I was there during all your musical shows and contests. Gods can be in multiple places at once. I was there, you just didn't see me. And I brought gifts," He said hurriedly. Obviously, this guy wasn't used to dealing with hostile teens.

I froze mid-swing. What did he mean, he was there? And gifts? As if giving me something could make up for twelve years?

"Here", Apollo pulled out a flash-drive. Nothing fancy. I took it from him. "Open it", he encouraged. I slid it open, and it changed into a sword. Yes, an actual sword. I examined the detail. Swords was another of my obsessions. I knew every detail of a good blade. The hilt and cross-guard were made out of polished black wood, and the four-foot blade was made out of some kind of bronze. I held it upright. The balance was slightly forward, so swings would have extra momentum.

"It's name is Pathos," Apollo commented.

"Passion," I translated. Where had that come from? I never studied Greek.

"Exactly. Oh, and one more thing" He touched my fedora, light coming off his fingers. "Your hat's magic now. You can store anything you want in there, and there's already a quiver of arrows, a yew bow, and any musical instrument that you can imagine." I took off my hat, reached inside, and pulled out a clarinet, the first instrument I had learned to play. That was when Apollo made the final statement.

"Now we've got to get you to New York"

"Wait, WHAT?" I demanded. "Sure, it's nice you've come for my birthday and given me magical items and all, but I am NOT going to move in with you or anything like that!" Who did this guy think he was? Okay, he was a god, but still.

"Look James, do you know what you are? If your dad is a god, what does that make you?"

"A demigod," I answered immediately.

"Uh-huh, and demigods are meant to be trained, or monsters will kill you. Yes, those are real too. You've got to get to Camp Half-Blood, where demigods are trained to survive. I've already run this by your mother." Apollo stated grimly.

"Look, you can't just waltz in here, claim you're my dad, and then tell me to go cross-country to some place I hardly know anything about!" I yelled.

"It's the only way. Oh, look at that. See what I mean?" He pointed behind me. I turned around, and I saw a horror of horrors. A green lady with snake tails instead of legs was slithering down the road, coming toward us with a spear. I swore.

"Okay, changed my mind. Get me out of here! Wait, will everyone be safe?" I had to ask.

My dad nodded. "They only want you. Once you're out of their reach, they'll leave everyone else alone."

"Alright, then I say it again: Get me out of here!" I yelled at him. With that, Apollo, Greek god of the sun and music waved his hand, and everything vanished in a flash of gold light.