"Icarus Friedman, are you listening to me!"

The high pitched voice jolted my body awake, my ears ringing from the sudden loud noise. Although my eyes opened, I kept my head on the desk, enveloped in the makeshift cocoon comprised of my arms and partly my hoodie. I was frozen, hoping that if I didn't move Mrs. Fielder would either go back to teaching or think I was dead. It was a rather unrealistic thought come to think of it, but that should show how horrible spending a three hour detention with her would be, you were practically praying for a miracle to get out of one.

The snickers around the room grew once I was pelted with something on the head, probably the usual- an eraser. Mrs. Fielder may not have been particularly good at teaching, but man did she have good aim. Supposedly she had played softball when she was younger and although you would scoff at anyone her size being athletic, the stinging pain was confirming the possibility. Regardless of how obvious it had become that I was awake from my slight tremors of embarrassment and anxiousness, I decided not to look up.

When I heard her heels against the floor, slow and methodical, each one louder than the last, click, click, click, click, I gulped. I felt her swollen finger and sharp nail press against my shoulder.

"Mr. Friedman, I suggest you stop this little act before you get yourself another detention." A couple of ooo's came from the other kids.

I groaned and shifted my head to the side, resting my cheek on the warm, moist spot where I had been breathing. My arms dropped away and sunlight from the windows pierced into my eyes; I looked up at Mrs. Fielder's pudgy face, her stiff, product filled, curly brown hair shaking along with her head. She looked at me with full contempt and said, "3 o'clock sharp Friedman. You're lucky I'm feeling generous and not sending you to the headmasters office today, despite this being the third time you fall asleep in class this week."

Mrs. Fielder began walking to the board, straightening her black business skirt and jacket back to perfection. I brushed my hand through my curly brown hair as I finally lifted my head, making sure to look directly ahead as to avoid the stares of anybody in my classroom. I was ready for the day to be over but it was only third period, school wouldn't end for hours.

I honestly can't be blamed for falling asleep in Mrs. Fielder's class, it's just not my fault. She teaches history but makes it about as interesting as a bag of bricks. I'm pretty sure that she gets bored from her own lessons, it would explain why the only time her voice changes at all is when she decides to yell at somebody, usually me.

It doesn't help that I can barely pay attention in class even when I'm awake, my dyslexia practically makes it impossible for me to read what's on the board and my ADHD basically guarantees I can't sit still long enough to read anyway. I've taken plenty of medication in an attempt to control the two, but it hasn't worked the last five years I've been trying, I've basically accepted I'll be like this for the rest of my life. That may seem a little pessimistic for a fifteen year old, but that's only because you haven't experienced what I have.

I stared at the board and began zoning out again, hearing Mrs. Fielder drone on and on about something that had to do with United States colonization. I started thinking about my after school detention and slumped my shoulders at my expected punishment. Mrs. Fielder held the philosophy that all bad behavior could be fixed with enough, "encouragement," as she liked to call it. In reality that just meant that I would be writing, "I am sorry Mrs. Fielder," right up until my arms felt like jelly (in my defense the board is pretty big), then I would erase it and go again.

If there was one thing I could count on though was that Sam would be there, Sam was always there, for one reason or another; seemingly every time I had detention with Mrs. Fielder, so did he. Sam was a pretty geeky kid and that's probably one of the reasons we got along so well. He had those goofy circular glasses that people in Harry Potter cosplays wore, curly brown hair that matched his skin, and a million freckles on his face. While not a physical trait, I think it's worth mentioning that Sam usually smells terrible, something I definitely had to get used to over the course of the year. Even though it was distracting at first, I didn't want to hurt his feelings and mention it to him directly. Sam was the only other kid in Johnson Academy that didn't live in a mansion, which let me know we were in a similar boat financially.

