Chapter 5

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"And over here Is the Aphrodite cabin" explained a mellow Annabeth.

After some explaining (convincing that you wasn't going insane) and introductions (except for Leo who was still unconscious thanks to you), Chiron had set me off with Annabeth for an official tour around camp. Since, well, Leo was still obviously recovering from the beat-down. He kept muttering something like 'I'll never hear the end of it' or something like that, in his sleep. You felt incredibly guilty, seeing as the boy was doing nothing wrong, and got a bloody nose for no reason other than waking you up after you fell and knocked yourself out on the flat, wooden floor.
   
You, truly, didn't know where those agressive actions came from. Because, quite honestly, you had the grace of a toddler and have never in your life have you taken self-defense classes.
Poor boy.

Poor hot boy.

Shut up, hormones.

You mini mind argument was interrupted when an incredibly strong smell hit you senses like a brick.

"Oh dear Zeuz! What the heck is that smell!?" Yes, you had heard the other campers use the Greek gods instead of the other prefered words. So you just went along with it.

You gagged, furiously fanning your face in hopes of fresh hair.

"Sorry, we get that reaction from most of our newcomers, it's the Aphrodite cabin, you get used to it" Annabeth explained, who in fact was also fanning the air in front of her.

"Aphrodite cabin? Were supermodels go to die?"
Annabeth laughed, a look of nostalgia flashing over her features. Forgetting about fresh air, you soon joined in. It came to a point were you both had to hold on to each other for support.
After you both cought your breath (and were a good distance away from the Aphrodite cabin) Annabeth smiled, as if she was remembering some inside joke.

"We get that comment a lot, belive me, you're not the first." She said, fondly, and started to take the lead again to guide you through the (oddly) sparse campgrounds.
Taking a notice of this, you spoke up on the fact that there weren't that many kids around.

"So what's the deal, are there just not that many demigods to begin with?" You questioned her, finding it odd that if that were the case, why the camp would have to be such a large place. Hearing this, Annabeth raised her eyebrows, a hint of somber amusement and something else(?) in her eyes.

"Oh no, of course not. Most kids go home for the school year, since many have a parent to go home to."

~

After the tour (bonding time) was over, Annabeth checked her watch.

"Oh, It's already dinner time. We should head over to the dining hall, come on." She said, dragging me down a worn down path. You felt your stomach give a low grumble, and you hadn't noticed how hungry you were until know.

As you sat down at the Hermes table you noticed Leo sitting in a table not too far away, holding an ice pack to his nose.
You looked down at your food, feeling the guilt starting to rise up again. You really felt horrible about giving the poor guy a bloody nose, if only you could-

Wait.
That wasn't guilt, it was just a really bad headache.
A really, really bad headache.

After a quick debate, you stood up from the table and walked away from the dining hall, bringing your goblet of water with you, figuring some water and some nice peace and quiet would do your head some justice. You walked for a good five minutes, and stopped once you could barely hear anything coming from the dining hall, your stopping point just happened to be by a huge oak tree.
With the last rays of sunlight disappearing behing the horizon, you sat down with a sigh, looking upwards and taking a sip from your goblet, trying to cool down and minimize the headache. Its didn't help much. So, closing your eyes, you contemplated going to sleep right at that moment. Much prefering sleeping outside in the cool night air than dealing with a headache in a stuffy cabin.

You stayed there for a few moments, enjoying the fact that the night was perfect today. Today was a good day. Even though today was incredibly hectic, starting out with a terrible morning, a period of time you still didn't remember (and still nobody has bothered to tell you what happened) and the events that took place apparently led you here. After that, you were told you were a child of a godly figure from ancient greek mythology, and instructed to stay at a camp that would keep you safe until you had some sort of training(?). Not that you were complaining, really.
You didn't have anything to go back to, school never mattered much to you, since you were dyslexic and never got good scores. The orphanage you stayed at would probably call the police, file in a missing child report, and the next day the police would send out an Amber Alert. That would be the end of it. Nobody will miss you, except McKinsey, probably. She'll probably be sore about the fact that she never got to get even with you about the purple bruise that's most likely on the top of her forehead. Ha! Try covering that with make up.

Giving a weak laugh, you brought your knees up to you chest, and rested your head on them, feeling quite sorry for yourself.

It was disheartening, knowing that in a few years, the people in your old life won't even care enough to remember what color your eyes were, or how you've tried to ask your crush out on your 9th grade year and failed horribly.
But you knew, even so, that your stay here was going to be better than your past years. You were going to make sure of it. You were going out there and follow your gut instinct. But most importantly, you were going to be optimistic as fuck.

"Ow, shit!"

But first, you have to take care of your headache.

---

Edited 2/1/17

Holy cow, it's been a while.

Hey guys! It's been, what, 4-5 years since I first published this story? And to think all of these chapters were first poorly written by an 11 year old child in the middle of the night in the span of four days. I literally deleted and rewrote the last half of this chapter because of how bad it was. I'm surprised this story got any votes at all.

Of course, I'm not a professional, so I'm not claiming that my  rewrites are pieces of art. It more like polished trash (Trademark SkittlesTheUnicornia, 2017. "Polished trash").

DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER, IM TIRED AND I DO NOT WISH TO EDIT THE REST TODAY.

STORY CURRENTLY GOING UNDER MAJOR EDITING, FROM THIS CHAPTER ON, YOU MAY READ SCENES THAT MAY SEEM OUT OF PLACE, WORDS THAT DO NOT MATCH UP TO PREVIOUS CHAPTERS, OR IMPORTANT EVENTS THAT MAY HAVE BEEN SKIPPED.

I DO NOT RECOMMEND READING PAST THIS CHAPTER UNTIL THIS BOLDED, UNDERLINED MESSAGE IS REMOVED.

READ ON AT YOUR OWN MENTAL HEALTH RISK

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