Here's number six! I Don't own the story ot the characters, i just write stuff about them! (:

I hope wewe enjoy!(:

He looked at me as if he knew I wasn’t lying, but didn’t want to admit it.
“That’s… crazy.” He alisema finally.
“Is it? What’s the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in upendo with humans and having kids with them. Do wewe think they’ve changed their habits in the last few millennia?”
“But those are just-,” he cut himself off and thought for a minute. I think he was beginning to catch on that all of us at camp half-blood were demigods. That the Greek gods and goddesses were real, because if they weren’t none of us would even exist.
“But if all the kids here are half-gods-“
“Demigods,” I told him. “The official term. au half-bloods.”
“Then who’s your dad?” He asked.
I clenched my teeth. Why do people always think that goddesses didn’t fall in upendo with men? Sexist much?
“My dad is a professor at West Point,” I told him. That’s when memories started flooding back into my mind, of my step mother telling me I was no good living if her house and of my father doing nothing to defend me. I got angry. “I haven’t seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history.
“He’s human.” He said
“What? wewe assume it has to be a male god who finds a female attractive? How sexist is that?”
“Who’s your mom then?”
“Cabin six.”
“Meaning?” I stood up as straight as I could and proudly told him,
“Athena, goddess of wisdom and battle.” He stared at me for a few sekunde with a sarcastic grin on his face.
“And my dad?”
“Undetermined, like I told wewe before. Nobody knows.” I told him that, not knowing that soon everybody would know he Percy Jackson truly was.
“Except my mother. She knew.” He alisema confidently.
“Maybe not, Percy. Gods don’t always reveal their identities.”
“My dad would have. He loved her.” I gave him a look that said, ‘I don’t want to burst your bubble so let’s just go with that.’
He didn’t know that he may never be determined. He may never fully know who he was. I felt grateful that Athena had claimed me.
“Maybe your right. Maybe he’ll send wewe a sign. That’s the only way to know for sure: your father has to send wewe a sign claiming wewe as his son. Sometimes it happens.”
He frowned at that last part. “You mean sometimes is doesn’t?” He asked.
I rain my palm along the rail, thinking about all the kids in the Hermes cabin, hoping that tomorrow would be that day. The siku they would be claimed.
“The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don’t always… well, sometimes they don’t care about us, Percy. They ignore us.” I felt bad, I was almost just flat out saying they was a bigger chance for him to never be claimed then there was a chance for him to get claimed. I may always be a mystery.
“So I’m stuck here,” He said. “That’s it? For the rest of my life.”
“It depends,” I told him. “Some campers only stay the summer. If you’re a child of Aphrodite au Demeter, you’re probably not a real powerful source. The monster might ignore you, so wewe can get away with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world for the rest of the year. But for some of us, it’s too dangerous to leave. We’re year-rounder’s. In the mortal world we attract monsters, they can sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they’ll ignore us until were old enough to cause trouble- about ten au eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, au they get killed off. A few manage to survive in the outside world and become famous. Believe me, if I told wewe the names, you’d know them. Some don’t even realize they’re demigods. But very, very few are like that.”
“So monsters can’t get in here?” He asked. I shook my head and thought of Thaila. “not unless they’re intentially stocked in the words au specially summoned kwa somebody on the inside.”
“Would somebody want to summon a monster?”
“Practical fights. Practical jokes.”
“Practical jokes?’
“They point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortal look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm.”
“So you’re a mwaka rounder?” I nodded and proudly took out my beaded mkufu representing the five years I’ve been at camp. My father’s ring clinked against the beads.
“I’ve been here since I was seven,” I said. “Every August, on the last siku of summer session, wewe get a bead for surviving another year. I’ve been here longer than most of the counselors and they’re all in college.”
“Why did wewe come so young?”
I gritted my teeth and clenched my fathers ring so hard it left white marks on my fingers. I remembered sitting in the alleyway holding my hammer, the only weapon I had, really tight. I remembered wondering if I’d live another day.
“None of your business.” I told him.
“Oh.” He said, standing there playing with his fingers. “So… I could just walk out of here right now if I wanted to?”
“It would be suicide, but wewe could, with Mr. D au Chiron’s permission. But they wouldn’t give permission until after the summer session unless…” I trailed off, thinking about how I, so much, wanted a quest. I wanted to prove to everyone that I was a hero, that I could survive anything.
“Unless?” He asked with hope in his voice.
“You were granted a quest. But that hardly ever happens. The last time…”