A/N: Before anything else, I would like to ask you guys to take a moment of silence and pray for all the victims of the shooting in New Town, Connecticut. The children who died in there didn't deserve what happened to them. They were too young and right now, I'm asking you to pray for them, that they'll find peace wherever they are.

Okay, now I'm going to answer you.

R3D NEBuLOS17Y: You just have to wait for the revelation. :D

Angel 5899: Annabeth and Percy just went through something right before Calypso arrived so no one can really blame her for being a bit paranoid.

Mexican Prodigy: Rest assured that it won't. Wise Girl's Seaweed Brain focused on Annabeth and Percy and their love story. This one's not a love story. It's an adventure. The focus is actually Lester but Percy and Annabeth will play important roles in the end. So will Calypso. Don;t worry about this story being similar to the other one because I won't make that mistake. And thank you. :D

Potterjay all the Way: Thank you for sticking up with me and reading this new story! :D

MysticWishes: Well, this whole chapter's written in Lester's POV so you'll get to know him a bit.

CimFan: Okay, I will read your story. And I'm thankful that you're still here. A loyal reader of mine, as always. Thanks. :D

rokureader180: Thank you and I didn't mean to keep you up half the night. And here's a present. Another update. Thank you. I hope your finals went well. :D

Disclaimer: I don't own the Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I'm not Rick Riordan. I'm just an AMATEUR writer. :D

"You're fighting till you're free,
Get down on your knees
Hoping someday you'll make it out
If you just believe
His hands are on your neck
Hearts fading out to chest
Well baby if you wait it out
You will see that

Someday things will be perfect
It will be worth it all this time
Stuck in the middle
I know things will get better
Hold it together."

-Stuck in the Middle by Boys Like Girls

WISE GIRL'S SEAWEED BRAIN 2.0:

DARKNESS ARISING
Chapter 2: HELLO, COLD WORLD

LESTER

For the sixteenth time that day, I was shoved against a locker and fell sprawling on the floor.

Nobody helped me, of course, as the guy who pushed me was Clark Hanes, the captain of the football team. He had friends all around and he, together with them, decided that I was their punching bag. If one student as much as helped me get up, they would add that person to their list.

In a way, I was glad that no one was standing up for me. The last thing I wanted was another person's pain in my conscience.

I picked up my books and stood up slowly. With head bowed, I went to where my locker was and out my stuffs back in, taking out the ones I'd need for the period after lunch. When done, I made my way to the cafeteria, ordered a ham sandwich and a can of soda and sat at the farthest table, away from the bickering mass that were the students of Christopher Columbus High school.

I was fourteen and a freshman. I know I was supposed to be an eighth grader but my teachers from middle school gave me this test to jump a grade. I passed the examination so here I was, trying to remained unnoticed and not be the freaky fourteen year-old freshman. It didn't work, of course. From the moment I set foot in this school, Clark spotted me and figured I was attending school just so he could push me around like a toy. I would've stopped attending school, if it was up to me, but it wasn't. I needed to finish high school, apply to some college – perhaps Stanford or Yale – and finish my studies. Education will be my ticket out of this personal piece of hell that was my life.

And education will also be my only way to help my Mom . . .

I bit into the sandwich and opened up the book that we were supposed to be reading for English class. It was To Kill a Mockingbird written by Harper Lee. I was halfway through it and thought it was really good. A rare gem.

I loved books, despite the fact that I was diagnosed with dyslexia and ADHD when I was four. It was a hard time for our family. My Mom was working as a waitress in a local restaurant and my Dad wasn't making much with his small food cart. He announced that he wouldn't spend a dime for my medication and therapy sessions. Of course he wouldn't; my Dad hated me the moment I was born.

My Mom, however, was the exact opposite of that. She was the nicest, kindest and most awesome person in the planet. She loved me and I loved her just as much. I knew, even back then, that she wouldn't be able to afford the necessary medicines that the doctor told that I needed, or the $200 per session of counseling, but what she lacked in the financial department, she made it up with being a mother. She took care of me and spent so much time trying to make me better. And I did. Because of her, I found courage to fight my condition and make something out of myself.

School was a huge challenge for me. The transition from a homebound kid to an actual student was rough but I told myself that if Mom believed in me enough to be normal, then I couldn't fail her.

