Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. (Your Point of View)

Part Three: Tours and Trash Talk

Keep in mind, this takes place during The Lightning Thief!

A tall, athletic looking boy with blonde hair arrived, trailing Lincoln.

He flashed you a dazzling white smile. You noticed his eyes were blue, like the sky above. Amazingly, despite the fact that it'd rained over Long Island for a week straight now, the sun was shining and it was a comfortable 80 degrees, with a slight breeze. His hair was short, and styled up, though you figured if he wore it natural and flat he would still be good looking. He wore an orange Camp Half-Blood T shirt and khaki shorts. A bow hung across his shoulder, and a small cornucopia hung from his belt with a cap on it. He wore a brown leather necklace, decorated with 2 beads.

He was gorgeous.

"Hi," he introduced himself, in a friendly way. "My name is Colby Ambrose. You?"

"Y/N," you replied, blushing slightly. You immediately classified him as friendly, confident, and outgoing.

He flashed you another smile. "New, huh? Don't worry, all of us are at some point."

You shrugged. "Yeah... I'm a little confused."

"She's been easier than some of the others," Lincoln decided.

Not really. Secretly, you were just holding all your questions, doubts and confusion in. In your crazy life, you had learned to go with it. Eventually, it would work itself out, or make sense. Not much of your life had made sense, though.

Like the time in kindergarten, on a field trip to the zoo, when you had walked into the spider exhibit- though you were deathly afraid of them- and all of them had followed you around, their angry eyes boring through the glass. The teachers quickly ushered you outside and reported it to the keepers. "That's weird," they said. "Never happened before."

It scared all the other children, and freaked out the teachers. "Devil girl," you heard one whisper.

Or the time that a coated man had gone to your school, and had been caught walking through the hallways on the way to your classroom. When he was asked to leave, he hissed, but left relatively cooperatively.

At this point, people had begun to call you a freak. You were always in trouble, you were always seeing things, and your grades were low. You had ADHD and Dyslexia, and were a teachers worse nightmare.

In 2nd grade, one night, there was a figure at your apartment window, beckoning for you to come out. Screaming, you bathed into your fathers bedroom. Worriedly, he called the police, but when security cameras were checked, there was no trace of anything. "It's your imagination," my dad said.

"Perhaps you should take her to a child psychologist," a policeman said nervously.

After 3rd grade, the school had been put up with you, and you'd been attending a new one every year. They described you as impulsive. Not to mention, without a mom, it felt hard sometimes to get the right guidance. Dads just don't always get it.

In your 6th grade classroom, your teacher absolutely hated you without a reason. In fact... she'd become...

That evil beast, with a lion head and wings, claws and a tail...

You shuddered.

"You okay?" Colby asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

You smiled up at him, and hoped he couldn't see through you. "Yeah."

If you couldn't fit in anywhere else, how could you fit in here? You were such a freak.

"Just trying to process things," Colby said. "It's a lot, I know. Just let it sink in."