(Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Rick Riordan does. I only own Nathan Boone and some characters.)

In this chapter, I'm focusing on Nathan's past memories. Just to give a feel on how he sees the world, his opinions, and everything else in between.

December 14-15

Percy's POV

Walking back to my cabin, I instantly fell asleep and for the first time since the Titan War, a dream appeared. I was standing in the pouring rain outside of the cabin area when a guy younger than me in black robes was running towards me. I could barely hear his words.

"C'mon! It's only a matter of time before he subdues you!" he yelled. A hood covered his face where I couldn't see higher than his lips.

"What's going on?" I yelled, "Who's after me?"

"No time! We must hurry!"

"Are you Nico?"

"A distant cousin maybe—" he looked the other direction, "—RUN!"

I didn't hesitate to run out of the cabin area. Freezing rain was stinging my face in the winter weather. The last thing I remember was charging through the door of the Big House before someone with familiar upturned nose and eyebrows whacked me with a wooden plank.

I woke up shivering from the cold. Moaning and turning over, I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn't shake the memory. Who was that guy? Who was after me? I hope this won't turn out as another war. Kronos couldn't possibly reform that quick.

Nathan's POV

Opening my eyes, the first thing they settled upon was a small paper cup on the nightstand. I made sure the honey yellow liquid didn't spill by firmly grasping my hand around it. It was somewhere around three and don't ask me how I knew that. I just knew, even without a clock sitting beside me.

Propping myself upright in the soft medical bed, I lifted the cup to my lips. For some strange reason, it tasted like hot dogs instead of honey. A warm sensation spread throughout my body and made me feel like I could throw Harley Osbourne, a bully back in Nebraska, a hundred yards across the gym stadium.

Suddenly, a memory flooded into my mind when I mentioned it.

Flashback.

I was sitting quietly in my history class. The teacher had gone to get copies of notes about the War of 1812 and I was reading from my history book when Harley started throwing paper wads at one of the computer nerds sitting in the back of the room.

"Stop that!" he yelled.

"Make me, you scar face!" Harley backfired, but he could've said worse. I tried to keep my mind focused but since I have ADHD and dyslexia, I had a hard time reading and keeping myself from getting distracted.

Other kids started to hurl themselves into the fight and yelled complaints. When Harley jumped up from his seat and started screaming in one of the girl's faces, I slammed my book closed in frustration and placed fingers to my temples. The screams and fights ravaged on until I couldn't take it anymore. The next action I did was so scary and impulsive; a psychologist could've run out the door, screaming her head off.

I slammed my fists on the desk and screamed, "SHUT—UP!"

The room suddenly darkened with my anger and noise finally died down. Everyone stared at me, leaving horrified and awestruck faces. My face must have looked murderous because they slowly took their seats as they were before they started this fight.

I didn't realize it until I looked down at my desk. It had deep cracks embedded in it like an earthquake just made its way through Sacramento. Without warning, the teacher walked in with a packet full of paper and the room lightened back up again.

She gasped, "What have you done?!"

I looked at her, trying to think of what to say next, "I—I..."

"That's it, Mr. Boone! I'm calling the principle!" she stomped over to the phone at her desk and dialed.

"Wait!" I tried to tell her, "I didn't mean it!"

After she was finished talking on the phone, she slammed it back down. At a terrifying moment, she had a wicked grin on her face but it disappeared when she said, "Your father will be coming to picking you up. The principle said you're expelled for the rest of the school year."

I hung my head down in shame and gathered my books. This school was the only one I really liked in Nebraska, but now... I'm expelled.

End Flashback.

Setting my cup back on the nightstand, I curled into the bed sheets and tried to shake the words: I'm expelled. My shoulder started to heal within the cold, long night.

The next morning, I moved back into the Hermes cabin where there was hardly any space to sleep in. Beds in the infirmary were more comfortable than a sleeping bag anyway. At breakfast, Clayton, the guy that struck me with his arrow, apologized and said it was fair play. I agreed, shook hands, and he walked back to his table.

During daytime, I strangely felt weaker than I did at night. I didn't have an answer why and neither did Chiron or the rest of the campers. Though, I didn't have time to ask a few people since it was getting late for sword practice at the arena.

When I arrived, Percy, son of Poseidon, was already training some of the kids from the Hermes cabin. I took my seat in the stands while I watch one guy try to stab Percy but he blocked the guy's sword and sent it skittering across the snow-covered sand.

"Dead," he announced, "Try maintaining distance a bit better. Next!"

Three more people were fought and judged upon until I was next. I walked down and unsheathed the sword from my scabbard, ready to block if he attacked without warning.

"Hey Nathan," Percy greeted, "did you have any training before last night's Capture the Flag?"

"No," I replied, "and I was almost about to maim Annabeth before Clayton fired an arrow at me." I pointed to my left shoulder where the arrow had struck.

He raised his eyebrows, "Quick learner. Well, in a sword fight, the most important thing is to find the flow of the battle and attempt to bend it against the opponents will. Think you can handle that?"

I nodded as he uncapped his ballpoint pen and in half a second, it grew to a three-foot long celestial bronze sword. Percy slowly advanced, not showing any signs of threat yet. I instinctively raised my sword while trying to keep my elbows properly bent.

He made the first attack by sending a horizontal thrust to the left but I easily blocked it and resisted the temptation to become tense. What I'd learned from the last fighters was that their muscles seem to tense up and hard to maneuver their sword.

Being diagnosed was ADHD somehow kept me aware in combat. Normally, I couldn't multitask at all and my thoughts move faster than my brain could think. I went on the offensive and pressed Percy back with more force than I could ever imagine.

"Keep your guard up!" he told me, "The best fighters use a combination of offense and defense! Switching directly—" he blocked one of my uppercuts, "—to one of them can severely limit your ability!"

I did as he told me and let him take a chance at striking me. He approached cautiously with a wild gleam in his eye. Lowering my sword to fake weakness, Percy started a downward cut and at the last second, I twisted my blade around his and sent it airborne, flipping several three-sixties. Luckily, everyone dove out of the way while Percy's sword jammed itself between the limestones of the bleachers.

"Wow," he spoke, dumbfounded, "that was the best sword fighting I've ever experienced."

Don't ask me how I knew all this. This thought suddenly came to me and I actually thought I was going to do in my history class what Nathan did. Except there wasn't a fight and people kept rambling on pointless stuff and the teacher with two assistants were there.