Okay, so this is an idea I've been sitting on for a while, and because any time I write a multi chapter story it gets scrapped, hopefully I don't give up halfway through writing this. I don't own any songs that you recognize. The story plot idea might be kinda stupid, but I have this headcanon stuck in my head, so here it is! Anything that you recognize, I don't own. I may have tweaked a few things to fit my fic, but nothing to major. Also, in the opening scene, there is a letter, written by a dyslexic person; it is probably not at all how dyslexics write, but I'm not trying to discriminate or anything, so hopefully it isn't to off the mark. Any thing that a character expresses in here aren't my thoughts, they're the characters' (Unless I say otherwise, in a A/N much like this one). Enjoy!

-Lauren Swan.

I lowered my eyes to the pink and gray hall mat, a messily made envelope sitting on top of the fluffy, plush carpet adorning the mat. "Karina! Please don't tell me that you brought in more fake mail!" I called, twisting my head back so my wavy blonde locks fell into my face.

A moment later, my timid maid quickly scurried into the room, her head hanging dejectedly. Most would have fired her by then, thanks to her stuttering manner, even though it was a speech deficiency. I, however, didn't mind, and actually found it a bit endearing, mentally considering her an acquaintance, or even a friend. "M-Miss Chase, I b-believe that was given to to y-you by your n-new neighbor," she all-but-whispered. I raised an eyebrow.

"Someone moved in? I thought that Piper was keeping it?" I questioned. Piper, my best friend and lead dancer, lived across the street from me in our Beverly Hills-like suburb.

"Y-Yes. I b-believe that sh-she is is l-letting her b-brother stay there."

I glanced at her. "Huh. And I'm assuming this letter is from her mysterious older brother who's name I don't even know?"

Without responding, Karina gave a quick nod.

I glanced at the envelope. "I should open it, shouldn't I?" Without looking at her expression, I turned around, freeing her from my cold, gray, calculating gaze. "Oh, and Karina? Please call me Annabeth. Or even Miss Annabeth if you have to. Just please don't call me Miss Chase. It makes me feel old, and I don't want to feel as old as Athena Chase when I'm going on my tour."

I felt Karina quickly nod her head again. "Y-Yes Miss Ch-Annnabeth. I'll be leaving now."

I mentally grinned. Apparently, though I didn't see proof of it often, it was a good decision to pay for the speech therapist Karina was seeing. Picking the envelope up, I carefully scanned the chicken scratch that was on it, in place of neat, legible writing. Now, don't get me wrong, I'd trust Karina to take care of my fortune (in fact, I do), but ever since she downloaded a virus into our old security system, thinking it was an update, I've taken extra care in double checking most things she's done.

The writing itself looked vaguely familiar to me, and upon closer inspection, I realized that it was the writing of a dyslexic person; my writing, until my birth mother, Athena Chase, took guardianship of me when I was sixteen, putting me in writing classes to learn how to write properly, without my dyslexia being apparent in anything I hand wrote.

Piper, too, had dyslexia, but I didn't expect her brother to have the condition as well.

Shaking my head slightly, to remove my ADHD-induced thought thread, I gently tore at the envelope, putting the now-empty paper folding on the hallway table I had been resting against while talking to Karina. The letter itself was typed out; a welcome relief, seeing as how I had ben completely unable to read what had been on the envelope's front. Yet it may not be quite useful as I thought, once I reminded myself that he did, in fact, have dyslexia, and, while I may be able to read what he typed, I still probably wouldn't be as to understand it.

To howeevr lvies heer,

Hi. My naem is Percy Jackson, and I am Piper McLean's/Jackson's odlre by one yera brtohre. I jyst muued in, wil seh is in Manhattan, and am trhoinwg a huswarnign praty tomuroaw, at 5:00 p.m., if yuo'd liik to com. I am dyslexic, wih is wy thehs lether is wrehten bdly.

Thanks,

Percy Jackson

That was the letter? I know he had dyslexia, but this looked like the alphabet threw up. The only thing that was spelled properly was Manhattan, Piper's name, and what I assumed to be his name, Percy Jackson.

Normally I would ignore this kind of stuff, and assume it's a prank, except for the fact very few knew Piper was once the neglected daughter of Rena "Aphrodite" and Tristan McLean, until they died in a car crash, and among those few, practically no one knew she was going to Manhattan to see if she could buy a low-scale apartment closer to her boyfriend, Jason Grace; as far as both the public, and the press knew, she was going to Bora Bora, to celebrate her new modeling job with Vogue, along with the fact that she had finally, after years of auditions and cancled contracts, gotten onto the cover of Vogue.

Personally, I also felt a little bad for the guy. Honestly, he had tried to get to know his new neighbors, although, because, practically no one this street except for Piper and me liked each other, behind the cameras, I highly doubted anyone would go to what appeared to an invitation to a house party.

"Karina!" I called.

"Y-Yes Miss Annabeth?" Karina questioned.

"Fix my schedule. It appears I'm going to a party tomorrow."