Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters and rights belong to Rick Riordan.
(NOTE: Andy is going to be played by Emily Rudd.)

ACT I: THE LIGHTNING THIEF

Math Teachers Reign From Hell

If there was one thing Andy Jackson hated most, it was field trips.

Now don't get her wrong, she didn't hate the actual field trip, but rather the bad luck that followed after her to it.

Andy was, in the simplest terms, a trouble magnet. Wherever she went, there was bound to be disaster littering in her wake. Now whether that disaster is angry adults, expulsion and (in one particular case) a house fire, all depends on the situation.

For example, when Andy was in fifth-grade her class went to the Saratoga Battlefield. She was just innocently wandering about when she spotted a Revolutionary War Cannon in the corner of her eye. It looked old and the class was scattered around so, like any curious ten year old would do, Andy pulled the string. Not even a minute later the yellow school bus went up in flames (and what's up with letting children around that thing?! If it still worked it should've had more security!). She wasn't aiming for the bus, but she still got expelled anyway.

Another time, when she was in fourth-grade, her class had been awarded a behind-the-scenes tour the Marine World shark pool. She had been at the very back of the group and the teacher had called on her to pull the lever for the lights. She had asked which one and was told the left...turned out that was a mistake (though, she could have sworn a woman's voice told her to pick that one. Her teacher was the only adult around too). The whole class went right off the catwalk and into the pool below. You really don't want to know what happened afterwards.

And a time before that...well you get the idea.

The point is that Andy Jackson hated field trips with her whole being. Hence why she was so against going when her Latin teacher, Mr. Brunner, brought it up in class.

Mr. Brunner was a middle aged man with thinning hair and a scruffy beard. He had some accident in early life and was bound to a wheelchair for the rest of it. You wouldn't think he'd be cool at first, but he told stories and let students play games in class. He was laid back and his class was so exciting, it didn't even put Andy to sleep like others.

To be honest, Mr. Brunner was Andy's favorite teacher. Probably the only good thing Yancy Academy had to offer. And being Andy's favorite also meant that, despite her countless excuses and avoidances, Mr. Brunner wanted to make sure Andy had the full field trip experience. Meaning that he talked the Headmaster into signing her permission slip and allow her on the trip without delay.

Great...

So now she was sitting on the yellow school bus of death riding to her funeral with no one to keep her company but the twenty-six hyperactive kids around her, throwing wads of paper at each other and yelling to the heavens about nothing and anything. Ain't she lucky!

"I don't see why you're so upset about this. We're going to the Metropolitan Museum of Art! Weren't you the one who said you wanted to visit it one day? This trip is free!"

Oh yeah. Grover's here with her. She forgot about him when she fell into a deep pit of self-pity.

"It's not like I don't wanna go to the museum. I just afraid it might catch on fire like what happen at that firehouse." she told him.

Grover's eyes narrowed. "What firehouse?"

"You don't wanna know."

Grover Underwood was Andy's only best friend at Yancy Academy. He was tall and scrawny with a mass of curly brown hair and matching eyes. He must've been held back several years because he was the only sixth grader she knew with bad acne. Grover was disabled and had some kind of muscular disease in his legs that had him excused for life from any physical activities (But don't let that fool you! You should see him running when there's enchiladas for lunch). He was the type of guy that cried easily and got bullied everyday. In fact, Grover getting bullied had been one reason why he and Andy were inseparable now.

There was something unreal about the way she fought. The way her body would twist and spin out of reach. The way her windblown curls flared out like a halo of darkness around her face. Her expression was one from the nightmare and the fury in those sea colored orbs was astounding. Red colored her vision and her blood boiled like lava. She was going to make them pay! How dare they hurt the only person who willingly befriended her!

Fingers snapped in front of Andy's face and she blinked. Grover was looking at her with soft concern. He asked, "You alright?"

"Yeah I'm fine," Andy brushed him off. Grover didn't look convinced but he dropped it.

"But really, just how did you burn down the firehouse?"

"Why do you automatically assume it was my fault?"

"Because most of the time it is."

...oOo...

Mr. Brunner was leading the tour.

He led the class through multiple galleries filled to the brim with marble statues and glass cases of black-and-orange pottery. His voice was a constant strum of stories and jokes of how they were made, why and how such art lead the way into modern day life. It was actually pretty neat, and Andy found herself relaxing and joking with Grover within minutes.

Mr. Brunner gathered them around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started talking about how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a young girl their age. Andy tried to immerse herself in his story, but it was hard with everybody else talking.

"And, like, I told him 'No way you pervert, go away' and he started bawling like a baby," the nasally voice of the kleptomaniac, Nancy Bobofit, sounded to her right.

Annoyed, Andy turned on her and snapped, "Do you ever SHUT UP!?"

