okay, I'm sorry guys! I've been doing alot of writing lately, and studying for the regional spelling bee...Arg. But here it is! Enjoy!

He was in third grade again.

He was on the playground; it was humid and cloudy. He remembered this. He tried to play with a group of boys kicking a ball around, but when he got close enough they gave him odd looks and slinked away. His heart sank. All he wanted to do was play—why was that so bad? What had he done?

With a sigh, he sat heavily in one of the damp concrete steps and watched gloomily, his head in hands, as the other kids laughed and had fun without him.

Suddenly, the back of his neck tingled, and without clear reason he lifted his head and looked to his left, to the far corner of the unfenced playground. A tall, imposing figure in a black trench coat and bowler hat was standing silently, his face shadowed but turned towards him. Trying to ignore the odd feeling he had, Percy turned his gaze back to the playground, figuring the guy didn't like to be stared at. He succeeded for about three minutes, and when he looked back up the man was closer– so close Percy could throw a chip of mulch and it would hit him. His mom had always told him to go to an adult if he felt scared of someone. Percy's spidey sense went nuts and he carefully got up, keeping his eyes on the black figure, and began to navigate slowly to the nearest teacher.

The man began to walk rapidly towards Percy.

Terror seized the little boy's stomach and he turned on heel and ran, sprinting to the nearest monitor— a sour faced woman named Mrs. Retchin. He grabbed her sleeve and she jumped and looked at him down her nose like he was a splotch of mud on her hideously flowered dress.

"Please, ma'am." He begged. "There's a man over there, and he's watching me. I don't think he's a teacher."

Mrs. Retchin's mouth puckered as she gazed to the spot where the man now stood— by the steps where Percy had been sitting. She shrugged and flapped her hand, shaking Percy off.

"It's nothing," She said in her nasally voice. "Go play."

Helpless, Percy just stuck close to the teacher. The man began to stalk closer, and Percy felt like his blood was lighting on fire. He was close, barely four feet away. Mrs. Retchin marched over to some fighting boys, leaving Percy alone as the man stomped closer– so close he court see under his hat. Percy was frozen as he stared into his eyes...no, was that—

"Hey!" Both Percy and the man flinched as a tall figure placed itself protectively in front of Percy. It was a tall, thin man who wore a blue hoodie and jeans. Percy was confused that he was barefoot. "What are you doing here?" His savior asked the black man coldly. "This is an elementary school. Unless you're a teacher, you aren't permitted to be here. And from what I saw, you were showing far too much attention to this boy. Now, leave, or I will call the police!"

Something like a menacing growl came from the dark man, but Percy watched, fascinated, as he slinked away until he vanished.

The blue-shirted man turned around to face Percy, concern swimming in his ice-blue eyes. "Are you alright?" He asked gently. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. Percy nodded mutely. He subconsciously noted some strange things about the man, from his snow-white hair to his bare feet, but most of his mind was preoccupied.

"He had one eye." Percy said, and his voice sounded hollow. The man gave a grim laugh.

"I hate it when they do." The man huffed. He observed the look on Percy's face– a combination of glum and shell-shocked. "What's your name?" He asked kindly.

"Percy," The child mumbled. "Percy Jackson."

"Jackson?" The man asked, looking delighted. "My name is Jackson Overland! How funny is that?" Despite his worry, Percy cracked a smile when a sudden realization slapped his cheek.

"Wait—that guy had one eye!" Percy tore his gaze from Jackson Overland and whipped around as if the trench-coated man was hiding in the bushes. He felt Jackson Overland squeeze his shoulder gently. His hands were surprisingly cold.

"Yeah, he did," his words sounded careful. "But...we need to keep that between us, okay?"

Percy turned to him. Jackson smiled. "I'll take care of it."

Percy nodded, reassured. "Thank you, Mr. Overland." He said politely. The man was so nice to understand him.

Jackson ruffled his hair. "Call me Jack, squirt!" He said cheerfully. "Oh, watch this!" Percy barely had time to blink before cold white powder exploded in his face. He yelped and stumbled back, only to feel cold hands grab his and pull him back up. Percy wiped his face.

