A.N.: So I was in the mood to write a from a bitch's point of view today. I started working on the next chapter of What to Expect When You're Expecting: Demigod Edition, but then I stopped because I wasn't really feeling the vibes. Screw writer's block. But the bigger news is… I FINISHED READING HOUSE OF HADES! It was SO, SO AMAZINGLY GOOD! Thank god Uncle Rick didn't kill Percy and Annabeth, because if he had, there would have been riots in the streets, no joke. I would be at the head, screaming and waving signs. So hopefully, he knows not to ever kill my favorite couple. And as for Leo and Calypso… I thought that was interesting, and I NEVER saw it coming. Like, ever. Maybe I'll do a fanfiction on the pairing in a little while. But I do really like Leyna, so, that's kind of conflicting. And Nico being gay? I just can't picture him like that. Not that there's anything wrong with it or anything, but I always pictured him like, in love with Thalia or Reyna or something obscure and unrequited. Not that this isn't unrequited and obscure, but I think you get my point. And if you haven't finished it yet…. KEEP ON READING AND FINISH IT FASTER! Anyways, enjoy!

Disclaimer: No, PJO belongs to Uncle Rick. Only he could make it as amazing as it is.

Three: Drew's Perspective

I stepped into the airport, not in the least bit relieved to be back in Jersey. It hadn't been a long flight, but the closer I'd gotten to seeing my dad, the more tense and irritable and bitchy I'd become. I was fairly certain the flight attendant was convinced I was some sort of spoiled rich girl. But I ignored it.

Carefully, my eyes surveyed the crowd of seats for my dad in the terminal. Not that I was all that eager to see him. I just wasn't eager to haul my three Louis Vuitton suitcases home all by myself.

I didn't restrain myself from sighing when I spotted him. He was lounging in one of the chairs near the window, his black slacks and gray button up neatly pressed and wrinkle free. His hair was it's normal dark black, his eyes the achingly familiar chocolate brown that I saw every time I looked in the mirror. Of course, he was Indonesian, with deeply tanned, smooth complexion and strong brows. He sat up tall and strong, his very presence demanding, dragging my mind back to the times he'd drilled me hour after hour, until my butt fell asleep on the wooden piano bench. I glanced down at myself. My make-up was done flawlessly, and the clothes I was wearing would probably make him wince. Which, of course, was the whole point. I was dressed in an ensemble of my favorite skin tight DKNY dark wash jeans with the studded pockets across the ass, an ember colored cashmere sweater that clung to my waist, exposed a slice of tanned stomach, and plunged at the neckline, and my favorite killer stiletto black ankle boots. I'm pretty sure the only reason Chiron let me bring them to camp was because they could certainly be counted as a lethal weapon. You never knew when you'd have to poke some monster's eye out.

Not that I wanted any business in poking eyes out, that is.

My heels clicked against the floor as I approached his seat. He looked up as I got closer, and a smile stretched across his face, a brief flash of disapproval in his eyes when he spotted my sweater. Shame it was my favorite. I doubted was really a genuine greeting. I didn't return the gesture.

"Drew," he said, standing up. "It's so nice to see you."

I pursed my lips and raised a manicured eyebrow skeptically. "The pleasure is all mine," I remarked drily. "Dad."

The smile weakened when hit with my cold resolve, and he nodded back, clearing his throat. "Well, let's go grab your luggage at the baggage claim."

I reluctantly followed him past the terminals, weaving through the crowd of harried travelers and airport officials. The bright colors and languages that passed me by led to the restless tingle of my ADHD acting up spreading through my body, causing my eyes to flick here and there. I wrestled with the urge to forget my anger towards my dad, and soon enough, it was stomped out, shoved to the back of my mind. After all, I'd had a lot of practice. You can't do your make-up as well as I do mine if you're easily distracted, let me tell you.

The baggage claim was packed with people talking in annoying Jersey accents, and I wrinkled my nose. I'd grown so accustomed to New Yorkers and Bostonians and Southerners that my hometown language sounded foreign and obnoxious to my ears. I wondered how people would react if I told them to, pretty please, shut the hell up in French. With charmspeak, they'd probably oblige with nothing more than a few wary glances cast my way. Without it… there would most likely be catfights. I mean, this is New Jersey. We get all kinds of people and drama here.

