jeychen5

Okay, I know what you're thinking: why would a long forgotten boy band from the nineties reunite just to buy me pizza? Well, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit. The whole story is a whole lot bigger and weirder than that. Let me start from the beginning. It was the weekend after thanksgiving and I was still stuffed like a turducken. You see, my mom just loves thanksgiving—any holiday really—and she always goes all out. I guess it's her way to make up on lost time. When Mom was fourteen see lost her mother and her home. For years she grew up homeless and lived off fish that she and my grandpa caught. That's part of the reason that

You want to know one of the worst things about being a demigod? The nightmares. Sure, there’s being chased by hungry monsters, nearly dying on multiple occasions, and the resentment I feel towards Poseidon for crushing my chances at a normal life, but between all of that pleasantness are the nightmares. By now, I was pretty used to bad dreams. They were usually vague but terrifying—the camp in flames, the mortal world collapsing. Y’know, standard stuff like that. Oftentimes I had dreams from my best friend Hayden’s life, reliving every third life-or-death experience she’d ever face, along with emotions I never

There had to be a name for what was wrong with me. Seriously, whenever I spent time in Bunker Nine, the butterflies in my stomach started to rebel. Maybe there was something wrong in the cave like some magical contraption was sending out weird vibes (like that from the spacecraft in the Tommyknockers), or all the old dust that still lingered around was affecting me, making my heart go all whacky. Sure. Believe that if you want. I wondered if Leo felt the same way, so I asked him during one of our lessons. He looked at me funny, and raised a confused brow in an adorable way, oddly. I noticed the grease stains on his face and clothes and th

Life can be so stupidly complicated sometimes. And not just because there are a million monsters out there who all want to rearrange my face (although that is a major problem). I’ll start from the beginning. I was waiting for the subway to take me to my home in the Upper East Side early morning on February sixteenth. Hayden’s lavender bag hung on my arm and in it was a hot pink gift bag that held the birthday present for my sister, Alana. You see, even though my parents and we weren’t always together, they would always insist that we spent birthdays and holidays together, no matter what. It was their way of making up for