"Snow?" He asked incredulously, staring first at the melting white ice on his hands and then at Jack.

"Yep!" Crowed Jack.

"How?"

"MAGIC!"

Laughing hysterically, Percy tackled Jack and they fell to the ground.

The scene changed.

Percy found himself as a fourth grader, gathering up his papers and pencils into his backpack and preparing to head home. He stood up and was just out the doors when a rough hand yanked his backpack off him, throwing him off balance. Shocked, Percy regained his footing and whirled around to see Derek Freakins leering at him, the strap of his beaten black backpack clenched in the bully's meaty fist. "Whoa, look at this crap," Derek sneered. "I think I need to put it out if it's misery." Percy watched in horror as the bigger boy judo-flipped it and slammed it into the ground.

"Stop!" Percy yelled, and tried to grab it back, but Derek just swung it out of his reach, grinning cruelly and continued to abuse the pavement. Percy fought the tears the were stinging behind his eyes. His backpack was only so worn because it was second hand– and that was all his mother could afford. They constantly struggled with money.

"Aw, is da witty baby boy cwying?" Simpered Derek. Percy, his chest burning, opened his mouth–

With one final throw, Percy's backpack hit the ground once more and split open at the seams, spilling his homework and folders all over the dingy pavement. It was too much for any sewing or stapling to fix; it was utterly broken.

Percy stared. What would his mom think?

She'd just have another thing to do— and it was all Derek's fault!

With a yell of anger, Percy lunged at Derek— when rough hands fisted in his hair and shirt and slammed him down on the pavement as if he was an old backpack too. He fell face down, his nose aching and head pounding as he tried to draw himself back up. But two heavy feet shoved down on his shoulders, banging his head back into the concrete. Bursts of black and gold mottled his vision, and when he came to the side of his face was pressed painfully onto the rough surface. He struggled to breathe through the gritty ground as Derek and his goons laughed somewhere miles above him.

Suddenly, the pressure on his body vanished and he sucked in a breath, hearing it reverberate, painfully loud, in his own eardrums. Gasping for air, he managed to lift his head shakily in time to see Derek's two henchmen thrown to the ground and Derek run off like a scared kitten. But before he could, Percy saw a hand wrap around Derek's collar and pull him close. He heard a hard, icy voice say,

"If you ever so much as bump his shoulder in the hallway, I will find you, and you'll regret you were ever born to make this world miserable."

The hand released Derek, who fled at the heels of his buddies. Percy found himself staring at someone's bare feet. "Hey, little man," Came the voice, suddenly gentle. "You okay?" Strong hands grasped his arms and pulled him to his feet. Percy looked up and saw a face, and for one crazy second her could have sworn he was looking into the face of Jackson Overland, the best substitute teacher ever. But this guy had to be only twelve or thirteen–far too young to be the man who had played with him a year ago, even if they did look identical.

"Y-yeah," Percy stuttered, still shaken by his ordeal. His cheek and nose stung from where they had scraped the pavement, his back ached from the stomping, and his knee was skinned and bleeding.

Concerned blue eyes swept over him. "Sorry, stupid question, because you're obviously not. Here." The boy shrugged off his backpack, which was silver and blue– it was a nice backpack, Percy thought wistfully– and pulled out a tube of what he guessed was antibacterial paste. "Stay still," the boy said firmly, and squeezed a drop of the substance on his fingertip–Percy was amazed at how it seemed to glow golden– and carefully applied it to the scrape on Percy's cheek. The boy's fingertips were surprisingly cold, yet the paste seemed to be alive with warmth. "Okay..." The boy muttered, concentrating, and dabbed another drop on Percy's nose with the tip of his finger. Percy suddenly felt something flow through him; something familiar and wonderful. Part of his head supplied the word, but the other part didn't believe it.

Magic.

Frozen, he dimly felt the boy apply the paste to his knee. The boy stood, and Percy looked down at his own leg. But instead of the golden paste, there was nothing. As in NOTHING. No paste...no cut. It was as if the substance had melted into his skin and regrown it in what would have normally taken days. Astounded, his hands flew up to his face—and he only felt smooth, unmarked skin where there had been injuries only seconds earlier.

