Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! Percy Jackson and the Olympians is the amazing work of Rick Riordan, not me!

Chapter I: My Pre-Algebra Teacher Turns to Dust

My name is Pythia Jackson.

I know, Pythia, what kind of name is that? So, usually I just go by Perse.

Until a few months ago, I thought I was a normal 6th grader going to Yancy academy. Which is a boarding school in upstate New York for troubled kids.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yes, yes I am. In more ways than you could possibly imagine.

I could show you any point in my life as an example, but last May... Last May was definitely the turning-point of my life. From what could be considered normal, into the odd, weird, and plain-out strange events that were to follow.

My class went on a field trip to Manhattan, all twenty-eight of us, more or less mental-case kids with our two teacher-supervisors. Cram-packed into a yellow school bus. Headed to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at Greek and Roman artifacts.

I know - it sounds like a bore-feast. Most Yancy field-trips are, but my Latin teacher, Mr. Brunner, was heading this trip. So, I had a bit of hope.

At first glance, Mr. Brunner was a normal, middle-aged guy, in a motorized wheelchair. Who just so happened to be an amazing teacher. But, something (I guess you could call it gut instinct) told me there was a part of himself he kept hidden. I just couldn't tell what. Sometimes, when I was really bored, I imagined Mr. Brunner as a rock-star, then got sent to the hall for laughing in the middle of class.

The bus ride there was terrible, I had to deal with Nancy Bobofit. Also known as, my chief tormentor. She was continuously throwing chunks of her peanut-butter and ketchup sandwich into my friend Grover's hair. Normally, I would have stopped after the first piece, but I was on probation. Before we left on trip, the Headmaster had pulled me aside, and warned me, that if any thing, and I quote '...bad, embarrassing, or mildly entertaining occurs...' on this trip, I was to face death.

By in-school suspension, that is.

Even if it wasn't my fault.

Knowing my luck with field trips though, it probably would be. Bad things always happen to me, or around me, on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield. I had this incident with a Revolutionary war cannon. I hadn't been aiming for the school bus, but I got expelled anyway.

Before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes of the Marine-world shark pool. I had one of my 'fainting spells'. Apparently, I hit a lever, and well... We all took a bit of an unplanned swim with the fishes. Luckily, none of us were wearing our favourite pair of cement shoes. Now that would have been a disaster.

"I'm going to kill her." I mumbled, Grover tried to calm me down. "It's okay, I like peanut-butter."

He dodged another piece of peanut-butter.

"That's it." As I started to stand-up, Grover pulled me back into my seat.

"You're already on probation," He reminded me, "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens,"

Looking back on it, I kind of wish I had decked Nancy right then, and there. In school-suspension would've been nothing compared to the mess I was about to get myself into.

Then again, I doubt it would've helped at all.

Mr. Brunner led the tour through the echoing halls. Stopping and talking about every other statue. I tried to listen, but his voice was drowned out by the other students talking and Mrs. Dodds' piercing glare.

Mrs. Dodds was our math teacher. A mean looking (and acting) old lady that seemed to have a grudge against me. I don't even know why. She just showed up about halfway through the school year. And instantly she adored Nancy, and tried to make my life a living Hades.

"Hades? Why did I think that?" I mumbled, but before I could think more about it, Mr. Brunner asked. "Ms. Jackson, do you have a comment?"

I blushed red. 'He heard me?'

"No sir." He pointed to one of the paintings on the steles. "Perhaps, you can tell us what this picture shows."

I took one look at the frieze, and instantly knew what it was. At the same time, I could feel one of my 'fainting spells' coming on. I tried to blink it away, and said. "That's Kronos, the king of the titans, eating his kids."

"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

Blinking, I struggled to keep my vision from fading to black. "H-he received... a prophecy... that his children, the gods, would overthrow him. In his fear, he ate them. But his wife, Rhea, hid their youngest child, Zeus."

I clenched my eyes shut, trying to drive the dizziness away, "Instead, giving Kronos a rock to eat. Zeus grew up, one day he gave his father a mixture of mustard and-and ambrosia to eat."

The dizziness got so strong I nearly blacked-out, I don't know how but I continued to stand up straight. "Kronos threw up his children, there was a great war, and the gods won." I looked him in the eyes, then quickly looked away. His eyes… They had this feeling to them, old and weary, like he had seen far, far too much. Felt far too much, and was just bracing for another blow.

"Pythia—"

"Mr. Brunner, I have to go to the bathroom." I said before racing off. Interrupting whatever he was about to say.

