The Beefy Cow Loses Its Underpants

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Hi! :) I just want to say that our writing has improved over the course of the story, so don't get too upset and frustrated! Thank you for your tolerance and consideration. 

Anyways, one thing I guarantee is that you will laugh/giggle/chuckle/snort/guffaw/however-way-you-laugh at least one point in the story. ;) 

Don't lose faith in us. -Jessie 1/30/2013 

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Jessie

                I bite my lip, praying to whichever-god-that-had-the-time-to-listen-to-me for a good, accurate shot. Perspiration drips down my forehead as my heart's thumps roars in my ears. 

                The arrow is released out of my stiff grip and zips through the air at lightning speed. It lodges itself - barely - on the corner of the bull's eye.

I breathe out a sigh of relief and feel the tension at my shoulders relax a little. My shoulders are mildly sore after being so tight. Hallelujah! It took me years of training to achieve just seven bull's eyes (most of them just Barely-Bull's-Eyes. Did I just say that? You. Heard. Nothing. Now, read on!) I always loved archery. I and my friends admire Artemis a lot, so I concentrate really hard on it. But I'm never as good as the Apollo kids, or Rita, or...Annabeth.

Annabeth Chase, as you may already know, is the senior counselor for our cabin. She's mother's favourite child, of course. Annabeth is so...perfect. Not to mention she's the architect for Olympus (and whenever she walks by, I want to scream "Oh my god, there's Annabeth!” which is pretty pathetic, I know, but she's, like, my idol.) and that her boyfriend, Percy Jackson, is a celebrity in Camp Half-Blood. As I've known her for years, Annabeth loves mathematics and architecture, unlike me. Sure, I really love architecture, but I pay more attention to the arts: Writing, drawing, philosophy, and music. Don't get me wrong, I always ask myself when I notice how my other siblings cast me strange looks, why bother? It's not like I'm a daughter of Apollo or something...but that, does not change my passion towards what I, well, love to do. And why should it? If they say "everyone is different", then surely there's some kind of justice out there for children of Athena who are more verbal linguistic...right?

See, see. My mind wanders from shooting an arrow to ranting about how Athena kids have the right to like different stuff.

"Rita, d'you see that?" I turn to my friend, grinning. She notches another arrow, and the whole world fell away from her. Rita's intent focus was on the target, and how to get another bull's eye. Yes. I said another bull's eye. She is a sport pro, which comes in handy in Camp Half-Blood, since there are a lot of physical activity sessions. I glance at her target. Already a dozen arrows clean on the tiny center dot, and only one or two lodged on the inner rings. I shake my head in amazement. Rita is an Einstein when it comes to sports. She makes archery seem like doing 1+1 (which isn't!).

 I turn to my right, and silently watch May struggle to pull her arrow back. "May..." I sigh, about to tell her that there's no point at all, since her arrow is facing the wrong way. Then, I hear a loud whoop from someone. Hmm...I absolutely have no idea who that might be (emphasis on no idea).

"Ha! In yo' face, Willy Billy!" Jenny taunts. She punches her bow up in the air while doing the neck-rolling thing. Will Solace, the senior camp counselor for the Apollo cabin, rolls his eyes. 

"Whatever," he retorts, and stalks off, muttering something about getting a drink and how it's time to feed his donkeys (I'm not sure about the last one. Hey, he was muttering to himself!). The truth behind getting a drink and feeing his donkeys? I think we all know it. Jenny beat him, again, in archery. 

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