"What IS that?" He gasped, staring up at the boy.

The boy grinned back at him, his blue eyes twinkling as if he was sharing a secret. He slipped the bottle back into his backpack. "A secret recipe," he chuckled. "A friend of mine is a pretty good nurse, and she lends me bottles of this stuff."

"...cool," was all Percy could say, still rubbing at his cheek as if the cut would reappear.

"Right?" They boy agreed cheerfully. "I'm Ja—uh, Jamie. My name's Jamie."

"I'm Percy," he replied, having noticed the odd skip in the Jamie's words but disregarding it.

Suddenly, Jamie looked up at the sky and sighed. "Well, I got to get to work. What day is it?"

"Monday," replied Percy, confused.

"Monday..." Jamie repeated slowly. He grinned down at Percy. "How would you feel about no school tomorrow?"

"I wish," Percy sighed.

"Well, it's gonna come true!" Jamie crowed before dashing off. Shocked, Percy just stared as Jamie barreled down the sidewalk, snatching something that looked like a staff that was leaning against a building.

"Wait!" Percy yelled desperately. "You forgot your backpack!" Indeed, the pack remained on the ground where it's owner had first taken it off. At these words, Jamie stopped and whipped around. He cupped his hands around his mouth.

"It's not mine, it's yours!"

What?

Before Percy could ask, Jamie had rounded the corner and vanished.

Dumbfounded, Percy stared after the disappeared boy for a moment longer before glancing at the backpack, which was still sitting innocently on the sidewalk. It really was a nice backpack– his favorite colors and it was big enough to hold all his stuff and it looked to be in really great shape. Still, he hesitated. This was New York. He wasn't stupid— he knew that strangers would try to leave you with their drugs or stolen items if they knew the cops were on their tail. Jamie–if that was even his real name–had just darted off like that. Running from cops, maybe? No school tomorrow? What if he meant Percy would be in jail? Percy looked around, but there were no signs of police cars or angry, suspicious persons.

He looked at backpack. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the handle, lifting it off the ground. It was light–like there was barely anything in it. At long last, he slipped it over his shoulders, but gathered his school supplies in his arms.

Of course, his mother lectured him about taking things from strangers as soon as he walked in the door–before he could even get a word out. But after close, careful inspection and listening to Percy describe (in detail) what the stranger had looked like at least four times, she finally relented and deemed it safe for him to use. All it contained was another container of the paste that Jamie had given him (which his mother confiscated) a blank journal, a couple of ballpoint pens, and a chocolate candy was gone within the day, but there was a reason that Percy was famous for losing pens at school. The odd thing was, after he seemed to have lost all his other writing utensils, there was always a pen in his pocket, somehow and without fail. He thought for a while that pens he had been given were magic, but that would be ridiculous...right? But anyway, that journal was instrumental in surviving through the school day, letting him sustain himself with doodles and daydreams...

—•—

Percy awoke with a start. Blinding light was filtering through the windows, effectively waking him up. It was early, he'd say—he had a while before breakfast. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling something gritty come off them. Oh, right. The sand stuff. Still drowsy, Percy blindly reached for the pouch until his hand found it and placed it on the stack of books that lay on the narrow shelf of the window.

He promptly fell out of his bunk when he realized what he just dreamed about.

Percy hissed with pain as he dropped stomach down and smacked the floor. It wasn't such a huge distance to fall, but it still hurt! He groaned once more and just lay where he fell, his mind twisting while he recovered. All those times...he tried to wrap his head around the fact that Mr. Overland and Jamie, probably the two most wonderful people he had ever met in his life, were actually his father. What did that even...

Percy just groaned again, thinking his head was beginning to ache with the very strain of his thought process. This was complicated thinking—more of Annabeth's thing than his.

Grunting, he clambered stiffly to his feet—and almost choked on air when he saw what lay across the room.

