Percy Jackson
Look, I didn't want to be a half blood.
Hey. My name is Percy. Jackson. Percy Jackson. I'm 12 years old, and I live with my mom, Sally Jackson (a queen amongst humans) and step-dad, Gabe Ugliano (who's last name tells you everything you need to know about him) in Manhattan on the East Side in an apartment that's barely big enough for the three of us.
During the school year, though (or at least this school year), I'm not at home. I just started at Yancy Academy for Troubled Kids.
Because after getting expelled from 5 schools in 5 years, adults consider me troubled. Which, on paper, I can understand, but they expelled me for reasons that we're totally out of my control. Or, mostly, at least.
I was determined to be good this year, though. While there was no hope for me to get good grades- it's a miracle if I ever get above a C-, I was determined to not get expelled because of some stupid accident or behavior.
Having teachers who don't understand that having ADHD and dyslexia makes school hard means that I don't always make friends with my teachers.
Or other students.
Most kids don't like me.
Which, maybe some of that is self inflicted because I befriend the kids who the popular, annoying, rich white kids pick on, but the people getting bullied are usually cool and actually have a personality.
This year's friend was my roommate, Grover Underwood. He must've hit puberty early or something because he had some sort of weird goatee and he loved enchiladas (only cheese one, though, because he's vegetarian) and he's excused from gym for the rest of his life because of some weird muscle disease he has. He walks with a limp, so watching him try to run to the cafeteria on enchilada day was always kind of funny.
He's also super nice, though, and doesn't have dyslexia so I'm doing better in English and also Latin than I usually would be. I don't know much about his family or any of his life outside of school, but maybe it's for the better.
After all, the chances that we'll hang out after I probably get expelled from here are slim to none. None of my others friends have ever talked to me after I was expelled, after all.
But only time will tell, right? I usually just try not to think about it.
Right now, my class was currently heading to the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art (or just the MET, if you're a normal person), and I was determined to not get in trouble on this field trip.
Boy, how wrong was I to hope that.
You see, this field trip was being led by my Latin teacher, Mr. Burner, who was actually cool like 75% of the time because he actually made class interesting enough to stay awake in. He'd always bring in these swords and challenge us sword to chalk point to name all of these people who's names I can't spell and can hardly pronounce- but he's not hard on spelling so that's cool. Despite being disabled, he's also a mean swordsman.
Chaperoning with him, though, was the devil herself: Mrs. Dodds. She was our long term pre-algebra sub who just kind of showed up in December and decided that she hated me and loved Nancy Bobofit, the girl who was currently chucking bits of her lunch at Grover's head from three seats back.
"I swear to God, if she throws another piece..." I warned before Grover placed a hand on my arm.
"It's alright, dude, I like peanut butter." He insisted, which wasn't the point, but I know what he meant. He took another piece of sandwich out of his hair. "And plus, if you get in trouble again, it won't be good- you're still on parole, Percy."
"Well... Yeah," I couldn't argue there, though, because I've known Andrew, my parole officer, longer than I've known Grover. We meet frequently. "But if she comes up to us and I punch her, that's her fault."
Grover just sighed.
"Whatever you say, Perce."
The tour of the MET, even though it was led by Mr. Burner, wasn't all that interesting. Maybe if Nancy Bobofit and her posse weren't talking constantly throughout it, it'd be more interesting because I'd be able to focus on what Burner was telling us. It's not like I'd be able to keep what he was talking about straight, though, so it didn't matter.
There was one instance that I did take notice of during the tour. Chiron had been talking about Achilles and Patroclus because their urn was on display, and the way he looked at the urn...
It was like he knew them personally.
"Wait, their ashes are both in there?" Nancy questioned, her face scrunching in disgust. "What were they, gay?"
"They were," Mr. Burner confirmed before backtracking. "Or, most historians believe they were. It's hard to ever say for certain."
Her face contorted.
"Ew."
I looked down at my sneakers.
She wasn't quiet enough, thankfully. Bruner is one of the only teachers that ever seems to hear Nancy Bobofit, and the only one that ever calls her out.
"What was that, Ms. Bobofit?"
"Hm?" She responded. "Oh. I said oh, because I didn't know that before."
More like because you're homophobic.