So that was the story of my life, pretending and role-playing. I had to be strong, not for myself, but for my Mom. Everything I do, I do it for her.

My thoughts were interrupted when a commotion broke from the jocks' table. I looked up and saw Skylar Gray fighting with Clark. They were dating, which wasn't a surprise since Skylar was the head cheerleader, but unlike most, she was really nice. She wasn't snobbish and was totally kind. She even waved at me once. I could still remember that day. It was the 116th day of school; I was standing in front of my locker, looking at her talking to her friends. She suddenly turned her head to my direction and caught me staring at her. Instead of wincing in disgust, or glaring, she waved at me and smiled. I was stunned for a moment and even checked behind me if she that was meant for someone else. But no. I was alone and that smile and wave were meant for me. I smiled and waved back, blushing. Skylar laughed and turned back to talking to her friend.

Ever since then, I'd been waiting for the time when she would do that again.

Watching her with Clark was sad. He didn't deserve her. She deserved someone nice and someone who wouldn't cheat on her, like what Clark was doing.

My eyes widened as Skylar tried to walk away but Clark grabbed her arm. She jerked it away and her force threw her off balance. She fell to the floor, her things scattering everywhere.

I didn't know what I was thinking. I stood up and rushed to where Skylar was and helped her in picking up her things. She looked up at me gratefully.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Skylar nodded. "Yes." I handed her bag. "Thanks."

I smiled at her. Then I felt someone grab me by the scruff of my neck and I was lifted a few inches off the ground. Of course it was Clark.

"What do you think you're doing, dork?" he asked, his nostrils flaring.

I didn't know where I got the courage to say the next words. "Helping a girl you don't deserve," I said.

Students around me gasped in surprise. Clark, however, grew red in the face and, before I could shield myself, punched me on the nose and mouth. Pain instantly exploded from the lower part of my face. He dropped me and delivered a hard kick to my stomach. His boot was like stone, add to that the force he put in his kick and the wind was knocked out of me.

"Clark!" Skylar screamed. "Stop that!"

He didn't listen and kicked me again, this time hitting my chest. My eyes watered from the pain. My vision blurred as I felt another kick on my stomach. Clark drew his foot back to deliver another blow but before it could hit me, I caught his leg and pulled. Clark gave a surprised yell as his head hit the floor.

His friends were about to jump into action but Skylar stopped them when she stood in front of me. "Don't even think about it!"

Clark groaned and hit my nose with the heel of his hand, breaking it. Blood flowed from my nostrils. I sat back, clutching my face. "Clark, stop it right now!" Skylar screamed. But Clark wasn't to be stopped. He lunged at me. Or tried to. His movements seemed to slow down before my eyes, making me see what he was about to do. He lifted his right arm and punched me but I crossed my arms just in time, blocking his attack. Clark's punch was strong and I waited for the pain that didn't come. When I looked up, I saw Clark hugging his hand to his chest, howling in pain.

He tried to attack again but I was prepared this time. I drew my right foot back and kicked him on the chest. What happened next was beyond anyone else's explanation. Clark flew ten feet in the air and a few meters back. His back slammed against one of the columns inside the caf. Dust rained down on him as he sank to his butt on the floor, unconscious.

The silence that followed was deafening. I stared wide eyed at Clark's passed out form, wondering what just happened. Skylar was staring at me in awe, just as everyone was. As if in a trance, I stood up. Those who were close to me, even Clark's friends stepped back, afraid. I backed away from them to the exit just as the school principal came into the cafeteria.

That's when I ran.

I had no idea how long or how far, I just kept on running, not bothering to think where I was heading. I just stopped when I felt my lungs struggling to fill up with oxygen. I fell to my knees and, before I could stop it, started puking all over the road. The taste, together with the coppery flavor of my blood was foul.

I sat and pressed my back against the cold wall. I was in a dark alley with mice and every single nasty creature there is. I hugged my knees close to my chest and rocked myself forward and backward.

What did I do to deserve this kind of life? Was I a horrible person to live a life like this? A life that was a living hell?

Self-pity isn't going to help you. You have to be strong. Stand up and make people regret making fun of you. But don't do it in a bad way. Make them realize how wrong they are by making a name for yourself. Mom's voice made its way to my brain and I shook all the negative thoughts away. I couldn't think like that. If I started thinking negative, then I won't accomplish anything. I would just weaken myself.