My family didn't have the most money. I lived with my foster parent, a guy in his late fifties named Jack who pretty much did nothing all day but sit on the couch and watch game shows. He had been forced to retire a couple of years ago after falling off a faulty ladder at his construction job with Dare International. Although it would've been easy to sue, we just didn't have the money to afford any sort of lawyer, so Jack was forced to sign a contract saying he wouldn't do anything "unnecessary" to the company in the future and in exchange he was given some hush money. For the past few years, we had been living off of that, the rather small amount of retirement money that Jack was allowed to collect, and the tiny bit I made with summer jobs. It was tough sometimes knowing that I was fifty percent of the poor population at Johnson.

Basically ninety nine percent of kids who came here were spoiled rich brats who were too much of a burden to their busy parents to be kept around; long story short, they didn't appreciate some poor kid existing amongst them. The one thing I appreciated about Jack is that he spent the small amount of money we did have to give me a proper education, "it's an investment Icarus, an investment, you go to school and you can really make something of yourself, you know." The gleam in his eyes would always tell me that he was daydreaming about my name in the news, a premier businessman of the world, running a corporation like Dare International probably, not as crooked though. I always had to hold myself back from telling him that I was more likely to be on the news for being the only student to actually try and still fail every class than I was for that.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the sharp ringing of the bell and began packing up my things in autopilot mode.

"Don't forget the homework, I want a color coded map of the thirteen colonies tomorrow," Mrs. Fielder shouted above all the shuffling and talking.

I veered my head from her direction as I walked from the second row of the classroom to the back, picking up my stride until I practically ran out of the doorway. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, another class down, I told myself. That's basically how I got through the day, counting down every class, every hour, every minute, sometimes even every second when it really mattered. The only class I wish was longer was my next class, biology, especially since we were learning about plants.

I rushed through the crowded dark brown hallways of the academy, walking in a straight line out of Mrs. Fielder's room before making a left at a small t-shaped intersection that connected each wing of the school. I went towards my blood-red locker which was in the A-Wing, relatively close to Mrs. Fielder's room. I punched in my locker code and was rewarded with a small beep. I took off the hoodie I used for Mrs. Fielder's class, who kept her room notoriously cold, and grabbed my green biology textbook. I could barely contain my excitement as I started semi skipping to 's classroom.

I was the first to arrive to class, quickly taking my spot in the front and center of the room. I gave Ms. Wong a customary greeting as I walked past her desk to which she responded with a smile. When I tell you that she was the best teacher in the world, I mean it. Ms. Wong always tried to make class interesting with activities and games, barely gave any homework, and was a super lenient grader. It was the only class I had done well in throughout the entire year.

As more students began walking in one by one, I saw the only person I despised more than Mrs. Fielder at Johnson Academy- Marcus Johnson. Yes, Johnson. Marcus is a junior and part of the family that had originally founded the school and so he figured he was some kind of big hotshot and all. He takes practically every opportunity he has to berate and make fun of me, something I'm not looking forward to now that he's back from vacation. You might be wondering who takes vacations with only a couple weeks of school left but that's exactly the Marcus Johnson thing to do.

The bell rang, pulling me out of a small daydream of what I would say to Marcus if he couldn't pummel me immediately after. I watched him smugly sit in the back of the room, not a single book on his desk, not even a backpack.

Ms. Wong stood up in front of the room, "Alright everyone, today we're going to spend the first half of class continuing our talk about plant growth and development and afterwards you'll get into your groups and document your own plant's progress."

Ms. Wong spent the next half hour scrolling through powerpoint slides, showing us pictures, videos, and posing questions to the class before finally letting us do what I had been waiting for all day.

"Well, that's all I have for today's lesson, you guys can spend the rest of class working on your projects. Marcus, can I speak to you for a second."

I bolted out of my seat, walking to the window sill and grabbing the plastic cup with the tallest, greenest, healthiest looking plant in the whole class. I placed the cup on the nearest lab table and got as close to the plant as possible, inspecting every inch of it to make sure nothing had happened to it overnight.

