What if Percy, was the son of Hades?

Chapter one

Oh look, you guys will expect me to introduce this story with "I didn't want to be a halfblood." Right? This is what you were thinking, admit it.

Instead I'm just going to say my life has been horrible since the day I was born. Sadly Annabeth always says that you can't explain the plot of a good book in the beginning. What are you waiting for? Just go read my story and hope you won't experience all the horrible things I have.

My name is Percy Jackson, and I'm twelve years old. Everything started the day of that horrible birth. Mine. But I guess the monster trouble happened when my teacher had decided it was a smart idea to bring students to a museum about... art? History? Mythology? I didn't pay attention. Sue me. You all barely pay attention about lectures for field trips your forced to go to in your fancy private schools.

Did I go to a fancy private school? Sure, if you count private schools for troubled kids. Yancy academy. I hated every single second of that stupid school. I'm a troubled kid. I know that. But do you have to remind me every time I enter a room?

See, when I was in the fourth grade, we were supposed to go to this theater to watch a Broadway musical. Instead, I found out a small squirrel had gotten into my backpack. So out of pure panic, I threw it to a random direction. It had hit a student who started freaking out, who threw it at the bus driver, and then made us crash into a graveyard.

For some reason, graveyards follow me everywhere.

That day was supposed to be as horrible as all the other field trips, not worse. Me and my friend Grover, who's the only kid I can stand by the way, were trying to mind our own business while I listened to My Chemical Romance through my earphones.

Let me back up a little. Grover is my friend. He's that kid who's scrawny, who cried when he got frustrated, and probably was held back a bunch of grades. It was easy to tell from the chin hairs forming a small goatee on his chin. He's also crippled and excused from PE for his whole life. But dang he can run fast when it's enchilada Monday.

Grover may be the only kid I could stand, but the only teacher I could stand was Mr. Brunner. He was cool. He let us fight with real Roman and Greek soldier armor at times. I had hopes he would make this a bit exciting.

He disappointed me.
I mean, if I told you how much trouble this school field trip caused, then you wouldn't be surprised.

Back to the story of my miserable life, me and Grover were just trying to relax. But then that (use whatever curse words your parents told you not to say here)  came along.

Nancy Bobofit had freckles that made her face look like a badly decorated cookie. She had red hair and was a kleptomaniac. She threw chunks of her peanut butter and ketchup sandwich at Grover's head. When she hit me in the head, I looked back at her and glared at her. "That's it, I'm going to murder her." You wouldn't doubt me if you could see the circles under my eyes and black 'emo' clothing.

Grover tried to keep me calm. This is why I like the guy, instead of calling me crazy, he just tries to make me not get expelled.

"It's fine, it's fine. I like peanut butter, it's not that bad." He took off the peanut butter and ketchup chunks from his curly hair and put them in a small plastic bag. The guy didn't like to litter, not even on the bus.

Another chunk got thrown at him. "That's it." I stood up but Grover pulled me back down. "Don't do anything. You're already on probation." He was right, if I did one more thing wrong, I'd get expelled. I couldn't disappoint my mom again. But now that I think about it, I wish I broke Nancy's arm right then and there. Expulsion would've been better than what I was going to face.