Disclaimer: I do not own the PJO series. I only own my own ideas, and the materials, weapons, and characters that I put into my stories.

Authors Notes: This is my first fan fiction! Sorry if it' s bad... This character is an O/C... hope you like it!

Those who first glance at an orphans life tend to jump to conclusions. No, we don't all have trust issues (in fear of abandonment) or mope around all day and wallow in our sorrows. Hell, if you ask me, I might even say I prefer the orphan life. Living in small orphanage of ten children (including myself) where the kids knew personal space was a gift. I could sit in our room, read books for God knows how long, be called to dinner, then left alone quietly to continue reading without any interruptions. I consider myself to be a loner.

St. Mary's Orphanage was located in the middle of two of the most expensive restaurants in Manhattan. It was a small, yet a functional old house. It consisted of three floor: the first floor was the kitchen, the living room, and Ms. Vanderbilt's room, the second belonged to the seven rambunctious boys, and lastly the attic which was home to myself and two other girls. St. Mary's was definitely no five star hotel, but I've learned to love it's squeaky floors and tasteless wallpaper. A home is a home.
I was spread out lazily on my bed, my head dangling off with a book in hand. The walls of our room were a rusty green color with multiple posters of Justin Bieber and Cody Simpson hanging all around (placed by the other girls, of course). As I turned the page there was a soft knock on the door.
I cleared my throat and called out to the guest, "Come in." The door slowly peaked open and a Brown mess of curls popped in.

"Ms. Vanderbilt wants to see you," Harry mumbles quietly,"and she said to get dressed and packed." I mutter a quick thanks and rush to get dressed. When the door shuts I throw on some old worn down blue jeans and a white v-neck shirt. I quickly brush through my brown wavy hair, slip into my black shoes, and then grab a backpack throwing in a few pairs of clothes and my favorite copy of the Count of Monte Cristo.

I make my way down the creaking stairs to the living room where Ms. Vanderbilt was waiting was waiting with a pretty, young girl. The old lady gives me a small smile.

"Good evening, Ms. Vanderbilt." I give her and the girl next to her a small smile.

Ms. Vanderbilt gives a disapproving sigh. "Still in bed at such an hour Miss. Amarantha." She says playfully with a smile on her face. The girl next to her clears her throat quietly. She had blue eyes that seem to change in the light and black hair. Ms. Vanderbilt adds with a large smile, "Ah, yes. This is Katie Gardner, your new foster mom." I could almost feel my stomach fly south for the winter. The girl looked hardly eighteen and couldn't possibly be able to care for a child. Not only that, but most children are adopted at a young age and I was now fourteen, an age where children are rarely picked. And then there was also the thought lingering in the back of my head: why me? I've never been your average kid. Never into to the things "normal" teenager's want or did. I was simply the outcast.

"Cool," I say slowly trying hard to bury my emotions. The next hour flew by in a breeze. Katie rushed through the process of adoption and then quickly hurried me out the door mumbling about no time.
As we climb into the car, the tip of a blade peaked out from under her jacket. My eyes widen and she locked the door.

"Holy shit!" I yell, pressing up against the window, "Why the hell do you have a knife!" Her eyebrows furrow together and she continues to focus on the road.

"Oh my God. I've been adopted by a psychopath!" I shout as we swerve in and out of traffic.

Beads of sweat drip off her forehead as she turns to me. Her blue eyes infuriated and shouts back, "Will you shut up? This isn't as easy as is looks!"

I feel my eyes widen more. "You mean you can't drive?" I cry out panicking.

She gives me a grin, "I've been sixteen for about two months. But-" she says pressing down on the gas. "-I think I'm getting a hang of it!"

"Not even close," I exclaim exasperated, closing my eyes.

She frowns. "What's wrong with my driving?" My jaw drops. What was wrong with her driving?

"Nothing," I sigh in defeat. She smiles and we continue driving for a few minutes. We stop at the bottom of a hill and she demands me to get out.

"Why are we in such a hurry?" I said my voice quivering a little.

"You have a strong aura, we're being followed, come on!" She urged. We're being followed, her words repeated in my head. We're being followed- by what? A horrifying howl answers my question. From the noise I can tell it was some distance away still, but would be here soon.

My heart was beating rapidly inside of my chest as we ditched the car and sprinted up the hill. Another howl was heard this time louder, closer. Whatever it was it was gaining on us.

As we neared the half way point of the hill Katie 's foot was caught on a root and she tripped and fell. She cursed in another language.

"Broken," she says pointing to her ankle. I help her up and let her lean on me for support. I heard the rustling of car scraps and know that the beast has found the car.

I reach into Katie 's jacket and snatch her knife, ignoring her complaints, and turn around. The thing stands only ten feet away sprinting fast. It's a large mutated Dalmatian, almost. It's teeth hang out of it's mouth and red liquid oozes from it's snout. When the dog is only a couple feet away from me my instincts kick in. I push Katie to the side and roll to the other. I pop up fast an implant the knife into the Dalmatians eye. It cries out and backs away to regain it's strength. This gives me enough time to haul myself and Katie over the hill.

When I cross the top of the hill I turn around and find myself face to face with the creature. I let out a small gasp in fear, but it does not pursue. It smells the air and let's out a defeated howl. The last thing it does before running off is look at me with one bloody eye. I feel a shiver creep down my spine and I get the message. In his eyes was pure determination and hunger for his prize- me. This was certainly not the last time I'd see the dog.

I gulp slowly and suddenly feel the need for a long nap. I feel a strong hand grip my shoulder and gasp, scared of another attack. I spin around fast and breath heavily at the boy.

"You're okay now," his voice is soothing and calm. I look into his stormy grey eyes and am reassured. I nod slowly. My eyes wander around till I find Katie, someone already working on her ankle. I try to protest but am over come by dizziness. The last thing I remember before falling is the haunting message I received in the beasts eyes; death.

Authors Notes: This will get 10x better, I promise! I'll probably take this to the third chapter (updating WHENEVER I can) and if I haven't got any reviews saying they like the story, I'll discontinue it which I really REALLY don't want to do. So please review!