Ethan~

I wakes up sweating from a horrifying dream. There were four deaths, each getting progressively sadder and scarier.

"It's time to tell you the truth Ethan. Sit down."

I nearly jump out of my bed when I hear my mother speak.

"I already was sitting, or rather lying, until you came in here. How long have you been sitting there?" I ask her, not hearing her come in.

"Long enough to see you moaning in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?"

"Doesn't matter. What's the 'truth'," I shiver, still half asleep.

"Come downstairs. Now."

I slowly rise out of my warm and tempting bed to go downstairs at 5:36 in the morning. I trudge down the stairs; my mother and father are both already sitting at the table with a plate of pancakes in front of them. I sit down and my father pushes the pancakes in front of me.

"Eat up. We're going on a trip to New York. It'll be explained on the plane but get dressed and pack all your clothes. You might be there for a while."

I quickly scarf down the remaining pancake bites then dash upstairs. I've always wanted to go to New York, but why they would spontaneously take me there on the last week of school makes no sense. But my parents' seriousness and my mother's weirdness about telling me the truth makes me think that it's serious. So I waste no time in taking my parent's largest suitcase and packing nearly all of my clothes in it.

It thumps down each step only fifteen minutes later, after I've taken a shower and changed into clean clothes.

An envelope gets shoved into my hand and someone says, "don't open this until you get on the plane." I can't tell if it's mom or dad who says it in the bustle to get out the door and into a taxi. Why do they have to keep making it seem like I'm going alone?

My mother checks the huge suitcase while my father and I sit on a couch by the side. Before we go through security, my mother hands me my ticket and tells me to go along and be a good boy, and they will be there soon.

I get on the plane and they aren't here. Finally some strangers sit in the middle and end seats, so I decide to read the letter. My hands tremble as I slide my first finger through the flap.

Ethan,

I'm really sorry son, but we're not going to New York with you. We got a call yesterday from some English folks, and they told us the truth about you. Here's the truth, son. You're adopted. We're not your real parents. We knew nothing about you when we got you; you were found on some road somewhere and you were brought to an orphanage. These folks told us that you were the son of some Greek god and some magic person or something. They said we had to send you to New York so they could train you up to defeat the darkness. We won't be seeing you for a while Ethan.

When you get there, a lady called Annabeth Chase will be waiting for you. You go with her to where you will be living. You're going to be staying with a girl who's like you in an apartment. Don't try anything funny now. We trust you son. And we love you. Be a good boy for the people in the 'big apple'

mom and dad

I lay my head back in the seat and, not caring that I am 17 years old, let the tears roll down my cheeks.