It came out louder than she meant it to.

The class laughed and Mr. Brunner frowned severely at her. "Miss Jackson, do you have a comment?"

Cheeks flushed red, Andy muttered, "No sir."

"Then perhaps you can tell us what scene this represents?" Mr. Brunner waved towards a carving on a stele.

Andy looked at it and nearly crumpled to the floor in relief. She answered confidently, "That's the tale of Kronus, right? The guy who ate all of his kids?"

Mr. Brunner wasn't satisfied. "And he did this because...?"

"Well," Andy began. "Kronus was the king god and-"

"'God?" Mr. Brunner interjected.

"Titan," Andy corrected herself. "And he didn't trust his kids who were gods. So Kronus ate them, right? But Rhea hid baby Zues and gave Kronus a rock to eat instead. So when Zues grew up, he tricked Kronos into throwing up his siblings."

"Ew," chorused some of the girls behind her.

Andy ignored them. "And so a war broke out, and the Gods won."

A few Snickers from the group.

From the side, Nancy muttered to her friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Miss Jackson," Mr. Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover snickered.

"Shut up," Nancy hissed.

Andy looked at Mr. Brunner with frown. "I don't know, sir. I don't understand what you're asking..."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "Well, half credit, Miss Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his five other children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

Ah, yes. How could Andy possibly forget Mrs. Dodds?

Mrs. Dodds was the exact opposite of Mr. Brunner. She's thin as bones with wrinkly skin and eyes as dark as coal. She always wore a leather jacket and was mean enough to ride a Harley into anyone's locker. She had come to Yancy after the last Pre-Algebra teacher had a nervous breakdown and has stayed there ever since. From day one, she decided that Nancy was an angel that could do no wrong, and Andy was the devil's spawn. Whenever she punished a student, she would point her finger and say 'Now Honey' in a sickly sweet voice, and you'd know that you'll have to stay up after hours erasing answers out of old math workbooks.

Andy hated Mrs. Dodds with passion, and the feeling was mutual.

The old woman was hovering behind the class with eyes glaring daggers into Andy's head like always. With a sharp hiss at Mr. Brunner's gesture, she turned on her heel and marched off, her shoes hitting the floor like loud firecrackers.

The class followed, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Andy and Grover moved to take up the end, but Mr. Brunner called out, "Miss Jackson?"

"Called it," Andy muttered bitterly. She sent Grover a strained smile and motioned for him to go on.

Once Grover turned the corner, Andy turned to Mr. Brunner and said, "Yes sir?"

Looking at her with those soul-seeking eyes of his, he told her, "You must learn the answer to my question."

Andy was confused. "About the Titans?"

"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," the man said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Andy Jackson."

"Right. I understand."

Mr. Brunner cast a long, sad look towards the girl on the stele. He heaved a heavy sigh and said, "Go on and eat your lunch, child."

...oOo...

Outside, storm clouds had started to gather overhead. The class was spread out on the pavilion. Boys pelted pigeons with crackers, and girls sat amidst groups, giggling. Nancy was trying to pickpocket tourists. Mr. Brunner rolled his wheelchair to the edge of the pavilion, propped up a red umbrella attached to his arm, and munched as celery as he read a paperback book. Andy and Grover sat on the fountain's edge, away from their classmates, and watched the flow of traffic going past.

"He can be so annoying sometimes!" Andy complained as she munched moodily on her sandwich. "He always says it every time I don't know something! I expect the best from you, Andy Jackson. I'm not a brainiac or a genius! I mean, come on! I haven't even gotten higher than a C- in my life."

"He just wants you to try your best," Grover pointed out in a not-so-helpful way.

"You Mr. I-Can-Pass-All-My-Latin-Test-Easily aren't suffering from ADHD, Dyslexia and possibly psychopathic tendencies," Andy sassed, "Don't get to defend him."

"There's no 'possibly', Andy. You are a psychopath."

"I am not."

"You were screaming 'Let the devil rise and condemn your souls to fiery pits of hell' for half an hour last Friday."

"Doesn't count."

"All I did was eat your apple."

"You should know better than to touch my food, Green Boy."

"That's not the point," Grover sighed exasperated. Andy opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could, Nancy appeared in front of them with her equally nasty friends behind her.

She must've gotten bored with stealing from the tourist, because she dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap with an ugly, cackling giggle.

"Oops." She grinned. The widespread of freckles on her face looked like sprayed on Cheetos. "I thought you were the trash can, my mistake."

Nancy's friends let out bouts of laughter. Grover's cheeks flushed a blotchy red. His bottom lip was beginning to wobble.

Nancy bent over and put her hands on her knees, her expression just as mocking as her voice. "Oh, is the baby gonna cry?

Unshed tears were shimmering in Grover's eyes now. Nancy and her friends laughed again.

