RACHAEL

Chapter 4

I've been an orphan for as long as I can remember.

I lived in 'Madam Isabelle's Orphanage for Young Girls' in Coquitlam, BC. It was a shabby place, and not very well known so we rarely got donations. Whenever we were lucky enough to get money it was always hoarded by Madam Isabelle.

Madam Isabelle is what you may call 'a strict adult'. As far as I know she doesn't have kids of her own, but she acted like she was the mother of the whole world. She was the kind of person who would pull you aside and scold you if you were playing rough on the playground and would remind you to 'eat your vegetables!' while at a restaurant. Madam treated the whole orphanage very strictly, but she seemed to hate me in particular. Whenever one of the kids was playing rough she scolded me. Whenever I snuck food she scolded me. It seemed that Madam went out of her way just to find some kind of fault, no matter how small or insignificant.

I didn't really like Madam.

One day, after much of pestering about where I had come from, she explained that I was a 'foundling'. Apparently one cold autumn day Madam had opened the door to find a small cardboard box on her doorstep. It wasn't very large, not much bigger than a shoebox and had three holes in the top in the shape of a triangle for air. The only words written on it was Handle With Care in a thin black permanent marker. Madam opened the box to find yours truly, wrapped in a tiny light blue patchwork quilt. Tucked in a fold in the box was a small worn out slip of paper that read:

Baby Girl

8th February, 1999 2:30AM

That cold evening onwards Madam Isabelle took care of me and raised me in her dainty orphanage. It was the one thing I respected her for. After learning this I searched the entire orphanage from top to bottom until I found it.

The box was hidden behind old scraps of drywall in the building's attic and I have kept it with me ever since.

I grew up in the orphanage, walking the younger kids to and from school. Though I didn't go to school myself, Madam Isabelle tutored me herself at the orphanage. It was like homeschooling, but Madam didn't follow the curriculum. She taught me whatever she thought was necessary such as survival skills, but focused mainly on mythology. Greek, Roman, Egyptian, I knew it all.

One spring day, when I was 11 years old, I was taking a walk. It was a beautiful day. There was a soft spring breeze that ruffled through the green leaves; the flowers were in full bloom, and the sun high up in the sky.

I was still an hour away from the orphanage when I saw the smoke.

Thick plumes of it rose into the sky, heating the air. I ran as fast as I could. By the time I got there, the entire orphanage was in ruins. The last flames of fire licked the walls, and the smoke rose higher and higher in the air. The siren of a fire truck wailed in the distance but I could hardly hear it.

I skirted around the orphanage digging around for anything I could salvage. But the entire building had been consumed. By now I was yelling out, crying and screaming at the top of my lungs. The orphanage wasn't the best place in the world, but it was the only place I knew. The only one I could call home.

"Madam! Madam!" I screamed, hopelessly digging through the ash. But what I found wasn't Madam, but the corner of certain worn out shoebox.

I dug it out and quickly as I could. Apart from a bit of ash that had settled on it and a couple of burned edges, the box was unscathed. It seemed to be the only thing that had survived the fire. Hugging the frail box I got up and ran. I just kept running. I didn't have a certain goal in mind, as long as it was away from that place.

I was only 11, and didn't have any idea what to do, but those lessons of survival had proved extremely useful. I found ways around. I learned how to manage. A couple weeks ago, this would have seemed completely impossible, but whenever I didn't know what to do, a little voice would speak inside my head, giving me advice. I also went out of my way to avoid Social Services. I'd rather be on my own then with them. And no matter what, I always kept my box close.

It was only a few months later when I ran into my first monster. Looking back now, it was almost a good thing that I didn't know I was a demigod, or the monsters would've found me even sooner. The monster was 12 feet tall, with bulging arms and fat legs. It's face looked like it was stuck in a permanent scowl, with its single eye blinking angrily.

Yep, I was pretty scared.

The monster, or a Cyclops as I now knew it to be, towered over me. I didn't realize its intentions until I saw it raise its club.

I barely made it out alive. I sprinted away as fast as I could, clutching my box and a newfound backpack. I ducked and jumped and turned, not even daring to look behind me. Eventually I lost the Cyclops, but I still was scared out of my wits.

A couple weeks later, I ran upon a knife. I had run into many knifes, kitchen knifes, workshop knifes, you name it. But this was different. I felt a bond with it right away, and somehow I knew this was meant for me. Usually the idea of carrying a knife scared me, but when put the knife in my backpack, I felt stronger. More ready.

