The Day Things Should Fall Into Place
You may have heard stories about demigods — about the monsters we fight, the prophecies that ruin our lives, and the gods who barely pay attention unless the world is ending. Maybe you’ve even heard of famous demigods like Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Jason Grace, Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, and Leo Valdez. They’re legends. People write books about them. They’ve saved the world more times than I’ve saved up for a new pair of sneakers.
But being a demigod isn’t all sword fights and epic quests. It’s messy. It’s dangerous. It’s terrifying. So if you’re hoping this is one of those feel-good hero stories… well, you might want to turn back before it’s too late. If you’re still here — good luck. You’ll need it.
It was a typical Tuesday evening, except it wasn’t. Not for me. Tomorrow was my 13th birthday, and in the world of demigods, turning 13 is kind of a big deal. The gods are supposed to claim you by then — they promised on the River Styx. And yeah, they’ve been better about it since Percy made them swear, but sometimes they forget.
They forgot about me.
Well… maybe. I mean, technically, I’m not their kid. I’m adopted. Percy and Annabeth took me in when I was little, and I don’t have a drop of godly blood as far as I know. But these days, you don’t need a godly parent to be a demigod. Powers can run in families, passed down through generations. And let me tell you — there is nothing more awkward than being the only one at the dinner table who hasn’t randomly summoned lightning or blown up a toaster with your brain.
I keep telling myself it doesn’t matter. I’m going to Camp Half-Blood either way, and I’ll be with family. Percy and Annabeth’s kids are going. My cousins — or, well, my uncles’ kids — are going too. (We’ve got a weird family tree. Don’t ask.) Aunt Rachel is still the Oracle, and if I’m lucky, we might even get a visit from Aunt Thalia. That is, if she and Reyna can stop pretending they’re not dating.
So, yeah. This might be the best year at camp yet. At least, for my generation.
I shoved another hoodie into my suitcase, sat on it to make it zip, and glanced at the clock. Percy was at Olympus — something about another monster attack. (Typical.) Annabeth was in the next room, helping the kids pack. She’d probably come to check on me in a few minutes.
My heart pounded in my chest. I wasn’t nervous. No way. I was excited. I’d been waiting for this forever — real sword training, climbing the lava wall, my first campfire. Where there’s a campfire, there’s Uncle Leo, and where there’s Uncle Leo… well, let’s just say it’s a good idea to sit near the exit.
I grabbed my Camp Half-Blood shirt off the floor — a hand-me-down from Percy. It was soft and faded, with a hole in the sleeve where a hellhound had tried to eat him once. I pulled it over my head and checked my reflection in the mirror.
I didn’t look like a hero. I looked like… me. Dark hair, wide eyes, and a million questions.
But maybe that was okay. After all, I had a whole summer ahead of me. A summer where anything could happen.
And if I was lucky, maybe this time… something finally would.