(A/N): Didn't expect to get this up this fast, but I was pretty satisfied with what I've done. If there is anything that doesn't flow as smoothly as it should or if you just don't like a section, please tell me, so I can fix it. I hope I didn't make the part when he finds out about being a demigod too rushed or awkward. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Yeah, sure, of course I own it. I'm totally Rick Riordan in disguise.
At Fifth Ages' End
Ch. 2
Brrring! Screamed the bell for recess at Campbell. Students slammed books closed, scooped up their stuff and scrambled out the door.
I've never done that. Why bother? Recess is only fun if you've got friends, which I don't. The counselor has always asked me how I feel about that, and my answer hasn't wavered.
I like being alone.
Dodging bodies and books and flying pencils (they're quite common), I made my way to my locker. It's one of the few boys' lockers that look clean. And smell clean. And no, I'm not gay.
A gaggle of giggling girls slipped past me, engaging in their favorite past time: gossip. Girl cliques always make me feel like they're plotting a murder or bank heist. Is that just me?
In the world of Campbell High, I'm a loner. A very temperamental one. I don't like people in general, but my rules are perfectly simple; have nothing to do with me, and I'll refrain from glaring you into dust. It's a win-win situation.
With the crowd thinning out, I stuffed books into my locker and bolted it. I have the topmost locker, which is good because I breach six feet. I'm only a sophomore.
"Loser." I turned with a glower, thinking the voice was addressing me.
It belonged to Johnathan Hale. He's the school's senior footballer. And if I dislike people in general, I despise top dogs the most. Much too full of themselves.
This time his victim was someone I recognized; Stephen Kane, who sat in front of me in math and was more than a little nerdy sometimes. He was decent as people went.
That's me being nice there. It doesn't happen very often.
"Whatsa matter, nerd? Can't see?" Johnny leaned down and sneered at Stephen, who sprawled on the floor half-blind. His glasses were in Johnny's meaty hand.
My anger flared. Bullies.
"Get lost, Hale," I said.
When Johnny's barely functional mind realized who I was, he sneered some more. "Who's gonna make me, Dorman?"
"Just skip the backtalk and swipe at me, Hale," I advised. "Your brain won't be able to take much more, and I really, really want to get expelled this time. It's been three whole months."
Johnny snarled and obliged, dropping the glasses and advancing angrily. I waited.
He took a swipe and I dodged, positioning myself so I could see both him and his friends, who just as big as he was and still blinking confusedly. Wouldn't do either me or Stephen any good to leave my back uncovered.
"I see the orphan is a coward, too." I stiffened slightly. That was a very touchy subject.
"Hale, if you had a delusional mom, you would enjoy living without her too. But you don't, do you? You couldn't survive without your mommy kissing you goodnight."
Johnny's face reddened and he charged. Maybe I'd actually hit on the truth there.
I shifted my body to the left and rammed my right fist into Johnny's stomach, under his grabbing hands. He gasped. It's a pity no words can describe the hilarity of his face, so you'll never get how comical he looked. Trust me, it was one for the yearbook.
I pulled my fist back and shoved him into his oncoming servants. They stumbled like a six-legged drunkard and collapsed on the floor in a tangle of meaty limbs and empty heads.
My lips jerked in silent mirth. They looked like a drunken beetle.
Stephen Kane finally got up, scrambling to his feet and balancing his glasses on his thin nose.
"Thank you!" he said, taking my hand and shaking it fervently, evidently forgetting I didn't like people doing that. I blinked and worked my hand out of his grip. He was scrawnier up close. Did this guy even have meals?
If he'd ever lived with my mother, he would know that food wasn't something to be skimpy with.
Stephen wasn't very intimidated by my weirded-out stare. "That was amazing! Where did you learn how to do that?"
I blinked. "Let's just say Grandpa isn't an old man you'd want to pick a fight with."
"That's so cool!" He looked like he was about to start building a temple in my name. Not a good sign.
Just then, our biology teacher thought he had better take a look outside to see if the earlier commotion was anything serious, and stuck his head out the door.
His mouth dropped open when he took in the scene and he immediately looked at me. "Dorman!"
"Yeah, I know, sir," I replied straight-faced, although the sight of the drunken beetle nearly made me laugh. The teacher must have noticed.
"This is no laughing matter, young man. This is your third offence, and you've only been here three months! I need to speak to the principal about this." He disappeared down the hallway.
"Oh my God," Stephen said, horrified. "Oh my God." He didn't seem to realize I'd wanted to be kicked out of the school the moment I'd been enrolled in it.
After an hour of pointless discussion in the principal's office, I was expelled. It took them long enough. At least I got to see Johnny's mother crooning over him like an overgrown baby..
I called Grandpa and told him the 'bad' news, hardly able to keep from smiling. He was overjoyed. This school business hadn't been our idea. Mom had come up with it.