It was beautiful in a different kind of way. It had a short leather handle that was supple to the touch from years of use. The blade was sharp and long, but not in a scary, overpowering kind of way. It was more like a soft blade, meant for self-defence, for me to feel safe.

I had wondered many times where the knife had come from. I knew that it hadn't been left there by accident. It was put there on purpose. Somehow, somewhere, someone was trying to help me. I didn't like knives, and never used them as a weapon, but this one was my lucky charm.

…

I was twelve years old when I found Camp Half-Blood.

It had been a quiet day, and I had recently moved on to Long Island in New York to try to find shelter. No monsters attacked, but I had been running low on food, and needed a place to restock on supplies. That evening, I curled up in an alleyway, my teeth chattering due to an especially cold night. My eyes had just about closed when I saw her.

Another monster.

I stood up, gripping my knife. My box along with other supplies was in my backpack and I was ready to bolt at any second of necessary. My whole body was shaking as I took in the creature. It looked wrinkled and old, but somehow knew that it wouldn't hesitate to strike. The creature had bat-like wings, brass talons, and wore a dress of black as dark as obsidian. The she-creature's face was twisted in a cruel sort of way.

I was shivering uncontrollably now, from the cold or solid fear I didn't know. My stomach felt like it had been plunged through icy water. I felt like a frozen block of ice, rooted to the spot, unable to do anything. Three more appeared in the alley, almost stepping out of the shadows. Their eyes were a glowing red, focused on me.

"Who-what are you?" I managed, forcing the words out.

We are the curses. We are the hatred. We are the arai!

I decided that now would be a good time to run. I unfroze, my instincts taking over, and bolted through the streets, the arai yelling curses as they sprinted after me. Their voices were like writhing snakes, twisted and mean. I had never run so fast. I didn't know what those things were or what they wanted, but I knew I had to run. I dodged and ran for I don't know how long, but somehow I stayed alive. I figure you can run pretty fast when you're about to be dinner for four she-demons. My whole body was crying out with pain and tire from running for so long, but I didn't stop.

Eventually I found myself running up a hill, the grass wet with dew. I looked up to see what I thought was some kind of camp. What? Why is anyone camping out here? But something told me that I should keep running that way. Where there was a camp there were people, and I could use any type of help right now.

My face was beaded with sweat as I kept running for my life, but I started to slow down. My body was screaming with pain from the few slashes the arai had managed to deliver. I stopped, heaving and trying to muster any courage I could. I turned around to find them right behind me, closing in fast.

"Don't come in any closer." It was meant as a challenge, but came out in a croak. My body reacted as I slammed into something, and my hands touched bark. I was backed up as far as I could go. I clutched the tree with all my strength, trying not to black out. The arai closed in, and I knew that my year of luck would end here. It was over.

You have out up quite a fight, little one, but no more. Now we will feast! The arai pounced, talons drawn, and lunged for my throat. I tried to knock her out of the way, but she forced me to the ground. The monster pinned me down, her black wings spread out, filling my eyes with darkness. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Hey! Leave her alone you uglies!"

I opened my eyes to find two people running towards me. One of them was a girl older than me, and she was holding a dagger in her hand. The other person was a boy who looked about the same age, maybe 15? The voices seemed distant, but soon grew stronger as they neared me, yelling out some very unkind things. The arai grew agitated, and the one on top of me stood up, but not before slashing me in the stomach. I cried out in agony and tried to blink the spots out of my eyes. The arai backed away from me, one of them kicking me away. The girl and boy were yelling again.

"Annabeth! Get back into camp!" said the boy.

"You very well know I'm not going anywhere!"

"Fine."

I managed to glance the boy fighting the monsters with a three-foot long bronze sword like a professional, deflecting their shots and delivering blows faster then ever. Meanwhile the girl hurried over to me.

"Come on! You have to get up!" the girl was pulling on my arm, so I propped myself up, but as I readied myself to stand, she just started dragging me in the direction of the camp.

"Percy!" she screamed, while still dragging me like a rag doll. She stopped, and I looked up in fear of the arai, but they were gone, and all I saw were four nice little piles of dust where they had one been. What was that about?

"Annabeth! You can't just go around dragging people like that!"

"Oh. Right."