Now, I know what you're thinking, it's just a basic green plant in biology class, what's all the fuss about. The fuss comes down to this relatively small, insignificant, glorified piece of grass being the only thing I was any good at. When I touched anything else with my hands, I was practically guaranteed to fail, but when I felt the smooth stem of this plant or the soft fragility of its leaves, it seemed like I was destined to succeed. Here, in this room, I was the best.

"Hey dickwad."

A tall figure came into view on the other side of the table, marring the beauty of my handiwork. I looked up and wasn't surprised to see Marcus there, a smile on his face that let me know he was ready to ruin my day.

"What do you want Marcus."

He sat down, still smiling, "you wouldn't believe it, but we're lab partners! Seeing as you chose to work alone and all the other groups are full, it looks like its me and you."

I felt the heat rising to my head as I heard him talk with his fake enthusiasm. He was making it seem as though he and I were best friends, as if I hadn't once had wet hair from dunks in the toilets or bruises from his punches.

He must've taken enjoyment from the look on my face, reveling in his ability to bully me. "Here's the deal, because I'm a nice guy, you can do all of the work and if, if you do a good job, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the school year big guy." He reached over, patting my shoulder before turning around and talking to a group of girls who were working on their project.

In that moment I wanted so desperately to get up and punch him right in his smug face, to wipe the happiness out of his eyes and to remind him that he was also just a dumb kid who only amounted to anything because he was lucky. People like that got on my goddamn nerves, thinking they're better than everyone because of a name or a position they have. Some people are born into the world and handed everything, never having to work for anything, and Marcus, Marcus basically embodied what it was to be a stuck-up ass.

Even though I felt ashamed by the way I let him talk to me, he was older and too much bigger and stronger than I was for me to pick a fight with him. I wasn't that stupid. Besides, it wouldn't really solve how I felt; what bothered me more than being talked down to was the general feeling of relief and happiness at the deal proposed by Marcus. The fact I felt any bit thankful about not being bullied in exchange for being taken advantage of almost ruined my day, but I would later find out that Marcus would be the least of my worries.

I walked towards the lunch room door, the sound of laughter, screaming, and fighting exploding from the doorway and into the hall. I was more than ready for this break where I could eat somewhat peacefully and talk to Sam.

As I entered the large square room, I scanned the various round tables for brown curly hair that resembled a messier version of mine. The sea of black slacks/skirts and white dress shirts made it difficult to find him but after a couple of seconds, I spotted him sitting alone all the way in the back of the lunch room.

I sped off towards him, trying not to bump into anyone and dodging various pieces of thrown food intended for people around me. The kids in this school were truly the closest thing to animals you could get to in a civilized setting.

When I got to Sam's table, I tapped him on his shoulder, causing him to look up from his music sheet, his brown eyes briefly showing fear before morphing into a gleaming stare of happiness.

"Oh, what's up dude," Sam said while he reached up for a fist bump.

I gladly obliged and responded with a fist of my own, "you know how it is, go to class, get detention, go to class, get shit on by Marcus." The cheery tone with which I described my day made both Sam and I chuckle for a second.

"Ah, but of course, a beautiful way to start the day," Sam said as he put away his music folder and took his tin lunch box out of his black, ripped up backpack. "Mrs. Fuddr agin?"

His mouth was half full with strawberries as he spoke, making him barely understandable. "Dude, chew your food before you talk, I can barely understand you," I said as I shook my head at his messiness.

He responded with a sheepish smile, "sorry, sorry, sorry," he swallowed, "Mrs. Fielder again?"

"Who else?" I responded, slightly annoyed by the idea she gave me detention for what could be the millionth time this year. I began eating the ham and cheese sandwich I had packed.

"You know, on the bright side, at least we'll have detention together yet again!"

I looked at him with disbelief on my face, "how is it that you get detention every single time I do? Scratch that, how is it you get detention at all?"

You'd understand why I was so confused if you knew the type of kid Sam was. He was quiet and kept to himself, having exactly zero friends besides me in the entire school. Sam just minded his own business, did all of his work, and studied sheet music for his flute, I couldn't imagine him ever talking back to the teacher or doing anything that would get him in trouble. He was just too nice and innocent for that.