"I see. Well I'm glad you learned something here today, young lady."
Nobody bought it, but we continued the tour until we reached a painting that I didn't know but vaguely recognized. Nancy was still throwing bits of her lunch in Grover's hair.
Grover was eating it.
I should punch her.
Not now, but... Later. Maybe when we have lunch, or on the bus.
She was being really annoying and there was a lot of noises going on, so when she was snickering and making comments to her friends about a naked guy on a stele, I had enough.
"Will you shut up?"
The room fell silent, and I realized too soon what happened.
I was louder than I meant to be.
"Mr. Jackson," my Latin teacher promoted. "Did you have a comment?"
"No, sir."
But that wasn't enough for Mr. Bruner because why would he be. He raised an eyebrow.
"Perhaps," he suggested. "you could tell us what this picture represents?"
And thank God, after looking at the picture being referenced, I was able to figure out what it was because we talked about it in class the other day.
"That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"
"Correct! And he did it because..."
Shit.
"...because he uh-" but just because we talked about it doesn't mean I remembered the details. "Kronos was king of the gods-"
"Gods?"
"Titans." I corrected myself. "And he didn't trust the gods because they were his kids, so he ate them, right? But his wife his Zeus and gave him a rock so he threw up the others and-"
"Ew!" One of the other girls yelled.
"There was a war between the gods and titans," I wish I'd known the irony of having to answer this question at the time. "and the gods won."
And even though they probably couldn't have answered that themselves, some kids snickered behind me.
"Like it's going to say on our job applications, please explain why Kronos ate his kids." Nancy Bobofit muttered to her friend- not quiet enough. "Like we need to know this."
"And why, Mr. Jackson, to answer Nancy's question," Mr. Bruner asked as if it wasn't his job to answer our questions. "Does this matter in real life?"
"Busted," Grover muttered.
"Shut up." Nancy returned.
At least she got busted. Mr. Bruner is the only teacher who seems to hear anything she says- all the other teachers love her. I don't get it.
Sadly, her being busted didn't help me.
"I don't know," I admitted, shrugging and looking at the painting again.
"I see, well... Half credit," Mr. Bruner decided before recalling the story to us. "Zeus did feed him mustard and wine to disgorge the other five children. After which, they defeated their father, sliced him into small pieces, and sent him to the depths of Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch!"
Starving, unlike Grover, I was more than ready to eat when I was denied the pleasantry.
"Mr. Jackson."
Really? Now?
I thought Bruner would talk to Nancy before me.
Telling Grover I'd meet him outside and turned around to face my Latin teacher, who, being in a wheelchair, I was taller than.
"Sir?"
And again, he had that look in his eyes - intense brown eyes like he'd actually witnessed Kronos being cut up or Achilles and Patroclus being buried together.
Like they'd witnessed everything.
"You must learn the answer to my question?"
"About the titans?" I asked, confused because I answered the question.
"About real life." He clarified. "And how your studies apply to it."
"Oh."
"What you learn from me and in my class is vital for you, Percy," but I didn't like that he singled me out. As if I'd remember what he taught me in a year because it's my best class right now, but it's still a C-. "I expect you to treat it as such. I will only accept the best from you, Percy Jackson."
The best?
As if I wasn't already giving his class my best?
Sure, you could call me out in math. You could insist I could try harder in English and you'd probably be right.
But not Bruners class. It's the one class I actually enjoyed and at least tried to pay attention in and usually could because he was energetic and fun- even if I couldn't remember all of those names and who came first and why it's important.
Why is it important?
Sure, it's a story, and I guess it can teach about like, abusive families and stuff (trust me, I would know), but at the end of the day it's a myth, right? A story.
I'll only accept the best from you.
Then I guess my best wasn't good enough, right?
I wanted to get angry. To punch a wall or knock something over. He pushes me so hard and I don't get it. Mr. Bruner has pushed me since day one.
Sure, it's cool to have a teacher believe in me for the first time in years, and it's fun to go chalk point to sword point trying to list all of the heroes and where and what and everything about them, but he expects me to be as good- no, better- than the other students, as if my highest grade isn't a C-.
After making up something about trying harder, I went outside to have lunch with my best friend.