I checked my wrist watch, that's when I realized what hurt Clark's hand. His knuckles must've hit my watch, cracking the glass. At the sight of my ruined watch, the tears that I had been holding back escaped. The watch was her gift for my fourteenth birthday last October 11th, a month before the disease hit and stole her health away.

I didn't even bother covering my face up. Nobody could see me. It was okay to show weakness as I was alone. I knew that I soon as I stepped out of the comfort of this disgusting alley, I would need to be strong again but right now, I didn't care. I let it all out. The anger, the pain, the frustrations . . . all of them.

My eyes soon were dried but red. I wiped the tears away from my cheeks and the dried blood from my nose and mouth. I tried to look as presentable as I could. Judging from the noise, I could tell that school was over and I needed to be in the convenience store a few blocks away from my apartment. I was working there as a cashier. I need the money for my Mom's medication.

When I was satisfied, I stood up and went out, bidding goodbye to my temporary friend, the dirty alley.

I kept my head bowed as I walked. I even covered the lower half of my face to cover up the bruises that were starting to show. What I couldn't hide was the limp in my walk. Every step I took sent waves of pain through my chest and stomach.

Eventually, I made it to the convenience store. I let myself in and was immediately greeted by a frowning Michael. He was Alaric's son, the store owner. He wasn't attending school and his father assigned him to watch the store while I was at school. Al was away, supervising the construction of his store's new branch. If I remembered correctly, it was opening today. Unlike his son, Al was nice. He was the closest thing to a father I had.

"About time you make it here," said Michael, tossing me my cap and shirt. "There's a party down the block I was invited to attend. I need to buy beers." With that, he left. No What happened to you? or Are you okay? Of course not. The only person who cared about my welfare was at home, bedridden and dying every passing day.

I sighed as I ducked under the cash register and changed. I checked my reflection in the mirror and saw that there was still dried blood on my upper lip. I took out a water bottle, wet it and then scrubbed it clean using the end of my school uniform, ignoring the pain.

When I was done, I stood up and started my shift. I had to work at least five hours a day, which meant I had to be here at least until after nine. I knew Mom needed me home but it was either work or die of starvation. My Dad spent his money on alcohol. He was a serious drunkard. If I was lucky, he would be asleep when I got home and won't try to make a living punching bag out of his son.

The day was slow. There weren't many customers, for which I was glad for. Some of them took a second glance when they saw my bruised face but, like I expected, nobody asked how I was doing.

It was half-past six when something good happened. The door opened and in came was Alaric himself. "Al!" I exclaimed in surprise, getting out of the cashier to greet him.

The smile on his face disappeared as soon as he saw me. "What the hell happened to you, kid?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. For a second, I savored in the feeling of having someone worrying about me. "Don't tell me it's nothing because it's not. It's that bastard Clark again, isn't it?"

I looked down.

Al placed a hand to my chin and made me look at him. "Hey, Lester." I met his eyes. The look he gave me made my eyes tear up again, but this time I didn't let them get out. No uses in making people feel sorry for me. "I will make sure he will pay."

"Don't Al, please," I said. "If you do something, I could get in trouble, too."

Al smirked. "If you're worried about Clark, I'm telling you not to he – "

"It's not that, Al," I said. "It's . . . I-I did something this noon."

Then of course I told him.

When I was done, I thought he would get mad at me but instead, he patted me approvingly on the shoulder. "About time you do that, kid," he said. "I mean, I don't tolerate fights but Clark has been beating you up for a long time. It's about time you stand up. If you can't count on anyone to protect you, you're going to have to do the deed yourself."

I nodded. Al laughed and patted me on the shoulder again and asked me how I was doing. I told him I was fine. I was lying, of course. My Mom was running out of her medicines and I needed to buy her some more soon. But my money still wasn't enough.

Al must've sensed it. "What is it, kid?" he asked.

I looked down. "Listen, Al," I said, my face burning. "I know you have helped me a lot of times before. Me and my Mom. And I totally appreciate that. I don't want to abuse your kindness but I kind of need . . . I mean, Mom's running low on her pills and I need to . . . I'd pay for it, I swear. You can charge me interest if you want to but right now I need – "

Al stopped me by laughing. He took out his wallet and handed me money bills. My eyes widened. They were close to two hundred dollars! I looked at him. "Al, I – "

"Take it, Lester," he insisted, placing the money on my hand. "You can pay me back when you have money but right now, I'm telling you to take it. I've included your salary."