Sam wiped his mouth with a napkin and stared at me intensely, "you know Icarus, just because I don't talk much doesn't mean deep down I'm not meaner and crazier than you think. Quite frankly, you don't know how much I'm capable of."

I looked at Sam, my eyes wide open, a piece of bread halfway out of my mouth. Neither of us spoke for a moment as he continued to look directly at me and I continued to look at him.

I couldn't help myself any longer, I broke into laughter, Sam quickly following suit, dropping his head on the table at the silliness of his joke.

"Yeah, okay Sam; you can't even keep a straight face when you say that."

"Alright, what do you want me to say, teachers have it out for me just like Mrs. Fielder has it out for you," Sam said as he wiped a tear of laughter from his eye, "besides, please don't tell me that you think I come to detention with you willingly, because I'll have to call Jack and let him know that you've actually gone crazy on us." He stared at me with a raised eyebrow and a skeptical face.

"I don't think you're that desperate to hang out with me so no, no need to call Jack," I said with a smile, watching Sam as he realized that I'd taken a jab at his lack of friends.

"Real funny Icarus, honestly you might have a future in comedy, if we get you a big round red nose and some makeup, who knows how far you'll get!"

"Touche, touche," I said with a laugh.

The rest of lunch continued in a similar fashion, with me and Sam slinging jokes back and forth, talking about our varying levels of misfortune, and thoroughly enjoying each others company. We had agreed to meet at my locker in the A-Wing before going to the lunch room for detention. So many kids at Johnson get detention that they actually have to use the lunch room because using a normal sized room wouldn't fit the couple dozen kids.

I was leaning against the metal wall, scanning the hallway back and forth for Sam. The school was mostly quiet, a lot of the students had already gone home in one of the buses but every now and then you would hear a laugh or a shout that let you know some stragglers were about.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Fielder walk to the center of the intersection of the school, her heels surprisingly quiet. She turned her head to the left, immediately spotting me and meeting my eyes.

"Icarus. Its 3:30, you should've been at detention by now," she snarled.

"Yes ma'am I'm on my way there right now, I was just waiting for Sam." I responded, hoping not to piss her off. "I'll just meet him there."

I began walking towards the lunch room and when I passed Mrs. Fielder, her pudgy hand grabbed my shoulder, "that's not the way to detention Icarus."

As weird as it sounds, it felt as though Mrs. Fielder was digging claws into my shoulder. The way she grabbed me sent a sharp pain through my body. "What do you mean? I'm going to the lunch ro-,"

"Detention is in my room today, boy," she muttered as she pulled me in the other direction, shoving me slightly towards her room.

I tentatively began walking forward, this hadn't been the first time that Mrs. Fielder had decided to pull me out of mass detention in order to deal out her personal punishment but today felt different. Don't tell me I'm going to have to spend even more time than usual writing on the board, I thought to myself. This was going to be terrible, especially without Sam.

I entered the room and immediately the hairs on my arms and legs stood up and goose bumps spread throughout my body. It was even colder now than earlier in the day. I shivered as I walked deeper into the room, moving towards the board and the markers.

"The usual, Mrs. Fielder?"

"Yes, you can begin, I'll let you know when to stop."

I picked up the green marker and slowly began to write the words: I'M SORRY MRS. FIELDER.

After about fifteen minutes I could feel my right arm getting seriously tired. "Mrs. Fielder do you think it'll be much longer?" No response. "Mrs. Fielder?"

The voice that answered was high pitched and raspy, "you know Icarus, ever since you walked into this room I've been dying to deal with you. All those times I called you to detention that stupid satyr would come, watching me, ready to let those idiots at Camp Half-Blood know that I was indeed a fury. But now Icarus, now, you're alone, you weak, little brat!"

