Chanel Hastings & The Treasures of Aphrodite Book 1: The Magic Girdle

Chapter 1. I Almost Lose A Staring Contest With A Creepy Bird

Outfit of the Day (OOTD): My school uniform

Makeup: Muted pink eyeshadow, some eyeliner, and my favorite clear lip gloss

Hairstyle: My signature low bun

Fragrance: 'Viva La Juicy' by Juicy Couture

Dear Diary,

Okay, look, I'm gonna be honest. I'm a total girly girl, but I've never been a "keep a diary" kind of girly girl. I don't have anything against people who do, but I just never really got the point. I mean, why would I want my deepest darkest secrets being written down where someone could find it, and even worse, read it? (Like you're doing right now).

( Yeah, that's right. I haven't forgotten, you privacy-invader!).

But the super awesome therapist I'm seeing right now insists that keeping a diary would be really good for me. She said that it would help me not only sort through my feelings about everything that's been going on, but it would also be a nice way to keep track of all my memories. And I guess I kind of agree...although...not every memory in here is that great.

More on that later.

So anyways, yeah. Here I am, writing in my diary.

Now, where do I begin? Well...I suppose I could start with an intro.

My name is Chanel Hastings, and I'm a 14-year old demigod. Half of me comes from my mortal dad, Theodore Hastings. And my other half, my divine half, comes from a god. Well...more specifically, a Greek goddess.

Sounds cool, right?

Wrong!

Being a demigod isn't nearly as awesome as it might seem. I mean, sure, I get all sorts of special abilities and a spot at a funky summer camp, but all of that is only a small part of what happens. There's the monsters, the bad dreams, the dangerous quests, getting tied up with the gods and their divine family drama...honestly, I would rather just be a regular mortal. It would be way less freaky.

I'll never forget the day when I starting noticing that my life wasn't as normal as I thought...and maybe I wasn't as normal as I thought.

The day started out like any other. It was an early Monday morning in December, about 2 weeks before school closed out for the holidays. After I finished my hair and makeup and got dressed up in my uniform, I sat down alone at the dining table alone to enjoy my favorite breakfast: a cheese and veggie omelette with hash potatoes and a glass of milk. The light from the sunrise filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our penthouse and bathed the entire room in a pretty glow. As I ate my meal and admired the view, I prayed that I would finally have my first good morning since my dad and I moved to Manhattan last August.

Unfortunately, whoever's job it was to answer the prayers of teenagers must not have clocked into work yet, because right at that moment, my future step-siblings came bounding down the stairs to ruin my morning. Gemma, who was a year older than me, snorted as she walked up to the table and noticed my breakfast.

"Geez, Chanel. Slow down on the carbs, will you? You don't want to blow up more than you already have."

I frowned at her. "What do you mean 'more than you already have' ? I'm the same size I've always been."

"That's not a good thing, silly," said Troy, Gemma's younger brother. He settled down at the table across from her. "Try loading up on some fruits and veggies next time."