Grandpa was so happy, he let me drive. Although I was all set to take my driving test this weekend, Gramps thought it wise to wait before I took the Ferrari out for a daily spin.
Grandpa owns two, actually. One's gone on tour in Europe.
And just in case you are wondering, we live in a private estate with a real long driveway that takes forever to walk up. Running is much more fun.
Look, just because Grandpa is freaky rich from being an investor, doesn't mean I go around telling people. My childhood was spent living with dear delusional mom, anyway.
"Loosen up on the accelerator, it's a sports car. It doesn't need to be told to go fast." I grinned widely and obeyed. Grandpa watched me from shotgun and shook his head. "What in the world kept you? I thought you would never get down to breaking some idiot's neck in that place."
"Just wanted to make sure they got what they deserved," I told him. "Those people never guessed I could buy a house with my allowance." I snorted in derision.
"And it's going to be like that wherever you go, James," Grandpa told me quietly. "It's much better than the alternative."
"The fall-over-themselves-to-lick-your-sweaty-feet alternative? I should think. Do I take a left here?" Grandpa looked faintly amused.
"You should know." I gave a non-committal grunt and turned left smoothly.
I drove up the winding driveway, sliding into the garage with barely a squeak of wheels. As I got out of the car, a tingling feeling came over my arms. My skin glowed lightly. I glanced all around and saw a faint silver-gray eye above my head.
What the hell?
Grandpa came up, my bag in hand. "Good maneuverability! I might even decide to let you-" It was then he noticed the glowing. He gaped for a moment before catching himself, snapping into action. "Come," he said, hauling me by the arm.
He tumbled through the doorway, dragging me up the stairs and into my room to pull out a backpack, old and tattered. "Pack," he ordered.
When Grandpa starts talking in one-syllable, one-word sentences, no matter how confused you are, you follow his directions. I stuffed clothes, a sketchbook and a toothbrush into the pack. Grandpa was already in the car, the engine rumbling. He slammed the accelerator pedal down so viciously I nearly fell out.
"What's going on?" I asked. I gripped the seat as we swerved into the main road.
Grandfather looked strained. "I need you to listen to me, because I'm not going to say this again. Disregard the 'myth' in Greek mythology. Everything I taught you about it is as real as a slap in the face. The gods, the monsters, they all exist. And so do the heroes, the children of the gods." He gave me a quick glance, serious as he could be.
I looked at him, like, Grandpa you've gone senile, stop the car and go back, because that was exactly what I felt like saying right then, if I could've gotten my mouth to work.
"Don't look at me like that, young man. I'm not crazy. Your mum might've have done you a favor by being so completely stoned all the time if it kept the monsters off your scent. But that doesn't mean you disregard the claiming. Once your godly parent acknowledges you, you don't ignore them."
"I'm not Greek," I told him like I would have a young child.
"Humor me. ADHD and dyslexia put together are a formidable-and dangerous-indication of a half-blood. Wake up, Son of Morpheus."
"Grandpa-"
"I said humor me, James. You'll get solid proof soon enough. What we need to do now is to make sure you get the kind of proof that isn't going to kill you, at least straight off. Chiron will explain this in greater detail."
"Chiron? Isn't he the centaur that trained the greatest Greek heroes?"
"He's still training, James. He's been training for the last two thousand years."
It was after midnight when we got to Long Island Sound, New York. We stopped in the middle of a field growing strawberries. Why? I don't know, but as I've said, you don't question Grandpa in a crisis. He quickly explained that to get to this 'Camp Half-Blood', I'd have to sprint up the slope before us.
"What about you?" I asked. Grandpa gave the hillside a slightly wistful look.
"Mortals aren't allowed past the border. Now, scat!" I scrambled out the car and ran.
Barely halfway up the slope I heard a sound like many arrows being loosed in succession. "Down!" Grandpa yelled.
I dove for the ground and rolled, coming up on my feet shakily. Spikes, half a meter long, embedded themselves inches away as I spun around. Grandpa had got out from the car and was aiming a rifle at a monster, as in control and unruffled as ever.
"Back," he said menacingly. The monster, with a lean, angular man's face and a lion body, snarled but did not advance. It was standing at the foot of the hill.
"Grandpa!" I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just leave him here. This was Grandpa we were talking about.
"I'll see you soon, James. There's nothing you can do here. Go," Grandpa ordered. "Go!"
Slowly, reluctantly, I moved backwards up the slope. I glared at the monster-it fit the description of a manticore, I think-with all the desperation and anger I felt. It bared its teeth.
I reached the crest of the hill and the manticore sprang, its tail flicking. Spines imploded Grandpa's rifle, knocking him to the ground. I plunged into unconsciousness as spikes suddenly grew out of my right arm, the impact sending me down the other side of the hill.