It was a backpack. And it was the backpack. Silver and blue, matching so well with the colors of the cabin, of Jack Frost. But how could it be here? He could have sworn—it still should be where he'd left it: hidden under his bed, slipped through a hole in the dark fabric on the bottom of his mattress. He couldn't afford to lose it and Smelly Gabe sold anything nice that he had. Shocked and hardly daring to believe it, Percy grabbed it and unzipped it frantically, gawking still when he saw what was inside—almost every square inch was packed with what Annabeth had called demigod essentials. Two jumbo rolls of duct tape, sharpies—but most importantly, it was stuffed with sweets. And blue sweets at that. Bright blue airheads, crinkling packages of sour punch straws, azure raspberry lollipops, and—was that blue chocolate?

Dumbfounded, Percy just sat down where he was and began to carefully unpack everything in the full bag.

After half an hour, he found himself nearly done. Spread around him on the floor were the duct tape rolls, ten sharpies, scotch tape, string, assorted comics, a fresh pair of jeans, a blue t-shirt with the same gilded G as on the pouch of the sleep/sand stuff, really nice dark blue tennis shoes, and several packs of every kind of Percy's favorite candy in blue...

He could have sworn he should have hit the bottom a long time ago, but more stuff kept coming out—was this thing bigger on the inside or something?—and he stared as he pulled out an oversized, worn, blue hoodie. It had obvious signs of wear—the points of the elbows were whitening and the strings of the hood were frayed, but was still in pretty good condition. He hesitated before carefully burying his nose in the soft fabric, slowly inhaling the odd smell—it's was cool and fresh, like ice on the wind. He carefully laid it out next to the shirt and reached in—and felt the very last item. A very small pouch, it again seemed to be. He extracted it from the depths of the backpack—it was tiny, looking big enough to about hold a single quarter. It, again, had the trademark silver G stitched in the center. Percy tugged it open without hesitation and turned it upside down—

A small ring fell into his palm.

It was pale and white, shining like the moon. It almost seemed to be cut of of some sort of rock—the texture was rough and uneven, yet it was small and thin enough to appear as a normal ring. How did it not break?

Curious, Percy slipped it onto his middle right finger—

Everything around him seemed to twist and zoom at the same time. The colors around him brightened painfully, making his head ache horrible. Everything was beautifully yet awfully vivid and sharp—he could see every groove in the formerly flawless wood flooring in painstaking detail, he could see every single dust mote that danced in the air—in his peripheral he heard something, like someone was suddenly muttering unintelligible words in his ear—images flashed in his head—the Athena kids rising early, bleary eyed and wild haired, taking time to read or get ready for the day—

Percy gasped and yanked the ring off his finger, his heart pounding. As soon as the loop of strange rock was no longer encircling his skin everything suddenly receded, the noises blissfully gone...and the wood floor flawless once again. Still, a sort of blind panic seized Percy's gut, and without thinking he stumbled out the door of his cabin, not feeling the dawn chill, and peered wildly around the still, silent camp. A thin layer of mist carpeted the emerald grass, but Percy could still see Athena's cabin, a few down from his own.

After a moments hesitation, Percy sprinted across the dewy grass and stopped just in front of the gray door, straining his ears. If he held his breath and was absolutely still, he could hear the faintest mutters—the whispers and grunts of Athena's kids as they rose early. But he was nearly pressing his ear to the door and could hardly hear it. How had he detected this—and even seen it—in the middle of his stone walled cabin?

At a loss, Percy darted back to his own cabin, hoping that he hadn't been seen. He slipped into the welcome coolness, shutting the door behind him, and flopping down on the floor, taking the ring out of his pocket and staring at it. What did it do?

Knock knock.

Percy let out an audible yelp as someone knocked softly on his door.

"Come on, Frosty," said a muffled, annoyed voice. "I know you're in there."

Apprehensive, Percy tentatively opened the door a crack to see Annabeth standing there, her arms crossed and face frowning.

"What?" He asked tersely.

She glanced over her shoulder before shoving unceremoniously through the door and shutting it quickly behind her, her eyes blazing. Before Percy could even feel shocked, words flew out of her mouth. "Okay. I've been thinking about it all night, and I think I have some answers for you."

Her bright gray eyes swept over the disarray of items before her—Percy's new belongings strewn about the ground—and bit her lip before saying, a bit slowly, "And...I think I had a dream about your Dad."

Okay, okay! I'm sorry! I need your reviews guys! Please? Thanks! You guys rock!