❝ Does being a Child of Hermes automatically make you good at flirting? Or was that just a skill you picked up? ❞
Andromeda Jackson knew she was not cut out for the demigod life, and that was before she heard about her death from the creepy oracle i...
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𝔗here are times, where you wake up in the morning and realise that every decision you've ever made is completely, and utterly wrong. I don't know how many of you have experienced that, but I was having one of those mornings.
Actually, scratch that. Weeks. I was having one of those weeks.
Firstly, I somehow managed to burn my cereal - don't ask, even I don't know how I managed that - then, I ran out of my dorm room without my keys, nearly missed my bus and almost called a teacher 'dad' in front of the entirety of the class,
It was going super smoothly.
To top all of this off, I was going on a field trip. You might be saying, Andromeda, what's so wrong with a field trip? Let me tell you. I always, always, managed to screw up on a field trip leading me to almost getting expelled. This was going to be no different, I knew it.
But, the good news was it was to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at their new Ancient Greek and Roman exhibit and I was a massive mythology nerd.
Mr. Brunner, the Latin teacher at the fancy pants academy I attended, was leading it, so there was some hope that this would actually go smoothly. For added context, this is the teacher that I almost called 'dad' this morning. The lack of a father in my life was really causing me issues.
In all fairness to me, he really did look like some sort of suburban dad. Mr. Brunner was a middle-aged guy in a motorised wheelchair, with thinning hair and a greying beard. He always spoke in a soft voice, very rarely chastising us and listening to our various mid-life crises that happened on an almost daily basis.
Plus, he had this really cool ability that kept us awake in his class, instead of sleeping through them. So, because it was him leading the field trip, I was determined not to screw it up. But, normally, nothing ever goes my way, as seen from this morning.
All the way into the centre of New York, I managed to ignore Nancy Bobofit (an absolute pest of a girl) hitting the little kid next to me in the back of the head with chunks of sandwich that both looked and smelt revolting.
I didn't really want to be rude and say that Grover was an easy target, but he really was an easy target. The kid was supposedly a genius, which was why he was in the same year as us, but his grades were a hell of a lot worse than mine (and that was saying something).
Plus, on top of being a supposed genius (which was a magnet for bullying), Grover was also crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs but whoever had written that note had obviously never seen him run for enchilada day in the cafeteria, because this kid could move.
