Problems (Percy Jackson Fanfic)

Chapter 8~ Frank

Ugh, today I feel like not doing anything, but I'm making this chapter so be happy people!

READ THIS READERS, unless you think I'm incredibly boring and decide to skip this no matter what I say.

Readers...my amazing crazy lovely readers.

I don't know if it was because not many people have read it yet or what. Pfft, idk.

But I'd absolutely love it if you comment what POV you want when I ask.

I know some of you have and I'm grateful.( Bookwormgirl Greenninjagal, and possibly others,thank you my homies!)
I really want to know who's POV I should write next.

This chapter I want at least 10 comments talking about whose POV you want.

Not 10 comments from each person, one comment from at least 10 people.

I'm not going to post the next chapter, if I don't get 10 comments concerning the POVs.

Muhaha >:)

And just to make it fun (more for me than you-) I'll take all your usernames (those who comment on this chapter) and put them in a hat.

(If I find a hat in my messy room)

I'll pick out a username and I will have a shout out for you in this book! I will ask a bunch of people to follow you and read your stories.

I'm writing the next chapter on the majority of who wants what POV.

If you've read all of that write "Frank=Awesome koi" in the comments.

I seriously doubt most of you actually read this long authors note.

But if you did thanks. :)

Franks POV

I wake up feeling miserable.

I still can't believe she's gone. I sit up in bed and rub my face.

She is gone forever Frank so just realize it and deal with it.

I take a deep breath and get out of bed and walk down stairs. Each step I take seems to echo in the giant house.

I've been dealing with her..death..better. I haven't cried in a week. Well... I haven't cried in front of anyone.

Is it so wrong for a guy to cry?

I get to the kitchen, still in my pajamas.

Tears usually come when I'm alone, or on the weekends...so yeah, when I'm alone.

My grandma is in the kitchen making breakfast, she looks at me disapproving.

"Wake up earlier next time." Then she goes back to the scramble eggs.

I never seem to please her.

I nod, acknowledging her comment, and grab the milk and orange juice from the fridge.

Let me say a little thing about my grandma...

She ain't the sweetest old lady.

She's tough, strict-like.

That's how she's been ever since my mom...

I look down and grab two glass cups.

I fill one with milk and the other with orange juice.