When I reached the bathroom, I had just enough time to notice it was empty (lucky me!), before I blacked-out.

I don't know what happens when I black-out, but whatever it is, causes my Mom to worry every time. When I wake up, she always has a scared look on her face, which turns pasty-white. Sometimes, she even says curse words in Latin, though I don't know how I know that. When I was really young, before she married Smelly Gabe, she made me promise to never have a fainting spell/black-out, whatever they are, in front of anyone.

I haven't broken that promise yet.

Mom, looked so relieved after I made it. I don't want to worry her. She's such a sweet lady, and an awesome mom, but she's got so much on her plate. Just taking that little bit of worry off it is the least I can do.

I was splashing water on my face, something I'll do after a black-out, when I got a gut feeling of...wrongness. There's no other way to explain it. Something was very, very wrong.

"Honey," I jumped, before turning to face the source of the voice. It was Mrs. Dodds. "You've been giving us problems."

"I'm so sorry, I just really had to go to the bath-"

"Did you think you could get away with it?" She said, tugging at the sleeves of her leather jacket. The look she was giving me wasn't just mad. It was evil.

"What do you mean? Get away with what?" I was confused.

The building shook as thunder boomed outside.

"Pythia Jackson," My name came out of her mouth like a death sentence."We are not fools. It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain. Fail to do so, and it will be excruciating." She said, with a sadistic kind of joy.

Found out? About what?

Did the teachers find out about the secret candy stash I had been selling out of my dorm? Was it my internet-found Tom Sawyer essay, and were going to take my mark? Worse yet, force me to read the book?

"Well?" She demanded.

"Mrs. Dodds, what are—"

"You're time is up." She hissed, literally hissed.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow, like burning wood timbers. Her fingers stretching into talons, as her leather jacket expanded into a pair of large wings. She wasn't human. She was a... was a... One look at her mouth full of razor sharp teeth, ready to turn me into Pythia-spaghetti, and the words seemed to echo in my head.

'Beware the teacher in disguise,

Her true-self revealed as the sky cries,

Misled and beseeched with lies,

Upon leathered wings, she will rise.'

She was a fury.

I was going to die.

"What ho Pythia!" Mr. Brunner's shout woke me from my dazed state. Then he tossed me a pen.

Mrs. Dodds, lunged at me.

With a yelp, I dodged. Feeling her talons slash the air beside my ear. I grabbed the ball-point pen out of the air.

Only, it wasn't a pen anymore.

It was a sword

Mrs. Dodds spun towards me with a murderous look in her eyes. I felt a weird twisting feeling in my gut, almost like a whirlpool.

She snarled." Die honey!"

Then she flew, on her leathery wings. She was up, off the ground by at least four feet (I was amazed she didn't hit her head on the ceiling), and she was coming straight at me.

So, I did what seemed to be the most natural thing to me.

I swung the sword.

The bronze blade hit her shoulder, and passed clean threw her body, as if she were made of water. Hiss!

Mrs. Dodds was like a poorly built sand castle on a windy day. She exploded into a yellow powder, vaporized on the spot. Leaving nothing behind but the smell of sulfur, and a chill of evil in the air. As if those two glowing red eyes were still glaring at me, promising pain. Then I noticed...

I was alone.

There was a ball point pen in my hand.

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

And a running faucet.

For a brief moment, I wondered if I had imagined it all. But, just like in Grade 3, when I saw a man in the play-ground with only one eye in the middle of his head. I knew it wasn't.

When I went back outside, it was raining.

I saw Grover, sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head.

"So, what happened while I was gone?"

Grover shrugged. "Nothing much. Mrs. uh, Kerr went to go look for you though."

"Mrs. Kerr?" I asked, we didn't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr.

"Yeah, Mrs. Kerr, our math teacher."Grover responded, but he had paused before saying her name both times. He was looking at the side-walk too. Avoiding eye-contact with me. I thought he was messing about.

"Ha ha, Grover, very funny." I said, "But this is serious."

Thunder clapped over head.

See, even the rain clouds agreed with me.

I saw Mr. Brunner sitting off to the side, near the entrance to the museum, reading a book, under his red umbrella.

I walked over to him. If Grover wanted to mess with me, then fine. Mr. Brunner wouldn't buy into this little game. Besides, he was there, he could explain to me what was going on.

He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Ms. Jackson." I handed Mr. Brunner his pen.

"Sir," I said." What happened to Mrs. Dodds?"

All he did was stare at me blankly. "Who?"

'Mrs. Dodds, the other chaperone."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned.

"Pythia, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling alright?"

If that was so, then what had I seen?