The Blossom Tree

By aubenderofgenders

Disclaimer: All the character names and personalities are not mine; they are Rick Riordan's. The story line is my own though. Constructive criticism appreciated. R & R.

Chapter One

Dew dropped from the tallest blossom down to the chocolate brown dirt. Cherry blossom petals flew away, white snow on a bright, sunny day. The tree was in the center of a rose garden, perfectly trimmed flowers decorate the walls and floor, pebbles mark off each different section, chrysanthemums, daisies, fruits, vegetables and roses of every shape and color. Not a weed in sight.

A toddler as beautiful as the garden overwatered the blossom tree, staring at the grave it was growing on top of. A name was engraved in the headstone, a picture duct taped on. As the girl stared at the duct taped woman, the woman stared back, as the child stared, it seemed like the dead woman lived, her features were the same, same high cheekbones, same button nose, same ruby lips, same tanned skin, same long raven hair. Year after year the girl looked at the picture, touching her hair, thinking about how she always kept it in a pixie cut, just because its how her mother liked it. Finally, when she was 18, she looked at the only feature she didn't share with her mother, large blue eyes.

Hers were large but sea green, the same her mother said her father's were, the father she knew existed (he biologically had to) but didn't know who or where he was. Even is she found out he would never be her dad. She didn't have a dad. The closest she had to a dad was her chauffer, Paul, or maybe her vocal coach, Coach Hedge, on old wrestler/rock star. Definitely not her step-dad, Gabe or Smelly Gabe as 8-year-old her used to call him. 16 years and she still couldn't believe her mother never divorced the man who forced to marry him. The chime of her alarm broke her thought train.

4 o'clock. The girl put on some extremely large sunglasses and a white, floppy sun hat and walked out a door, hidden by vines into a garden. At the end of the garden was an old Edwardian house. Right next to the secret garden a small cottage stood. The girl didn't even look at it, a flash of blue shone out of it.

"I love you, mommy," she whispered. And as the wind tried to knock off her hat and as the sun tried to blind her through her glasses she could have sworn she heard a faint whisper coming from the grave marked Sally Jackson.

"I love you too, Precious Jackson."

_LINE_BREAK_

Precious Jackson ran through her house, grabbing a designer raincoat. Covering her face, she ran to her mini. Half way down the driveway flashes of light erupted. Precious sighed and smiled then struck her a pose. The paparazzi follow Precious everywhere, asking where she was going, how she was doing, how her love life was and (a question she didn't get) who she was wearing, because what type of human wears another human? (Don't worry Precious know what it means). As expected a herd of questions bombarded her;

"Precious, where are you going?"

"When will your next album be released?"

"Who are you wearing for you tour release party?"

"How is you father, Gabe?" Precious answered every question calmly, dreading one question, the question asked every time.

"If I tell where I'm going then my host will be upset for they will have no peace. My album is released on New Years Eve. I will be wearing a dress made by the one and only Lea Valdez, fashion extraordinaire. My STEPFATHER, Gabe, is fine. Anymore questions?" Jackson said with a fake smile. Though she was a people person sometimes she thought that the people forgot she was just one person. Then the question popped up;

"How is your girlfriend, Rachel Elizabeth Dare?" there it was the question that outdid all other question. Precious' manager, Dionysus, saw it as a great publicity stunt and bribed Apollo, the as-famous-as-Tyra-Banks model's manager into forcing the two girls into pretending to be in love. I seemed like time froze as Precious had flashbacks of the past two moths. The dates, the holding of hands, the forced kissing. Then time went back to moving.

"She's…ugh…great. I seriously have to go," the singer/songwriter ran to her car and raced to a glass black of apartments. Precious buzzed the doorbell for the penthouse apartment.

"Hello. Who is it?" a slurred voice boomed.

"Precious."

"Well in that case. Get your lazy ass up here!"

_LINE_BREAK_

Forty flights and some cheesy elevator music later, Precious who knocking at an old, battered, falling-off-its-hinges door. She could already smell the cigars, taste the liquor and hear the shouts from Gabe taking over the phone.

"Doors open!" She creaked open the door and popped her head inside.

"Hi Sme…Gabe. How are you today?"

"Don't start the politeness again, just give me my money and get out." Purses and wallets opened and thirty dollars were transferred from one area of security to another.

"Five…ten…fifteen…twenty…twenty-five…thirty…hey! I'm seventy bucks short!"

"Don't you remember? You asked for an extra seventy last…"

"Don't try to lie your way out of this, your slut! Your mother would have been so ashamed of you, tricking you own father, using his short-term memory against him. I let you go off and become a musician and get famous and all I ask for is for you to pay my bills and my debts and give me a measly hundred every moth and this is how you thank me? I should never have agreed for Olympus Records to give you an album. I mean who listens to your crap anyway?" another seventy was handed over.

"More like it. Now get out, bitch!" Precious headed for the door.

"Actually wait…listen," Precious turned slowly around and warily walked towards her stepfather, never stepdad, always stepfather.

"Don't you ever lie to me again!" his fist went straight towards her nose, then again at her eye. He took a swing of some beer. As Precious left she saw herself at a cracked mirror. Great, a black eye and a bloody nose. How was she supposed to explain this?

"Ha! Precious! More like Shitty!" Gabe shouted, drunk. Glasses broken and hat lost in the rubble, Precious ran out of the apartment. The paparazzi had found her by now.

"Ms. Jackson, why the bloody nose and the black eye?"

"Oh, I…ya know…" she stared at the penthouse window, only to feel the sense that someone was shooting daggers at her, "walked into a shelf…"

Hm? Wonder why Precious covered for Gabe? I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter of The Blossom Tree. If you guys want more then review. I need seven reviews; I need to know if any people like the story so far. If you have an ideas just review them or PM me. Reviews equal shout outs! B.T.W's; only the seven have they're genders bended.

Bye! Love from,

Aubenderofgenders Xoxoxox