Sitting on the steps outside of the MET probably looked weird- a bunch of juvenile kids in front of a prestigious museum, but it was nice out for once. Ever since December, the weather's been weird- freak storms, flooding, forest fire from lightning, hurricanes, the works- and while it looked like it might storm soon, it was nice right now. I wouldn't be shocked if it ended up as a hurricane later, though.
Either nobody cared or noticed the weather, though. I sat down next to Grover at the edge of the fountain. Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket a lady's purse, her lunch either in Grover's hair or stomach by now, and naturally, Mrs. Dodds didn't notice.
"Detention?" Grover asked.
"Not from Bruner," I told him. "I just wish he'd lay off sometimes- I'm neurodivergent, but that doesn't make me a genius."
And after a moment of silence, just when I thought Grover was going to make some deep meaningful stuff up in response, he just motioned to the food in my hand.
"Can I have your apple?"
But red delicious apples were named by a liar, so I gave it to him, looking at the cars drive down Fifth Avenue.
My mom's apartment wasn't far from here. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about hopping in a taxi and saying hi- maybe staying there, but between the risk of Gabe also being home and his disappointed I'd know my mom would be, I stayed.
She's remind me that, even though Yancy is my sixth school in six years, I need to give it a fair shot and give me a sad look that I didn't want to be the cause of.
It's okay, though, I'll probably get expelled anyways.
Mr. Bruner parked himself at the top of the steps with a book and a little umbrella that he'd managed to get on the back of his wheelchair. It made it look like a cafe table, which made me feel a little better about not being able to go home.
Sadly, that feeling didn't last long.
I was about to unwrap the rest of my lunch when Nancy Bobofit, evidently unsuccessful in her pickpocket attempts, walked over to Grover and I and 'accidentally' dumped her lunch onto Grover's lap.
"Oops." Her Cheeto orange freckles brightened like a masochists.
And you know what? I tried to stay calm. I tried to take my counselors advice and count to ten or my parole officers advice of regrounding myself to my surroundings. But between the bus ride, the snarky comments during the tour, Bruners comment, and now this I...
My mind went blank. I heard a roar in my eyes and that's the only thing I could tell you happened between then and Nancy Bobofit being in the fountain that we'd been sitting by. She was drenched and furious.
Then, even though I literally didn't, Nancy Bobofit pointed like a toddler and screamed "PERCY PUSHED ME!"
And when the princess is in distress, Mrs. Dodds was there. She materialized next to me as the other kids started to react.
"Did you see..."
"... Like the water just... Did it..."
"Like it grabbed her."
I didn't know what they were talking about, but as soon as Mrs. Dodds told me to follow her and started with her classic Oh, honey in that sweet southern tone you know is anything but, I knew I was in trouble.
"Now, honey -"
"I know, I know." I insisted. "A month erasing workbooks after school."
I was incorrect.
"Wait!" And kudos to Grover, who was afraid of Mrs. Dodds and agreed with me that she's some sort of monster, for trying to stand up for me. "He didn't do it! I pushed her in!"
But he's also an awful liar.
"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood."
"But-"
"You will stay here."
Grover looked at me, more pleading, but also somewhat mournful.
"It's chill, man," I insisted. "Thanks for trying."
Before I knew it, Dodds and I were back inside the museum and we were walking towards...
Wait.
How did she did so far ahead of me?
Even though we just walked in, she was already at the end of the hall. That made no sense.
I guess my ADHD just made my mind go blank again. It happens a lot, the counselor says that it's a normal ADHD thing, so I wrote it off as that and kept following my pre-algebra teacher.
Looking back, Grover still seemed worried, but he's always worried, so I kept going and Mrs. Dodds vanished even further.
I guess she's going to make me buy Nancy a new shirt? It would make sense, since it's a bit cold to be outside in wet clothes.
Very quickly, I found out that that wasn't the plan. It wasn't until we were back in the Greco Roman section of the museum that Dodds stopped walking or vanishing or whatever and she stood there.
We were alone in the gallery, and that alone was enough to put me on edge.
The weird noises, almost like growling, made it worse as I think they came from Mrs. Dodds and was starting to suspect she might be a cannibal looking for new meat.
Sadly, I wasn't far off.
"You've been giving us problems, honey."