Before I could respond, the sound of nails on the white board erupted through the room, piercing through my ears. I placed my hands on the sides of my head, dropping the marker. I turned to my right and what I saw… what I saw wasn't Mrs. Fielder… it wasn't even human. While the monster was shaped the same, her eyes were completely black, her hands had morphed into talons, her teeth into yellow daggers, and her skin into something resembling shriveled leather. From her back sprouted two wings, crunching and snapping as they stretched out into their full glory.

As I watched her transformation, I could only do one thing- stare.

"Today Icarus, today you'll learn your very first lesson on what it is to be a half-blood. The word of the day? Death." Her cackling laugh filled the room as I fell backwards, shuffling away from her as fast as I could. I didn't understand what was going on, who was this, no, what was this. Did she say a fury? Half-Blood? I had heard the words before but couldn't pinpoint what they meant or where they came from. Either way I had bigger problems than lacking vocabulary.

The figure sauntered towards me, looking down at me, her massive talons on display as she lifted her arm into the air, ready to rip me to shreds. I stared at her, frozen, unwillingly accepting my demise, accepting that this was it, I would die to my stupid history teacher just weeks before I never had to see her again. I would die with one friend, no girlfriend, no accomplishments, nothing to show that I had even lived but what would be leftover from my body.

"Prepare to die!" She said, her lips curling into a wicked smile.

Suddenly, the door to the room was ripped off of its hinges and slammed into Mrs. Fielder.

"Get away from him!" I recognized that voice anywhere. Sam.

I looked towards the entrance of the room and saw that Sam was walking towards us, a slight hop to his step. "Get up Icarus, you have to get out, you have to get to Jack, you have to get him to take you to Camp Half-Blood, go!"

I stared at Sam in disbelief. Everything was happening too quickly but I understood that Sam had more control of the situation than I would ever have and decided that I had to listen to him. I heard Mrs. Fielder stir, recovering from the force of the wooden door slamming into her.

I tried to think of something to say, anything to say to Sam for saving me but all I could come up with was, "good fucking luck, dude." I pushed past him and started sprinting as fast as I could. I momentarily paused at the doorway, looking back as I saw Mrs. Fielder stand to her full height and raise her arms to strike Sam.

Without wasting a moment, Sam pulled a set of reed pipes out of his pocket and began to blow a tune I had never heard him play on the flute before. All of a sudden Mrs. Fielder froze and began shuddering. It seemed she was attempting to resist whatever it was that Sam was doing but after a few seconds, she couldn't help herself anymore and started… breakdancing? Honestly, if I wasn't so terribly horrified by the situation, I would've burst out laughing. But instead, I took one last look at Sam, his eyes meeting mine, seemingly telling me one last time, "go." Sam reached into his pocket and threw a card at me, I watched as it folded itself midair into a paper airplane and glided directly to me.

I caught it and ran.

I went flying down the hallways, passing my locker and straight towards the A-Wing exit. I busted through the doorway and ran as fast as I could towards one of the school buses that had just closed its doors.

"Wait! Wait!" I shouted as I saw that the driver was getting ready to leave. Thankfully he looked up and saw me, a kid frantically waving his hands in the air and screaming. He stopped the bus and once again opened the door.

I walked up the steps, steadying myself with the railing, practically spitting with every breath from how hard I was breathing. The bus driver looked at me, his eyes reflecting confusion, before saying, "these kids are crazy," and closing the door.

I found my way to an empty seat and collapsed, ignoring the stares of the other kids on the bus. I had to make it home, I had to, I'd be safe there. I don't know what I had just witnessed but it must've been a dream, I must really be crazy like Sam had said. I need help, I need anything, I need Jack.

Authors Note

Hello everyone, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. I hope to explore the powers and adventures of lesser known gods through our main character Icarus as he attempts to make his name against other very important demigods. I feel children of Dionysus have a lot of potential for comedy, romance, and great action scenes that we'll see play out together as we closely follow the Sea of Monsters book. Please review, upvote, and favorite if you appreciate this labor of love!

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