PJO Mortals Meet the Demigods With No Mist

Frederick Chase

I'm a mortal. A mortal who cannot escape the rumours of his fellow mortals. I cannot escape the rumours about the war. Rumours about my daughter, Annabeth Chase, was killed in action and she is gone. My precious flower. Sure, I mean, I can't just readily believe that since I just haven't heard from her for a while. Around a year of silence from my daughter and her friends. She hasn't sent me one of those owl delivered letters.

"Professor?" Michaela, one of the top students in this class I'm currently teaching, raised her hand in question and confusion. "You spaced out again." I'm a professor at West Point teaching about American History, but I'm currently situated in a History class in Archea High School in its second semester. In their curriculum, all students of the senior years are assigned to a class from A to E on a specific day of the week and for that whole day, they learn about History. I'm teaching Class E on the day of Friday, Class D on Thursdays, Class C on Wednesdays, and Class B on Tuesdays. Class A was a special class who takes a trip to West Point on Mondays. I don't lead that class since school work overflows here at Archea so I fulfil my duties here. Though, a fellow professor guides those students.

"Yes, I'm sorry about that. Where was I?" It turns out, it is harder to teach a bunch of seniors in the same age as Annabeth than a bunch of cadets whom you know are being built for protection.

"Alexander, Professor Chase," Michael, the twin brother of Michaela, replied. "Hamilton." Teachers in this school are always surprised with my presence. The two twins have wits that can destroy the entire premise of the school. They had to have guards watching those two but ever since I started teaching history in this school, it's been reduced to toilets blowing up and firecrackers being set off in the halls. Fridays were usually the most peaceful days since nothing was going to go wrong.

I nodded in gratitude. "Yes, so in your previous years, you have been taught that Alexander Hamilton is a founding father of our beloved country. As most of you would remember him as the guy on the ten dollar bill." All the students smiled knowing that I was going to do something none of the teachers would do for them. I allowed them to watch the whole musical about an hour ago and it was thirty minutes to lunch, so I prepared a bunch of blank sheets of paper to hand out. "Now you will all receive a blank paper where you can write, draw, or do anything of your choice about the musical we just watched. And please, no inappropriate business." I stared at them sternly and they all knew I was not joking.

I watched them grab a blank sheet of paper one by one from my desk. Slowly, time passed by and the bell for lunch rang and everyone gave a sigh of disappointment as they handed all their papers to me. In this school, teachers have a personal lounge but I prefer eating in the cafeteria. It will help lessen chaos.

I stared at the packed lunch my lovely wife prepared for me, but I didn't have any appetite. It's been a year since I've heard from Annabeth. I haven't been at my best, to say the least. I'm worried sick. Bobby and Matthew are in their eighth grade already and they rarely remember anything about Annabeth.

The last students who were left behind were Michael and Michaela who approached my table with their papers. They both had gloomy faces as they handed it to me. They were unusually silent as they left the room. I looked at their papers and saw a beautiful drawing depicting the war against Britain. It wasn't any regular stickman drawing. It was a sketch of the end of the war. Both parties were looking up in sadness. I looked at Michaela's paper and there, I saw a beautiful writing in calligraphy, The war ends here. I separated them from the rest of the class papers and stood up. "The war is finished," I sighed in sadness, "Annabeth!" I cried manly tears for my daughter. What hope is there for my daughter being a demigod in battle? I must've stayed that way for around five minutes because there was a knock on the classroom door and the door opened to a freshman with dark black hair and blue eyes. She looked vaguely familiar, but it seems we both don't know each other.