Hoping she wouldn't skin me alive, I played it safe.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Did you really think you'd get away with it?" She tugged at her leather jacket, but the question made no sense.
I'm here because I didn't get away with something I don't even think I did.
The look in her eyes, unlike the kindness in Bruners, were evil.
She's a teacher. I chided myself. She won't hurt you.
Unless she's a cannibal, I retorted.
"I- I'll try harder, ma'am."
The storm finally stirred. Thunder shook the building.
God, I hated storms.
"We aren't fools, Jackson," but it was weird that she knew my last name since she'd only been subbing for a few months- if that. "confess and you'll suffer less pain. It was only a matter of time before we found you."
Is there somebody else here?
Who is we?
Did they find my illegal candy stash that I was selling? I thought it was untouched this morning.
That didn't warrant a scare like this, though. From Dodds, no less.
Unless they found out I copied my English essay- I think I'd rather be eaten by Dodds if they were going to make me actually read the book. Ideally, I'd just take an F on it.
"Well?" She was growing impatient.
"Ma'am, I don't..."
And as her eyes glowed like magma and her fingers grew into talons, she informed me that my time was up (I always figured I'd die young, though I imagined it differently) and dived towards me as wings sprouted from her back. Opening her mouth, there were now yellow fangs and her breath reeked.
She was old before, sure.
Now she was officially a hag and definitely not human.
Tragically, it only got weirder.
Mr. Bruner wheeled into the room, yelled "WHAT HO!" as he always does when he raises his sword in class, and then his pen was in my hand but it was also a sword and as Dodds lunged again, I slashed as a natural defense and missed.
"Die, honey!"
I probably will, I thought to myself, slashing again, this time landing a hit and...
And suddenly I was standing in a pile of sand. I was covered in sand.
Where did Mrs. Dodds go?
Did I kill her?
But there's no blood, I tried to reason, just... an excessive amount of sand.
I could still feel her evil eyes on me, red dots boring into me, but a scan of the room just confirmed that she wasn't here.
Did I imagine the whole thing?
It wouldn't be the first time.
I went back outside. As the thunder indicated earlier, it was raining now. Grover was still by the fountain, as was Nancy Bobofit, still drenched in water.
"I hope Mrs. Kerr kicked your butt."
But I couldn't have imagined that much.
"Who?"
"Our teacher, dumbass."
I blinked, not having a good response. I'd never heard of a Mrs. Kerr, and I asked Nancy what she was talking about.
She just rolled her eyes and walked away, though. So I turned to Grover and asked where Mrs. Dodds was- if he'd seen her leave.
He paused, and he didn't look at me, but he responded.
"Who?"
Maybe he was just messing with me? Who knows, maybe Mrs. Dodds middle name was Kerr.
"Not funny, man," I insisted. "this is serious."
Thunder boomed again.
Looking over, Mr. Bruner was where he was before I went inside: reading on what may as well be his portable cafe table.
I walked over and he took notice of the pen I'd forgotten I was holding.
"Ah, that would be my pen," he noted, taking it back. "please remember your own writing utensils in the future, Perseus."
I internally rolled my eyes at my full name. I hated it.
"Sir," I figured I'd ask him because he wouldn't play a joke on me. "Where is Mrs. Dodds?"
But he stared at me blankly.
"Who?"
So maybe he would.
"The other chaperone, our algebra teacher," I insisted. "Mrs. Dodds."
And as if my diagnosis were psychosis and not ADHD, Mr. Bruner looked at me with concern and confusion.
"Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip." He informed me. "As far as I know, there's never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Perhaps you're confusing her with an old teacher of yours- are you sure you're okay?"
But that couldn't be.
Did I make the whole thing up?
As if confirming the thought, thunder boomed once more and another teacher whom I'd never seen before, Mrs. Kerr, called all of us to the bus to go back to the school.
There was no sign of Mrs. Dodds.
None of the kids recognized her name.
But Grover wouldn't look at me and I wasn't sure if I could take that as confirmation for her existence or not.
Did I imagine the whole thing?
•••
omg hiiiiiii guys this has been in the drafts for a minute (I've written like 20 chapters as I'm publishing the first ones) so hi!!! I graduated college since I poster last !!!! have fun with this