Author's Note: *nervous laughter* I know. I really shouldn't do this. The only reason I am is to see if this is a good idea or nah. I'm not going to past anymore chapters of this until my Until Dawn fic is over, but I NEED to know if people like this plan. Because if not, I'll trash it. So yeah.

I've been a huge fan of Percy Jackson since the fifth grade and I always wanted to write an OC into his world. The only problem was, I could never think of a good enough idea to really begin the transition. Then this hit me. And it was like, 'Frick yeah!' So hopefully, you PJO fans give me a shot. (Also I'm going to give you a sales pitch and ask you to read my Until Dawn fic if you're familiar with the game, because that fic is my pride and joy right now. So thanks.)

Anyway, I might as well let you guys at it. Let me know what you think! I'm not a mind reader (except when it comes to Mini Chipmunk), so any feedback is the best feedback! Unless you're a dick about it, then please, kindly throw yourself off a cliff. So enjoy! :D

Rating: This'll be a solid T rating for action sequences and language.

Disclaimer: All rights to the PJO and HoH universe go to the man, the myth, and the legend, Rick Riordan himself. I take claim to my OCs.

Editing: All editing is done by me, all mistakes are mine.


Prologue

I didn't want to go to the wedding.

I know, I know, that may sound a bit selfish, but I really didn't.

It wasn't going to be a big thing. Just Sally and her son, me, my dad, and my grandma, and my Uncle Jeff, a couple of my dad's friends and Sally's friends for the groomsmen and bridesmaids. The priest would marry the two and there'd be a short wedding reception at some dance hall that my dad's mom rented out, and that would be it. Not a big thing, right? No issue.

Wrong.

Don't get me wrong. I liked Sally. I did. She was sweet, just like the candy shop she worked for. But there was just something…off.

My dad and her, they were great together. Dare I say cute, even (and since I did dare say that, don't you dare tell anyone). They had a mad passion for English which I would never understand and they just clicked.

On the other hand, Sally had a son. One who was a bit...well, sketchy. I'd never met Sally's son, Percy, not once in the year or so that I'd known her. Paul insisted he was a good kid, even having only met him a few times. Apparently, he spent a lot of his time at some summer camp with his friends. I was pretty sure summer camp was meant for summer. I thought the term was a bit self-explanatory. Maybe I was wrong. Considering it was April at the time of the wedding and Percy was where? Still spending every moment he wasn't at Goode High at the summer camp.

Sally also seemed a bit evasive. My dad, Paul, he'd tried to bring up the subject of Percy's father loads of times. The question was avoided like the Black freakin' Plague. Every time he brought it up, Sally would purse her lips and say, He was a good man. Then, bang, end of conversation, and we'd be talking about Project Runway or blue food (Really? Blue food? I'd have to ask about that). It was really sketchy. I was starting to think he was part of the mob or something.

Despite those things, Sally was great. I was happy for my dad. Sally would never replace Mom, that was for sure, but Dad deserved a second chance at happiness.

But there was still think sinking feeling that screamed, Don't go to the wedding!

Of course, there was no getting out of it.

Apparently, Percy's girlfriend was coming to be the flower girl or something, and I was supposed to provide the rings, which I was about eighty-two percent sure were on my work desk at home. Or I hoped.

So there I stood, fixing my tie, running my hand through my now-short dark hair. Dad insisted I get it cut, which was absolutely terrible. I had put my contacts in my navy blue eyes because Dad said I looked more "formal" without my glasses, to which I snorted and said, 'Whatever, Dad'.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start with a bit of background, shall we?

Okay, so my name is Mitchell Blofis, but everybody just calls me Mitch. I'm sixteen years old, a year older than Sally's son.

I'm an average guy, dark hair, blue eyes, athletic build from my years on the basketball team and being a sprinter in track. My grades average from C's to A's, but mostly B's. I have ADHD, which leads to the C's and B's. I mean, they honestly expect me to sit through seven forty-five minute lectures a day (lunch and study hall didn't count, but they were still torture) and pay attention to them all. Nuh-uh. No thank you.

I'll come right out and say it. At Goode High School, I'm popular. I suppose it comes with the territory of playing sports and being good at them. I had a wide range of friends from the jocks, to the nerds, to the debate team, to even a few of the outcasts. I'd been talking to this one girl for a while, typical blonde cheerleader. She was sweet and I could see getting a high school relationship out of it, but not much more.

On to more important subjects.

I had a…strange childhood to say the least. I saw a lot of weird things that were consequently unexplainable at the time, and still are for that matter.

In kindergarten, I saw a dog on the playground. You're probably thinking, Wow, a dog, you're so special, you little brat! But this dog was huge. The size of a miniature pony, at least. Big, black mastiff, red eyes. No one ever believed me.

