Hello! So this is my first fanfic I've ever written, so go easy on me! Although, your constructive criticism is highly recommended. Anyways, Percy Jackson and the Olympians belongs to Rick Riordan, the most amazing author EVER! So, this story is set with it being the normal world, so that means, sadly, no Greeks in God form, or Pegasi. But I promise you this story will be good! But, you can leave me a comment on any ideas to make the story better, or let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Percy's POV

Today sucks. It just plain old sucks. Funny, I remember saying this exact same thing not even a year ago for the same reason: transferring to a new school. The whole reason I'm transferring to 'Goode High School' is because I accidentally set the band room on fire at my old school, Yancey Academy. It's not my fault, I didn't even mean to! It just seems that wherever I go, trouble follows like a dog on a leash. It never leaves. Never goes away. I'm always in some kind of trouble, whether it be with my teachers, or my stepfather, or my friends (not that I have any.) Teachers just automatically assume, Oh no! Tommy got beat up today. Hey, let's blame that troublemaker Percy, you know, the kid with ADHD and dyslexia? Yeah him! It's his fault!

Oh, right. I forgot to mention I have ADHD and dyslexia, which is also another reason why people think I'm trouble. It's not my fault I can never sit still, and its not on me that I have trouble paying attention in class. Not to mention the fact that whenever I read, the words swirl around the page and that just gets me more frustrated. I don't even know how I got accepted into this school in the first place.

I stretched and reluctantly got out of bed. I walked over to my tiny dresser. I put on just a regular t-shirt and ripped up jeans with a gray and blue hoodie and black sneakers. It's not too fancy, but yet it's not coming out and saying I'm poor. I grabbed my comb and tried to at least tame my hair down a little. It didn't work. My raven black hair just never cooperated with me. It stuck out in every direction. Oh well. I grabbed my bag and quietly opened my bedroom door. Instantly the smell of beer and cigarettes hit me.

Beer bottles were everywhere. Trash and wrappers littered the floor. About five empty pizza boxes lay open on the counter with flies buzzing around it. On the couch, my no-good, fat, smelly, lazy, sorry excuse of a stepfather, Gabe was laying sprawled out on the couch passed out, either too hungover to stand, or two tired to get up. An empty beer bottle was clenched in his hand as he slept.

I absolutely hate Gabe. I always have since my mother married him three years ago. He's fat, lazy, and smells worse than a horse stable. He's never worked a day in his life since I've known him, and left my mother and I to fend for ourselves to pay the rent in our grungy little apartment and somehow manage to feed all three of us.

My mom would work all day, every day and sometimes, she would even take a few night shifts. She works at a candy store downtown a little ways, so she isn't getting paid much. Hell, she isn't even getting paid a teacher's salary! She works so hard for me and Gabe, and what does Gabe do? He does absolutely nothing except spends mom's hard-earned cash. At least I try help mom out at much as I can; cleaning the apartment a little, giving her any of the cash I find in the streets on my way home from school. Mom is such a nice person that she doesn't even take the money I offered her. Oh wait, I should rephrase that: Mom was such a nice person that she didn't even take the money I offered her. I'm saying 'was' and 'didn't' because my mother is dead. I know, shocker, isn't it? Yeah, I was shocked the first time I found out.

Gabe had been there. I had just gotten home from school and I knew my mom should have been there because she took the day off, but she wasn't there. All there was was Smelly Gabe, as I call him, sitting on the couch, drinking a beer and watching television.

"Where's mom?" I had asked. Gabe looked at me, a scared, solemn expression on his face, which wasn't usually Gabe.

"You didn't hear kid?" He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Hear what?" I was starting to get really scared: Gabe and I never usually had this long of a talk before without him hitting me.

"Your mom's dead, punk," he said, showing no signs of emotion. My brain couldn't process this like most other information.

"Were you not listenin' to me, punk? I said your mom is dead. Gone. Done for," he said mockingly, like he didn't even care. What happened after that was a blur. I remembered Gabe telling me shortly that there was an accident not too far from our apartment building, and my mom had been one of the victims. Apparently, this had happened while I was at school. But there was something I didn't believe about Gabe. At the time I was just a little fourteen year old boy, so I didn't know exactly what was going to happen from then on. But now, I'm two years older and I know that now my mother is gone, I'm stuck with Smelly Gabe until I move out, and until then, I'm stuck being his own personal punching bag. Yes, that's right. If you haven't already guessed, (which I'm hoping you have because I gave out a lot of hints right there,) I'm abused.

I walked down the streets of Manhattan, where I pretty much lived most of my life. I had somehow managed to get away from Smelly Gabe without his fist connecting to any parts of my body, so that's good. A great start to a new school! I already knew where I was supposed to go: I know this place like the back of my hand. A few more turns and I'd be at my new school. Yay.

Finally, there it is; my new torture destination. At least for a few months anyway before I kicked our of this one. When I arrived at the school and was closer to the entrance, it was bigger than I expected. It was pretty wide, and one of the tallest buildings in the area. Outside, teenagers were roaming around, waiting for school to start, or catching up with friends. People called other people's names and gave them friendly waves. A few of what looked like football players tried flirting with a couple girls. I didn't want anybody to notice me, so I put my hood up, and kept my head down. I was supposed to go to the office right away when I arrived. Thing is, I had no idea where the office is.

I kept fishing my way around people as I made it to the massive stone steps leading up to the huge doorframe with the doors wide open.

Alright Percy, no problem. You've done this before many times. You got this, I thought. This school was way bigger than any other school I've ever gone to which made it a little more intimidating. Whatever. I just had to shuffle around until I found the office. And with that, I walked up the stone steps, and into the school.

After about seven minutes of walking and about fifteen hallways and corridors later, I finally found the principal's office. The door was huge. It was brown with a see-through window, and painted on that window in tiny fancy letters, it said: 'Mr Bunsre Pinipals Oice.' Sorry, that probably wasn't right; damn dyslexia. It took me a minute, but I finally figured out that it said 'Mr Brunner, Principals Office.' Now see, that made more sense. I reluctantly twisted the knob and walked in.

"Ah. Percy Jackson, we've been expecting you. Welcome to Goode High."

So, I think that's it for the first chapter. Sheesh! Is that all it takes to write one of these things? Psssht! Piece of Cake! (Yeah right! I stayed up at 11:00 in a school night making this thing!) Anyways, I hope you liked this first chapter, and let me know your thoughts! Love you guys lots, and I'll see you very very soon with another chapter up! This is DemigodUndercover, signing out.