A.N.: Okay, so yeah, I'm updating. And it hasn't been that long, honestly. There's not a ton to say, except for the fact that this is the first time in forever that I don't have Algebra II homework, and its absolutely heavenly. Like, no joke. Anyways, enjoy!
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own PJO. It belongs to Rick Riordan, the author that pretty much earned a seat among the Olympians of literature.
Two: Drew's Perspective
The air had been sucked out of my lungs, and my brain struggled to grasp the concept of what he had said.
Mortal high school.
Mortal high school.
As in, me, Drew Tananka, attending high school with normal teenagers that didn't have a drop of ichor in their veins. Doing homework and studying instead of spreading gossip and checking my reflection in the mirror at camp.
I inhaled sharply, and reached out for the back of a chair nearby to steady myself. Figures. I mean, the one time my important composer daddy wants to talk to me is about school and grades. Not about me personally. Nope. He could never call me up on video chat or Iris Message and ask how I was doing.
Not that I'd tell him the truth if he did. I mean, what kind of dad wants to hear about how his daughter is everything he never wanted her to be. I'm a failure, in his eyes. A quitter. And it's been so long since I thought about those times that I don't even believe it was a shared dream I had abandoned. By now, my brain has altered it and shaped it to my liking. Instead, I'm just a talentless girl who talks shit about everyone else around her, can do make-up like a pro, and knows exactly what to wear on every occasion.
Because that's every father's dream.
That was a joke, in case you weren't laughing.
I would lie through a fake smile that I've long since perfected, and he'd believe every word of it, eating my charmspeak up like it was pancakes at a Sunday breakfast. Even if it wasn't that I was doing things he would've approved of.
And of course, he'd never find out that sometimes I still listened to classical music when I fell asleep, my iPod's volume on low to avoid any of my siblings hearing it. For all I know, they think I'm listening to Justin Bieber.
Which I'm not, by the way. He's hot, but not hot enough for me.
Compared to Will Solace, he's passable.
When I finally jerk back into reality and out of my reverie, I realize that Chiron's been saying my name for a minute now, and getting no response whatsoever.
"What? Sorry, I didn't catch that," I apologized, not really meaning it. And he probably knows that I don't mean it too. Under normal circumstances, I might use some charmspeak, but right now I'm in such a state of shock that I don't care.
"I just asked if you were ready to Iris Message him, that's all," he said, his eyes kind. A little bubble, microscopic in size, of guilt bubbles up in my stomach, but in seconds, it's been popped and I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear and smile.
"Yeah, that would be fabulous," I said. Chiron slides a drachma across his desk and I pick it up, heading down to the central green. Cabin Fourteen, the Iris Cabin, is admittedly gorgeous. Bright, but gorgeous all the same. It's made of some prism like material that gives of rays of color when the sun hits it, and the roof is snow white like the clouds. A gold plaque above the door reads: 14.
I knock impatiently, and before waiting for someone to answer, I step inside. To Hades with manners. Besides, everyone already knows I'm a bitch. And now is just one of those times were you can take advantage of acting like one, because no one expects you to act differently.
On the inside, there's rows of bunks in all different colors lining three of the walls. And on the fourth, there's four little chambers made of prisms that create rainbows in the wall, just for Iris Messages. Usually, you're supposed to have an Iris kid supervise you, but right now the cabin is empty.
Plus, I'm pretty sure I don't want anyone to be listening in on the conversation that's going to happen as soon as I toss the coin into one of the chambers.
I took a deep breath and gently throw the coin. It vanishes into one of the rainbows soundlessly, like slipping into a different dimension.
"Oh Iris, goddess of the rainbow, please accept my offering," I requested. "John Tananka, at 54June Avenue, Lakeville."
The mist shimmers, and an image the size of an old TV flickers into existence. It's my dad, at the table in our kitchen, eating some Thai leftovers, probably from last night. I can tell that they're from his favorite restaurant, the Red Dragon, just by looking at the boxes.
I clear my throat, silently telling myself that this isn't a big deal, and that my heart needs to stop pounding nervously in my chest. Anxiety is starting to sink in. And when the anxiety starts, the ADHD will kick in, and I won't be able to concentrate at all.
"Dad," I said loudly. His head jerked up abruptly, and his gaze flicked around the room before finding the IM.
"Drew," he says, his voice its usual calm deepness. "Chiron promised you would call."
"Yeah, he did. And it's not like you can expect otherwise, with the news I just got," I deadpan, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. And my heart winces a little inside, because rolling my eyes at my dad had become so second nature. There was a point in time, when I was younger and Dad was reluctant to let me go to camp, when we had been close. When I'd sit at his piano and watch him as he played with notes to try and see which ones fit together to form the tune he was looking for, to use in his newest piece.
But those days ended when I came to camp as a ten year old, when being with my dad and immersed in the music world had started to wear on me. That being a child prodigy and traveling was loosing its appeal, because once the shine of it all had worn off, the stress was eating away my love for playing.
In the end, it had left nothing but the bones, and my supposed talent, had starved on them.
When I arrived at camp, I was thrilled that for once, no one was asking me to memorize sheet music, clip my fingernails, or practice. I could be normal. Or what at least was normal for an Aphrodite girl. Which included wearing excessive amounts of make-up, throwing my image of appropriate dress out the window, and of course, spreading every rumor available and sinking my claws into whatever boy came my way.
"Look, I think it's a good idea," he began, but I cut him off.
"Good idea? What in Hades are you thinking, Dad? High school? I'm fine at camp. We've been over this dozens of times," I told him fiercely. I don't want to go to whatever school he wants to send me to. And I certainly do not want to go home.
"Drew, you've been at camp forever. I know you're fine there, but I never see you. And don't you miss the mortal world?" he pressed impatiently.
"I wasn't really under the impression that you wanted to see me," I muttered spitefully. "And no, I don't miss the mortal world."
"Well, you don't have a choice, Drew. I'm the parent here, and I give the orders and make the decisions. You're coming back next week. You're already enrolled in Lakeville High. Just give it a chance. I'm not saying you have to love it. Just keep an open mind. That's all I'm asking," he said finally, after a brief pause.
"Fine." And with that, I slashed my acrylic nails through the IM, the image dissipating immediately. But in reality, I was anything but fine.
My life was officially over.
Hello, mortal high school.
They'd better hope they're ready for Drew Tananka.
Okay, that was the second chapter. So, yeah, everyone's least favorite bitch will be shipped off to live in the mortal world with her dad. Any guesses as to what she was like before she became a walking talking Barbie doll? I'm not telling, so you'll have to wait and see. Anyways, please review, follow, favorite and whatnot, and if you have any constructive criticism, don't be shy. Writing can always use work, and I'd like to get some opinions, since I'm not used to writing from a mean girl's point of view. Thanks so much for reading! Love you all!
Xoxo-NotsoSugarQueen