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Life is something that changes drastically from day to day. No one ever knows what to expect.
Marlowe didn't expect her life after death to be pretty similar to the one she just lived.
Kids screamed on the school bus around her, arms and other limbs reaching up and over the seats. They threw crumbled up paper balls in the air and across the moving vehicle.
One of the paper balls just managed to hit Marlowe in the face, which resulted in her screaming as she jumped out of the seat.
Everyone turned to look at her, giving her glares or weird stares.
"Marlowe Whitlock," a female voice called from the front of the bus.
Marlowe looked up, seeing an older woman in a gray turtleneck and black leather jacket. Her gray hair was twisted back into a clip, some of her bangs falling out and swooping across her face.
"Yes ma'am?" Marlowe responded, her voice weak. She felt like crouching down in her seat and disappearing from view. She didn't know where she was or who these people were, but the woman calling her name looked so familiar.
"You must learn to keep your voice down. The driver needs to focus," the older woman scolded.
Marlowe nodded, and slouched down, pressing her knees against the seat in front of her.
"Don't sweat Mrs. Dodds too much," a male voice said from above her. "She likes to ruin everyone's lives. Except for Nancy Bobofit," he said, muttering the last part to himself.
Mrs. Dodds? Nancy Bobofit?
Those were fictional names. They didn't exist.
Marlowe smiled up at the boy in front of her. She noticed his features: black hair, sea-green eyes, tan skin.
"Thanks," she said, her brows furrowing slightly. Marlowe couldn't decide if she could freak out or not. Had the gods really listen to her prayer? "I'm Marlowe." She held her hand up.
The boy smiled, reaching over the seat and shaking her hand. "I know. We've been in class together the whole year."
"Oh," Marlowe said, retracting her hand from embarrassment. "I just don't think we've been properly introduced."
The boy laughed at her, but not in a rude way. He found himself smiling at the blush covering her cheeks. "I'm Percy," he said. "Percy Jackson."
Marlowe stared, wide eyed, at the boy in front of her. There is no fucking way.
Percy chuckled nervously, before waving a hand in Marlowe's face. "Uh, hello? Are you okay?"
The blonde shook her head, forcing herself out of a trance. She hadn't realized she was staring for that long.
It just seemed so unreal. She just met the Percy Jackson. The gods must have really felt pity for her if they brought her to him.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm just a little...tired," Marlowe said cautiously.