"I'll get her." He walked over and carefully lifted me up and carried me to the camp, thankfully in a more dignified way. He soon put me down, as if we had crossed some kind of border, but I didn't see any difference. I was still shocked from the turn of events.

"You'll be safe here," the girl said. "The monsters cannot get past Thalia's tree." she said this in a pained sort of way, as if recalling hurtful memories. I tried to look up at her, but I was feeling extremely dizzy. My surroundings blurred in and out of focus, like a camera trying to get a clear shot. My whole body felt ice cold, and I cried out as the fresh pain of the monster's slash came back. I tried to get a grip on things, but I couldn't focus. All I can remember after that was simply falling to the ground.

The next thing I remembered was someone feeding a sort square thing to me. I swallowed, almost not even bothering to chew, and as soon as I tasted it a warm feeling spread through my entire body. It tasted exactly like the fresh bread we would sometimes bake at the orphanage. The memory filled me with longing.

I blinked and opened my eyes to find myself in a deck chair on the nicest porch I've ever seen, looking at a view of a green meadow and rolling hills. The boy was sitting next to me, almost studying me. I looked up to see the night sky, filled with stars, and the full moon glowing high in the sky.

"Uh...what exactly happened?" I asked, still trying to get a grip. But the boy just shook his head and fed me more of that square. I felt another warm ripple pass through me, and slowly everything felt clear. Remembering my mythology lessons, I understood. It was ambrosia: the food of the gods.

"I'm Percy," said the boy. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," I replied. "Where am I?" Percy simply sighed. Looked like these people were used to everyday children covered in dirt showing up. He took in my black curly hair now tied in two pigtails and my aquamarine blue eyes.

"We better take you to Chiron." He helped me stand up, and together we walked down from the porch, and around the house.

As we rounded the corner, I caught my breath. The scenery was almost too much to take in. The land was dotted with ancient Greek buildings, a pavilion, an amphitheater and a circular arena, but what was weird about them is that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns almost glowing in the moonlight. At the end of the porch, two people were sitting at a table. The man had big watery eyes, a red nose, and curly hair so black it looked like dark purple and wore a Hawaiian shirt. The other one I recognized to be the girl who had dragged me like a rag doll into camp. She had long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, and intense gray eyes. But what really caught my attention was a man sitting on a white stallion nearby. No, he wasn't sitting on the horse, he was the horse.

Okay, so this was a little weird.

Percy introduced the man to be Mr. D, and the blond girl to be Annabeth Chase. The horse-man leaned down and stuck out his hand and introduced himself to be Chiron, the 'camp director'. Percy sat down, and the four of them just stared at me.

"Okay, I have no idea where I am and who you are, and I have done nothing wrong. So can someone just tell me what is going on?" I demanded. This was turning out to be the craziest day of my life and I seriously needed answers.

Chiron took a deep breath and asked, "Rachael, have you heard of Greek mythology?"

…

That was the day where I learned about being a demigod.

Chiron said that a god or goddess would hopefully claim me that night at the campfire, but he couldn't be sure. I wasn't claimed, so I moved to the Hermes cabin, which is where all the new campers sleep. But after a while the Hermes cabin got super crowded, so I moved yet again to the Athena cabin.

I soon forgave Annabeth for treating me like a rag doll and we went on to be really good friends. Turns out she had arrived at Camp Half-Blood after running away herself, so we understood each other, even though she was three years older than me. After reaching Camp Half-Blood I took up archery, and seemed to have a gift for it. I got my bow and arrow, named Alexis, from the Athena Cabin. It even seemed to glow by the light of the full moon. Over the year I increased my skill at archery, and soon took up pegasus riding as well. I loved to climb trees, and was very good at stealth. Before I knew it I was going on my own quests, and helping Percy and Annabeth with theirs.

Time passed, and when Rick Riordan – a mortal who could see through the Mist – started writing his books about being a demigod and wanted to include me, Chiron refused and said I should be kept a secret. I never understood why, and even now I do not know his intentions. Two years later, I still have my box and the words Handle With Care have not yet faded.

At the age of fourteen, I became the youngest member of the Great Prophecy, otherwise known as the Prophecy of Eight. Yes, you heard me right. Not seven, eight. Like I said, Chiron kept me a secret. And to do that he made Rick Riordan change the prophecy to make it have seven people instead.

Life's pretty good as a demigod, and I have made more friends than I could ever have imagined. But there is one thing that has really bothered me since.

Who are my parents?