Snap.

Shh. You hear that? That was the last strand of Andy's patience breaking.

She tried to stay cool. She tried to breathe in and keep her temper. But she was so mad that her mind went blank.

A wave roared in her ears.

What happened next was unexplainable.

Somehow, someway Nancy moved from standing up with that stupid smug smirk on her face, to sitting on her butt in the fountain, covered from head to toe in water.

"Andy pushed me!" she screeched.

Mrs. Dodds materialized onto the scene out of thin air.

The other kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

But their words were easily overlooked by the triumph fire burning in Mrs. Dodds' eyes.

"Now honey," the old woman began.

Great, she was using those words again. Whenever she said 'Now Honey' it meant another unbelievable punishment being bestowed upon yours truly.

"I know, I know," Andy said through a clenched jaw. "Another night erasing workbooks."

But Mrs. Dodds said, "Come with me."

"Wait!" Grover yelled as he jumped in between the two. "It was me. I pushed her."

Andy stared at him, stunned. She couldn't believe he was trying to cover for her. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

The Math teacher glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover shot Andy a desperately pleading look.

"It's okay," Andy laid a hand on his shoulder, reassuringly. "I'm a big girl. I can take it. Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked at her. "Now."

Andy clenched her fists and went to give her a deluxe Watch-your-tone-with-me-right-now stare, but paused.

She was staring at thin air.

But hadn't Mrs. Dodds-

"Honey!"

How'd she get up on the staircase so fast? Andy blinked at the small teacher who was gesturing impatiently for her to follow. Did she have a black out again?

Sometimes, due to ADHD, she has these black outs that feel like some piece of the universe had fallen, leaving her staring into the place it left, wondering...

Andy shook her head and followed her teacher into the museum again. The Gift Shop was coming into view, and for a second Andy thought that she was just going to forced to buy poor old Nancy some clothes. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

Mrs. Dodds led her back to the hall from before, stopping in front of a big marble frieze of the Gods with crossed arms. She was making this odd noise in the back of her throat - like growling.

Even without the noise, Andy would've been nervous. Mrs. Dodds was never the type of teacher you'd enjoy being alone with. But the way she was looking at the frieze, like she wanted to pulverize it...

"You are quite the tricky one, Honey," Mrs. Dodds said. "Always giving us problems."

Andy did the safe thing and said, "Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Dodds tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes when she turned to Andy was beyond mad. It was evil.

Andy swallowed. Mrs. Dobbs was starting to freak her out. She said, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Andy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

All Andy could do was step back in confusion.

Her mind went back to every bad thing she did all school year. The illegal stash of candy she'd been selling out of her dorm room. The essay on Tom Sawyer she got from the Internet without ever reading the book. Maybe they were going to take away her grade? Or worse, they were going to make her actually read the book!

"Well?" Mrs. Dodds demanded.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hissed.

And then things from weird to freaky. Mrs. Dodds' eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice Andy to ribbons.

And that wasn't bad enough; Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum only a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Andy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunged.

With a yelp, Andy dodged and felt talons slash the air next to her ear. She snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit her hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tournament days; where he challenged the class sword point to chalk to go to the board and name every Greek and Roman hero who ever lived, their mother, and what God they worshipped.

Without a moment to lose, Mrs. Dodds spun around and met her gaze with a murderous eyes.

Her body shaking, all Andy could do was try to not drop the sword.

Mrs. Dodds snarled, "Die, honey!"

And she flew straight at her.

Absolute terror ran through Andy's body. She did the only thing that came naturally: She swung the sword.

Hiss!

The metal blade hit Mrs. Dodds' shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water.

The demon's body exploded into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching.

Andy was alone.

There was a ballpoint pen in her hand.

Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but her.

What the heck just happened?

Had she imagined the whole thing?

She went back outside.

It had started to rain.

Nancy was standing by the fountain, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her friends. When she saw Andy, she snarled, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

Andy blinked at her. "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

"...Did you hit your head on the bottom of the fountain of something? Cause I think you must've gotten a concussion."

Nancy rolled her eyes with a sound of disgust and turned away.

Andy sat back down besides Grover. The boy was using a newspaper as a tent to cover his head.

"Hey," the boy greeted. "How'd it go?"

"..." Andy wasn't sure how to describe everything that just happened. Instead, she settled on asking, "Where's Mrs. Dodds?"

"Who?" Grover replied.

But he had paused first, and kept looking into the rain. Andy scowled.

"Not funny, dude. This is serious."

Thunder boomed overhead.

Mr. Brunner was sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book, as if he'd never moved.

Andy approached him.

He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Miss Jackson."

Andy handed Mr. Brunner his pen. She hadn't even realized she was still holding it.

"Sir," she said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stared at her blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Andy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dobbs at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling alright?"