I took the money hesitantly. "Thank you, Al. So much."

Al smiled at me, messing my hair. "Where's Michael, by the way?"

"He went to a party, I informed him.

Al shook his head. "I wish that my son is more like you." He smirked. "Tell you what, why don't you go home and buy those medicines for your Mom. I'll take over for you."

"Al, it's half-past six," I said. "I'm not supposed to get off until nine-fifteen. I told you – "

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I know you want to be there for your Mom and you need to buy her medicines. Don't think too much about what I'm doing. I'm your boss and I'm ordering you to go home and take care of your Mom."

I nodded, heading to the door. Before I could go out, however, I turned around and hugged Al. I need it. I needed to feel someone else's warmth. I needed feel like there was still someone out here who cared for me. I needed to feel not alone.

I broke away from Al, embarrassed. "Sorry," I whispered as I ran outside.

I was feeling light on my feet. I may have been beaten earlier but at least I got money to buy Mom's medicines. That's all that mattered to me.

I was a few buildings away from the drugstore when four guys in masks, stepped out of the dark, holding baseball bats. My heart thumped as I tried to sidestep. I heard the air whistling and I ducked, barely avoiding the bat.

I must have the most tragic fate. I mean, thousands of people in New York and these four found me? That's got not a coincidence. Someone's doing this. As realization dawned on me, I felt a knee on my stomach. I doubled over, catching my breath.

Four guys. Clark had four friends. These goons must be them. I was kicked on the back and I fell face-first to the road. Two of them pinned my arms behind my back as I felt a hand rummaging in my back pocket where my wallet was. I panicked as I felt the hand taking it out.

"Please, don't take that!" I pleaded. "You can hurt me but please don't take a way my money!"

"Sorry, kid," said one as the other three ran away.

I sat up and felt my back pocket, checking if they left some money in there. No such luck. My heart dropped. "No . . ." I buried my face in my hands. What was I supposed to do now?

"Lester?" I heard a voice ask. I looked up and saw Skylar Gray. "Oh, my God. What happened?" she asked.

"I was robbed," I said, my voice trembling. "Oh, God. My money . . ."

Skylar sat in front of me and rubbed my shoulder. "Shh," she said. "It's going to be okay."

"You don't understand," I said. "The money . . . I need it. My Mom needs it."

"For what?" she asked.

"For her medicines," I answered, standing up. "She needs it. She needs her medicine and that money . . . Al gave that to me and now I lost it. What am I supposed to do now? Mom needs it!"

"Okay, relax, Lester," she said. "Come on, we'll go to the drugstore and buy your Mom's medicines."

"No," I said. "I can't pay you. I owed that money to Al and I can't borrow some more from someone."

Skylar smiled and took my hand. "Who said I'll make you pay for it?"

Fifteen minutes later, we were walking out of the drugstore. On my hand was a bag of my Mom's medicine. I couldn't believe that Skylar Gray, the school's most popular and beautiful girl, just helped me and was even walking me home. I couldn't stop thanking her.

"Really, Lester; it's nothing," she said.

"You know my name?" I asked stupidly.

Skylar laughed. "Clearly," she said. "When you helped me today at lunch, I asked everyone for your name. Then one of them informed me that you work at the convenience store so I went there. Then your boss told me he let you out earlier than usual so I walked, hoping to catch up to you."

"Why?" I asked.

Skylar laughed. "I realized I haven't thanked you for helping me."

"You don't have to," I said, opening the door of our apartment. "I just did the right thing." I stepped inside and looked at Skylar. She looked uncertain. "Do you want to come in? I mean, our apartment isn't that big but if you want to . . ."

Skylar smiled and pushed me aside. "I thought you're not going to invite me in," she said, stepping inside the house. "Where are your parents?" she asked.

"My Dad's probably passed out somewhere," I said.

"What about your Mom?" Skylar asked.

I walked to where her room was and motioned for Skylar to follow. I opened the door quietly and stepped inside. Skylar went in after me. On the bed was my Mom, pale, thin and sickly.

"What happened to her?" asked Skylar.

I didn't take my eyes off of Mom when I answered. "She was diagnosed with kidney cancer."

[Next - Chapter 3: HISTORY REPEATING]