Then, in fifth grade, I saw a lady with snakes as feet. Or something. I literally have no other explanation for what I saw.

It was just little incidents like that that drove me insane.

No one ever believed me. I suppose there's no reason for you to, either.

But, hey, believe me or not, I know what I saw.

So this is a fair warning to all of you out here who have seen what I've seen. Keep your distance. Don't ask questions. Stay to yourself and you won't be bothered. If I'd done that, I'd certainly be better off.

And if you want to continue, go on, be my guest. But I warned you, fair and square.

So let's go back a bit, shall we? About a year before the wedding. It all started in that stupid candy store, Sweet on America…


It was September. I'd just turned fifteen. I was going to Goode Middle School. It was the second week of freshman year. Everything was going fantastically. I had friends in my classes and my dad, Paul, was getting paid well. He decided it was a nice day to go out and grab some candy for acing my English test and my birthday, which had been the day before.

We walked to Sweet on America, a candy shop that was notorious for its sweets. The place was heaven to both me and my dad.

Upon entering, the smell of chocolate and licorice wafted into our noses. I took a deep breath, savoring that first whiff. The shop looked empty for the most part, aside for Mrs. MacGregor, a sweet old lady who lived in my building and the lady behind the counter.

The lady behind the counter was the same lady that was always there, and I was starting to think that my dad had her entire work schedule panned out. She had long brown hair, with a few streaks of gray in it. Her blue eyes always sparkled with kindness that brought a warm pull to my stomach. Her name was Sally. And my dad had been crushing on Sally since the first time he saw her.

If you're a kid with a single parent, you have to know how awkward it is when your mom or dad finds someone new. It starts innocently and they run by their level of attractiveness.

Example: me and my dad's first conversation about Sally, the candy store lady.

My dad: What did you think of the woman behind the counter?

Me, mouth stuffed with chocolate: *unintelligible grumbling*

My dad: Mitch, I can't understand you.

Me, clearing my throat: I said, she was nice. Why?

My dad: She was pretty cute, huh?

Me: Dad, she's like forty.

My dad: I'm like forty.

Me: Point taken.

My dad: So? Should I ask her on a date? I didn't see a ring.

Me, with a blank expression: You looked for a ring?!

My dad: I might have.

Me: Dude, that's creepy.

I'd continue, but I'd say you got the idea.

So, I rifled through the candy as any fifteen year old would, grabbing armfuls of chocolate and lollipops and jawbreakers. Anything that was straight sugar caught my attention. I'd filled two bags of me and my dad's favorite candies and headed to the counter.

To no one's surprise, my dad was already there, chatting with Sally. Sally was laughing at something he said and my dad was grinning like Christmas had come early. I rolled my eyes and set my bags on the counter.

Sally offered me a wink as she began to scan my things.

"Oh, Sally, this is my son, Mitchell. He's a year older than Percy, I believe."

I narrowed my eyes at my dad. Introductions…never a good thing.

"Can you believe we're in the same writing seminar and I never noticed?" my dad continued.

"Wow," I drawled, "A true shock."

He flicked me in the head. "Be polite." He shot me a warning look. "Teenage boys, right?" my dad said.

"Don't have to tell me twice. I'm sure they'd get along great."

"Who would get along great?" I asked. And then I wished I hadn't.

See, I hadn't known what I'd be getting myself into when I met Percy. I pictured a sweet kid, just like his mom. Boy, was I wrong. I was wrong on so many levels. Of course, I wouldn't meet him for a year or so yet, but still. Still.

Sally smiled at me. "You and my son, Percy. He turned fourteen in August. How old are you, Mitchell?"

"Mitch," I automatically corrected. "And I'm fifteen, as of yesterday."

"Well, happy birthday, Mitch! Here, have a sucker on me." Sally beamed at me as she held out a large lollipop. I grinned. Maybe Sally wasn't so bad after all…

"Thanks!" I looked at my dad for confirmation and he grinned, a twinkle in his eye. From that moment, I knew I was screwed. Completely and irrevocably screwed. It was only a matter of time before Dad made a move, I could see it already.

And he did. A week later. The two went on a date. And another. And another. And a whole lot more until there we were, and he'd proposed, and the wedding was about to happen.

I couldn't say I was surprised, not really. I was happy for them, I was. I missed my mom, but she wasn't coming back, so who was I to get in the way of my dad's happiness?

So, of course, I told Dad I was okay with it. He was so excited and I didn't regret a thing.

That was before I met Percy Jackson.

And that's a story you'll want to hear.

Because it all started with that little frick.