Author's Note: Okay, FYI, I am not Stitch415. He was just sooo busy that he begged me to update this story for him, as if I'm not busy, too. Now I spent my precious time writing this instead of studying for my quiz tomorrow. If I fail, it's his fault. So don't blame me for this short and boring chapter, and the time it took for me to update. Don't you just dare. Percy is a teensy bit OOC here, too. He's a little too smart.

Happy Chinese New Year!:]

DISCLAIMER: Me no own PJO, nor do I own this story.

Percy

I was staring outside the car's window, with a song I'm not familiar with playing in the background. I couldn't get Nico's plan out of my head—it kept on bothering me. He wanted Alecto to replace Mrs. Kincate for gods-know-how-long. He promised he had her under control; of course, that wasn't what's bothering me. I knew Alecto would follow what Nico wanted, not unless she'd want to offend Hades for not obeying his son. (Yes, Nico and Lord Hades had gotten close ever since the Titan War ended.) It's just that—how do you expect me to be casual and okay with Alecto after my horrible encounter with her when I was twelve? This is Mrs. Dodds we're talking about! One of Hades' three, mercilessFuries, not just any other cruel teacher like Mrs. Kincate who wants to make her students suffer as much as possible.

"Is there anything wrong, sweetie?" My mom's concerned voice snapped me out of my thoughts, her warm, brown eyes filled with worry as she stared at me. I was so deep in thought I didn't realize the car had stopped for the red lights.

"Nothing," I lied. I didn't like lying to my mom very much, to be honest. And I knew it'd be better if I just tell her because she could always make me feel so much better, but I didn't want to ruin our supposedly happy trip to Chinatown.

Mom didn't look convinced, of course—she knew me enough to know there's something wrong—but she decided to drop it. She knew I'd tell her when I wanted to. That's one of the millions of reasons why I love my mom so much.

The car behind us honked. Apparently, a minute had passed and the traffic light's switched to green, signaling us to go.

The rest of the car ride wasn't eventful. We were both silent, just sitting on our seats and listening to the radio. It wasn't an awkward silence, though. Mom and I never got awkward with each other, really—we're very fond with each other.

Mom pulled up and shut down the engine. We unbuckled our seatbelts and stepped out of the car, gazing at the beautiful sight before me. I suddenly thought of Annabeth and her addiction to architecture. Surely, if she had come with us, she would love the sight I'm now seeing before me. My mom had told me that this wasn't my first time to come here—she said she took me her as a baby.

As we entered Chinatown, almost everything we could see was red—red lanterns, red envelopes, and even the people mostly wore red clothes. Here and there, Chinese people spoke in fluid Mandarin and Fookien. Some shops were selling Chinese lanterns that come in different sizes, red envelopes, jade jewelry, good luck charms that the Chinese people believed in, and gold figurines of Buddha and the metal rabbit. There were also small luncheonettes where Chinese dishes were sold. We'd sometimes past by a couple of locals simply enjoying the Chinese New Year, like us.

Mom and I stopped by a Chinese grocery and looked through the tea section. There, Mom took four cans of Wong Lo Kat Herbal Teas. Next to Nectar and Cherry Coke, Wong Lo Kat is the best drink ever.

After paying, we just looked through some of the other shops, and Mom bought me a pendant, which, according to the Chinese saleslady, was a good luck charm. I didn't really believe in that, and I insisted I'd only get it lost. I always get things lost. But Mom insisted, and gods knew I couldn't resist her.

That's exactly how we spent the whole day: roaming around Chinatown and see what we could find. No monster attacks, which is good.

We had dinner. Chinese food was good, but not as much as Mom's cooking and the food back at camp. After stuffing in, we hung around the luncheonette for a little more while before once again going outside the town.

Alas, there's the Dragon Dance. I heard it before I even saw it—the beating of the drum from a couple of yards away. When the Dragon was at sight, I saw it was very colourful—no surprise there. It was a combination of red, orange, and green. The drummers were a mix of Chinese and Americans. Fireworks were seen in the night sky. This was one of the most perfect days ever—just me and my mom. No monster attacks, nothing out of the ordinary. It was as if we were just having a regular mother and son bonding.

But of course, it had to get ruined. The Fates never actually allowed me to enjoy one whole day, because as I turned my head, standing a few feet away from me, was Nancy Bobofit.

I groaned loudly—which, thankfully, hadn't been heard from the loud drumming and firecrackers.

Great, I thought bitterly. Way to ruin the day, Nancy.

Said person turned, revealing her ugly, freckly face. Her eyes widened upon seeing me. I glared—but I was secretly glad she wouldn't be able to make a scene—not when I had my mom beside me, and her aunt beside her.

She glanced behind her, making sure her aunt wasn't looking, and made a rude gesture at me, with a sneer I figured she loved doing. Lucky for me, there was a small puddle of water just nearby. So I acted like I was ignoring her, and when I was sure she wasn't looking, I made the puddle of water splash her—straight in the face.

To make it funnier, her mouth was slightly agape when she turned, so she drank a little amount of the dirty water. She wasn't able to figure out it was me, because I had my back turned, silently laughing at her.

Well, what do you know. . . Maybe the Fates are in my favour today.

I may be a total Seaweed Brain, but when it comes to stupid things like that, I'm a real genius.

*yawn* I couldn't really care less if you like it or not. I write because I do, no matter your opinion. Flame it, for all I care.

Oh, and Stitch? You owe me big time.

~Midnight Epitome