And don't lie and say that you don't know. I mean, come on, we all know everyone knows what Jerseylicious and Jersey Shore are.

Who says demigods don't watch TV again?

My Louis Vuitton's came round the bend and I motioned towards them. My Dad gave me a look before his resolve crumbled and he grudgingly grabbed them off the conveyor. I dragged one, while he dragged two. Of course, I stuck him with the bigger ones. Because I am a bitch, first and foremost, before I'm anyone's daughter.

Well, except Aphrodite's. I guess that the bitch part kind of comes with the territory, for the most part. Unless you're Piper McLean or Silena Beauregard. But that wasn't cracking the mold. That was breaking it entirely.

I could've broken the mold.

The million-drachma question was: do I wish I'd broken the mold?

Kept up with piano, not gotten sucked into the glitter and glamour of designer clothes, and kept my mouth clean of the trashy gossip it spread? Gotten good grades, and maybe been the daughter that would make Mom look twice at me?

Now, let's not ask silly questions. All this nostalgia and deep thinking is going to make me break out.

The ride back to Dad's apartment was silent.

Just the way I liked it between me and my dear Daddy.

After my luggage was hauled up the elevator and into my father's suite, I dragged it with me into my room. Or rather, the space that had been closed off and undecorated, permanently reserved as Drew's Room. I'm pretty positive the door hasn't been opened since he bought the apartment. Which was right after I'd moved to camp, permanently. After I'd told him I was done with performing and competing, and more importantly, him.

I guess parental issues were part of being a demigod. I mean, we all kind of harbor that anger and abandonment towards our godly parent before we know that we're halfbloods, and our missing parent is actually living out their immortal life on Olympus, and can't really pop in all to frequently thanks to ancient laws. And then, if you're really unlucky, you're like Thalia Grace, whose mom hated her, or maybe your mortal parent had remarried, and their new spouse was a complete pain in your ass. Or, if of the Fates were in a bad mood when they were spinning your life, you're like Leo Valdez, or the Stoll brothers, or countless others, and your mortal parent is dead.

Where do I fit in, exactly? Well, my dad is very much alive. And single, living out the bachelor life quite comfortably. In fact, that was one of the reasons why I'd moved to camp in the first place. He'd always tow around all these phony beautiful women who all wore the same fake, sympathetic smile when they looked at me, trying to convince me that they really cared. Little did they know, I could see right through them. I used to promise myself that I'd never be like them.

Funny how life works out, isn't it?

The room was blank, with a simple full bed with a white comforter and blinds hanging over the windows. I wrinkled my nose. That was going to have to change. Luckily for me, there was such thing as online shopping, and I was quite the professional. Because there was no way in Hades that I was taking a trip to IKEA with my dad, even if he had the time, which he probably didn't. He was probably going to be composing and directing some twenty something symphonies or whatever, and wouldn't have time.

Which really, is where we find the heart of the reason why I didn't want to come back and live with him for a year. Because even if he wanted to spend time with me, he didn't have time to spend with me. I would end up partying and wasting away the year, doing anything to piss him off, just so I could get shipped off back to camp. Whatever it took, I would do it. I'm Drew Tananka. When people put things past me is when they screw themselves over.

My dad had a habit of doing that. I wasn't that picture perfect prodigy of a daughter that he'd always wanted. And I didn't want to waste time pretending otherwise. Which led to his several rude reminders.

I sorted through my clothes and pulled out my silky nightie that I liked best. It still smelled like Cabin Ten, which was basically saying it still smelled like various designer perfumes. But to me, it smelled like home. I pulled it on, discarding my sweater and jeans on the floor, and after brushing my pearly whites, climbed into bed underneath the white comforter, trying not to think about the fact that I was starting school for the first time in six years in two days.

So, that was chapter three. I hope you enjoyed it. It took me a chunk of time to write since I kept getting sidetracked with background music, but I did it. Review, please, please, PLEASE, because I'd love to know what you think. I'm getting used to writing as a mean girl. It's actually kind of fun. And don't worry, her first day of high school will be spectacular in ways you'd never expect. Romance and drama are coming, I promise. Love you all!

Xoxo-NotsoSugarQueen