Percy

My name is Percy. Percy is the sort of name, I think, that happens when a hippie who doesn't conform to gender standards marries a Greek mythology buff. They have a baby girl and decide that because Persephone is far too girly a name, I'd have to be called Percy, and that was that.

In case you were wondering, I don't hate my name. It's one of those things about yourself that you rarely consider in the everyday motions of life. My name is Percy and I couldn't do anything to change that, or at least for the moment, so I was perfectly content with the strange looks and moments of confusion on people's faces when they've been told what I call myself. That is, until today. 

Halloween, 2014, in the middle of an average neighborhood lined with average houses and average people. I included; My family did not tend to do much outside of what they were expected to do. Wake up, drop me off at school, go to work, come home, eat dinner, be happy. Or, at least.... normal. 

As an inspired and apparently artsy sixteen year old, I often found myself yawning over the doldrums of my life. Whether it be because I'd had to unload the dishwasher for the third time in a row, or because I was tired of eating the same apples over and over again, it hardly mattered. All I knew was that I was bored of myself and I was quite expectant for something to happen to me at any moment.  

So of course you can imagine my excitement when this Halloween rolled around. One night in three hundred and sixty-five that I could pretend to be something completely separate from who I was. And even better, as an avid self-proclaimed seamstress, I was often complimented on my remarkably detailed costumes. But the best part of all way that Halloween also fell on my birthday. I was seventeen today.

This year, I'd decided to create an outfit for myself resembling one of Dracula's daughters from that old vampire movie with Bela Lugosi. I'd thought myself quite clever to be pulling together a costume referencing such an old movie: in fact, what I thought was that I was very counter-culture, and that was cool. I took after my mother in that way. 

Finally the costume had been finished, all the pieces carefully sewn together. I'd even found several online tutorials for the hair and makeup, Basically, I was ready as I could ever be to put on that costume and march onto school grounds with as much confidence as I could muster, and hope I wasn't the only one who dressed up. 

"Percy, dear, you've twenty minutes to finish up." My mom said, her head peering through the door as she addressed me. I nodded my head enthusiastically and hastily dressed up, then dashing down the stairs and to the breakfast table. A hot plate of bacon and eggs that smelled suspiciously of garlic sat before me, with a travel mug of coffee off to the corner.

"Mom, I'm not sure how you expect me to eat this food with purple lipstick. It'll smudge everywhere." I whined sarcastically. Mother appeared from around the corner, a plate of her own breakfast in hand, hastily shoveling it down and speaking between mouthfuls.

"So eat up and reapply in the car. You need to stop with the wheedling, it's rather annoying." She replied. I sighed and pursed my lips, but decided I was too hungry to argue with the solution. If my pride had anything to say about it, I'd've starved, but there was no time for that. 

Suddenly I heard shrill barking as click-clacking noises resounded from the living room. The noise became exponentially louder as Oreo the fat chihuahua stumbled through the room, apparently smelling bacon. I rolled my eyes at him, wondering how on Earth it could be that any dog would so closely resemble a sausage. 

"Hey, Baby! Who's a hungry girl? You are! Yes, you're a hungry girl!" My mom exclaimed, tearing off an entire half of her bacon strip to lovingly toss at the dog. Oh sure, mom must'vee truly loved him if she thought bacon would improve his figure.