I wrote this story a long time ago. It's not very good, and my writings not as good as it is now, but I figured I'd post it anyway. I think I wrote four chapters. I might finish it if you'd like me to.

Chapter two: A mythological creature and I talk about my father

When I arrived at my second period classroom, Mr. Bengal immediately told me to go to the principal. People were look at me strangely as I turned around and walked the familiar path to the office.

What did I do now? I thought as I pushed open a huge glass door. I started for the principal's desk, but stopped when I noticed my mom waiting patiently in a chair. She stood up when she saw me.

"What did it look like?" she asked me quietly. I stared at her.

"...What?" I asked.

"The cacadeus!" Was her hushed response.

Somehow, I knew she was talking about the glowing staff I saw earlier this morning. I explained to her what it looked like, and she listened intently, as if her life depended on it. Then she sighed.

"He told me he was going to claim you today, but I didn't expect it to be so... subtle. You father has never been subtle," she said.

"What on Earth are you talking about, mom?" I asked.

"We need to talk."

... ... ... ...

My mom and I drove in silence to our favorite coffee shop. She lived 2 blocks away from the boarding school, so we hung out on weekends. Usually it was here.

We ordered the usual (a vanilla bean frappuchino for me, a caramel latte for her) and sat down at a secluded table.

"Marcya," she began in a hushed tone. "We need to talk about your father."

"What about him?" I asked. "He's dead. He died before I was born."

"No," my mother said. "He didn't."

I stared at her, confused. "Then why didn't he visit, huh?" I said in a stiff voice. "Why didn't he ever pay child support or help you raise me?"

"He did, Marcya. He just couldn't live with us. We decided it would be dangerous if you knew him, but now that he was forced to claim you..."

"What do you mean? Why couldn't he come live with us?"

A waitress that appeared out of nowhere coughed nervously.

"I hate to interrupt your mother-daughter conversation," she said politely. "But here's your order." She rushed off. My mother sighed and placed her hands around her coffee cup. I clenched my teeth and my fists.

"I've wanted a father my whole life," I said angrily. "Why couldn't he live with us?"

"Because he lives on Mount Olympus," my mom said quickly, shocking me out of my anger. "He couldn't live with us or raise you because he's immortal. A Greek god."

I stared at her, still shocked.

"Please don't be mad, Marcie. Hermes loved us both very much. He always did, he loves everyone, but-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said. "Back up. My father is the Greek god Hermes? The trickster? The messenger guy? The one-man welcoming committee?"

My mom nodded.

"Well, that explains a lot."

"Not enough, though," my mom said, leaning closer to me. "What else have you learned?"

"Nothing. We just started learning about the Greeks."

"No, not in class, Marcya. Not myths. The real stuff. The things you're going to go through."

"What?"

"You're a half-blood, Marcie. Part god, part human."

It didn't register in my brain until just then. My father was a Greek god. That would make me part Greek god. Part Hermes. Did that mean I had magic powers, or whatever?

"What happens now?" I asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

"Now, you go back to class," my mom sighed, finishing off her latte as my frappuchino sat, untouched, and melted.

I stayed sitting as my mom stood and threw her cup away. She waited for me to follow her to the car, but I didn't move an inch.

"How long have you known?" I asked, hurt.

My mom hung her head.

"Your whole life."

... ... ... ...

I got back to my dorm room in time for 3rd period, but I didn't feel like going. I laid down on the top bunk and stared at the ceiling. I spaced out for 26 minutes, and then I heard someone approach my door and knock softly. I assumed it was a teacher or assistant principal.

"I'm not coming to class," I said, not removing my eyes from the ceiling. There were soft footsteps from the doorway to my bed.

"Miss Prrreston?" a young male voice said. It was gruff and sounded vaguely goat-ish, and I'd never heard it before. I sat up quickly, hitting my head on the ceiling.

That hurt. A lot.

I rubbed my skull and glanced over to where the voice had come from. Standing there was a boy of about 17, even though his goatee and unruly curly hair made him seem much older. He wore a giant hat, baggy jeans, and oversized tennis-shoes.

"Umm, yes?" I said.

"I don't really know how to say this," the boy stammered. "But, um... have you ever been attacked by any monsters?"

"Do flying English papers count?"

"It depends," he said, blowing a brownish-red curl out of his face. "Who's your godly parent?"

"Hermes," I said blankly.

"Then no, that's not a monster."

"How do you know?"

"Well, you don't smell like monsters. How long ago were you claimed?"

"One hour and 40 minutes ago"

"That explains why you don't have a scent yet. Hmm. After the paper attacked you, did you see the mark of your father?"

"I think. If that's what the stick and the snakes mean."

"Then Hermes was playing a prank on you. I'm guessing no one noticed the flying paper?"

"Nope."

"Magic," Grover said, nodding like he was confirming his deepest fear.

"Awesome."

"I'm Grover, by the way," he said, holding his hand up for me to shake. I reached down to him from my bunk and shook it. The second our hands connected, I heard a low growl. All the color drained from Grover's face.

"Oh, no. I was afraid of this. I knew it was following me," he whimpered.

"What?" I asked. "What followed you?"

Grover didn't respond, he simply reached down into his bag and threw me a bow and some arrows.

"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood training," he said. "It's time for your first monster attack."

Yeah, this is an old story.

Review? :D