Sandra Shade - Being Half-Human

by ThaliaofAvalon

Sandra Shade is a demigod who embraces her destiny, but struggles with stereotypes, songwriting, peer pressure, and the ever-present boy trouble, while trying to maintain a relationship with her godly parent. Can Sandra stay true to herself, as she's plunged into this world where nothing is as it seems? Or will she lose all compassion in a desperate battle for survival?

10. A Dream

Disclaimer: my name is neither Rick nor Riordan. Hi guys! I'm sorry for not updating for a little while. I lacked inspiration and time, I had lots of tests, and my little sister came down with a really bad case of the stomach flu... But no more excuses. Thank you, lolitathegoddessorca860! You are officially my first reviewer/messager ever! This story is a bit short, but it is here. you get to see the fun side of Sandra! Enjoy! - ThaliaofAvalon

Sandra was sitting in class next to a boy with short, dark-brown hair. She was turned around in her seat, listening to a different boy with long, mussed-up brown hair that was always in his eyes. Suddenly, she sensed a presence that hadn't been there before. The world around her seemed to become dimmer, slowing down. The voices of the other students faded away.

Strange, she thought. That didn't happen the first time around. For of course, this was a memory. She turned around, and found herself looking into deep brown eyes – the sort you just can't turn away from. She was caught breathless and still for a thousand years, lost in those eyes, yet every moment, they became more of a mystery. Finally, he broke the silence. "So," he remarked drily, "you're the girl they're all talking about."

Sandra felt a surge of excited curiosity; "They were talking about me? Who was talking about me? What did they say?" Inwardly, Sandra could tell that this was her past-self shining through. The girl she had become would never have spoken so thoughtlessly. The corner of the boy's mouth quirked up in a half smile that somehow made her more distracted. She couldn't help noticing that he smelled of summertime and campfires, warmth, safety, home. Focus! She reminded herself. A little voice inside of her said I am focusing – on him. The boy let out a quick breath of air that might have been a laugh. "Yeah," he nodded, smiling; "sorry. I've been told it's hard to focus around me." Sandra blushed.

I really hope he can't read my mind, she thought. The boy reached behind his head, and scratched his neck in embarrassment. "Yeah, about that – I sort of can read your mind." Then he remembered his manners. Standing up straighter, he held out his hand to introduce himself. "I'm – well, call me Cyan."

He clearly didn't do this very often, because his hand was palm up, as though he were waiting for a raindrop to fall on it, and he was trying too hard to smile with his teeth. Sandra shook her head, smiling herself. Oh boy. He has a lot to learn.