Lytrotís

Chapter 1

Good Riddance Mrs. Dodds 

     Look, I never asked to be a half-blood. Did it greatly improve my life, yes. Did it also endanger it in many, many different ways. Also yes. I would not recommend this to anyone. Being a half-blood means that monsters are constantly after me and I can die by more than one type of metal. If you think this is all fun and games, you can read on. But if you read this and you recognize a part of yourself in me, RUN, close this tab, delete your search history, forget you saw this, and believe whatever lie your "parents" told you. Then maybe, just maybe, you'll escape this life. Do not say I didn't warn you. 

     Now up until this point, I've lived a pretty normal life. Well minus the part with my mom dying, moving in with my aunt, who've I've never met before that, and moving schools every year. The last one might be my own fault. You could even say that I'm a troubled kid, which most people blame my ADHD and dyslexic . Honestly, every time I get expelled, it's not my fault. There is always some other force causing the unfortunate to happen to me. Like do you really think a seventh grader could blow up a bus. No. But alas, I was still blamed. I will continue by saying that none of this is my fault.  Let's roll the story. 

    The day my life went to hell was May 23, 2008. That day I woke up and got ready to go on a field trip with the rest of the ninth grade at Yancy Academy, to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. After getting ready I went to the bus, I sat down in a seat, and instantly fell asleep. It was going to be a long bus ride and I don't do well being bored and we boarded the bus at six am and I went to bed at  twelve am. I was tired, to say the least. The bus ride was going to be a full four hours. Good night!

     Honestly, bus rides go so much faster when you sleep for three and a half hours. Although, waking up to my nemesis, Nathan Bobifit, throwing little chunks of sandwich into my besties hair can affect my good mood. My best friend, Grover Underwood, is too nice. I do love him to bits and pieces but he needs to stand up for himself. He is a ginger, 5'9, has a gumby like frame, and a leg condition making it impossible to run without crutches ( minus enchilada day in the cafeteria. I've never seen anyone  run as fast as he does for enchiladas) and is excused from gym, making him a prime target for bullying.  Actually, the way we became friends is when I stuck up for him to Nathan and his friends. Good times. 

    Back to the situation at hand. Nathan is still throwing chunks of peanut butter and ketchup, I think, sandwich into Grover's hair. One thing you need to know about Nathan, he doesn't take no for an answer.  How would I know this, well, he has been asking me out for almost the entire school year. And every time I say no, he bullies Grover harder. So now I am sitting on a bus, trying not to bitch slap a bitch. Spoiler alert. I lose patience 

     "That's it", I say getting up out of my seat. 

      "Ann, you and I both know you are on probation. Sit your ass down", says Grover, yanking me back into my seat. 

         Me being the three year old I am responds with "Whyyyyyyy. He deserves it". 

        "He may, but is he really worth being expelled for", Grover the voice of wisdom responds. 

          "Fine", I say going back to pouting. With each chunk that hits Grover my temper flares a little more. I put my ear buds in and try to ignore him. We eventually make it to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I help Grover shake the peanut butter from his hair, stepping on the seat to get it all.  The leader of the field trip Mr. Brunner, a man in his late 40's and is stuck in a wheel chair, is leading the way off the bus. Mr. Brunner teaches our latin class, every so often he has these fun tournament days where he brings out real swords and shields and has us rapid fire facts about Greek mythology. I almost always win. It's one of the few school subjects I like.