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Annabeth Chase stared at her copy of American History, trying to decipher the words that were changing form before it was her turn to read.

Her teacher knew that she had dyslexia and gave her so many mercies because of it, including a printed version of the textbook written in Comic Sans. While that may seem like an idiotic gift, it has saved her and her pride multiple times these last few days.

But today Today Annabeth was stressed. And when she was accentuated, it would be a gods-damn miracle for her to read. She hated that about her. How could someone so intelligent only have learned to read Charlotte's Web about a month ago, with more help from audiobooks than she would like to admit?

"Alright, Annabeth," said Mrs. Smith, a petite woman with blond hair in a bun. "It's your turn. Remember, you can always use the audio."

But Annabeth would never use the audio. At least not in class.

No, here she'd figure out the lines herself.

"It, um," Annabeth started, already stumbling on the words. "It lasted... nine years i-instead of s-sev... seven years."

Mrs. Smith smiled. "Good, now who here can tell me more about the French and Indian war?"

She rambled on and on as Annabeth zoned out and stared at the tattoo embedded on her wrist.

It was a wave, looking as if it were about to crash onto her arm and seep into her palm. She didn't really know how she would find her soulmate based on if the guy likes the ocean or not.

She doubted she would ever find her soulmate. Not at the rate she's going about life. C's and D's on her report card in most classes, except electives with an architect as a father, isn't exactly the most ideal situation anyone wanted to be in.

She began to lightly tap her fingers on her desk as she waited for the bell to ring. Language Arts always felt like the most prolonged class period, with all the reading and analysis.

She cried with happiness when she got the standard class. While that wasn't exactly ideal for someone with dyslexia, she was more than okay to not be forced into two language classes and opt-out of one of her electives. Besides, Annabeth was judicious and incredibly resourceful.

She used audiobooks to memorize words and used a word to text platform to write them down. By then, she called Magnus and asked her how it was spelled. She remembered the spelling by learning the way Magnus said it was spelled.

It takes about an hour to learn a specific word that way.

She looked back at her tattoo, admiring the different shades of blues and greens.

"Annabeth, can you see me at the end of class, please?"

Shit, shit, shit.

A wave of murmurs and laughs spread across the room.

Annabeth nodded and continued to tap her fingers to a rhythm, this time much faster than before.

"Hey, Annabeth," said Mrs. Smith. "I just wanted to look over your grades and I noticed that you have a C."

Annabeth's brows creased. "How bad is it?"

Mrs. Smith laughed. "It is 78%, and I am aware of the hardships of writing an essay to improve these grades. Would doing a visual project be easier for you?"

Her face lit up. "Yes, it would be much easier!"

"Great. I have been asking all my dyslexic students this, I'm not too worried about the other kids."

Other kids.

Annabeth hated that saying. It was as if people were trying to call her out. Call her out about not being "normal."

"That was all I wanted to ask you. Progress Reports are in by next Wednesday, and I just want to raise that grade up."

Annabeth smiled. "Thank you."

"Of course, now the bell is about to ring, so give your next teacher this pass, will you?" She handed Annabeth a piece of paper with the room number written on it.

"Right," Annabeth said. "Thank you!"

"Mmhmm."

Annabeth sat alone at the table. Thalia always sat with her other friends, and she was Annabeth's only friend.

It didn't help that today was burger day. The smallest slices of soggy bread atop a burnt patty and artificial cheese were not the most delicious meals. The only perk was the fries.

She chomped on the apple the lunch ladies forced her to buy and picked up her sketchbook.

She flipped through all her designs: houses, sets, monuments, and government buildings.

She stopped on the house based on Greek architecture, her dream house. It wasn't finished despite the various markings and measurements on the pages. In fact, she just finished the exterior. The interior was a whole other level of a challenge.

Nonetheless, she continued. She marked the rooms and each room's size on the first floor; she even started to add small tables and beds before she was interrupted.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" said a confident voice with a British accent.

Annabeth looked up to see a girl with fair skin and caramel hair with red streaks flowing through it. The girl raised a brow, awaiting an answer.

Annabeth noted the combat boots, leather jacket, and headphones in her hand. "Are you a skater?"

"Yes, why?"

"There's a group of them over there." Annabeth lazily gestured toward the group of gothic skaters on the far side of the cafeteria.

"Right." The girl looked Annabeth up and down before going to sit with the group.

Annabeth sighed. She shouldn't have missed the opportunity to talk to someone new, for once. The only person she really spoke to was Magnus, and he had his own group of friends.

She groaned softly and went to her locker to put her sketchbook away.

She took out her newly changed schedule; her next class was with Mr. Blofis, immense mercy compared to the other English teachers. The one she had before had completely ignored her when she mentioned dyslexia.

She'd seen what Mr. Blofis did in his classes during passing. So much more visual than any language arts class she'd ever seen.

Nevertheless, she didn't get her hopes up. Not when she was the most nonpareil person anyone could think of.

Annabeth sighed as she opened her locker. The only decorative item there was a picture of Magnus and her from the summer.

The rest of her locker was a mess of books and folders and random designs she'd shoved in the cyan storage unit.

She fished out her Geometry homework from a few periods ago.

Given: m∠4 is congruent to m∠1 and m∠1 is congruent to m∠6

Prove: m∠4 is congruent to m∠6

Annabeth snorted. It was such a simple question, despite the amount of time it took to read it.

The only problem was attempting to spell transitive property of congruency.

Transitive property of congrunsy, congruncy, cong...

After about five minutes, she gave up. She'd scan it and upload it to some sort of document later.

She shoved the homework back into her locker as the bell rang and began the trek to Mr. Blofis's class.

"Good afternoon, everyone," said Mr. Blofis above the clamoring students. "Please start thinking of everything you know about the Soulmate Phenomenon. We will need that for today's lesson."

Annabeth sat in the corner beside a window. It didn't matter how visual this class might be; there was no way in hell she would pass it.

Still, she sighed and let her memory stir, allowed herself scour for the information embedded deep within her brain.

She had just begun to think of a few points when she felt a small tug at her hair.

Annabeth turned to scowl at whoever pulled her hair when she saw the black Tibetan Mastiff happily sniffing around her.

"Shit," said a male voice. The dog turned and went to affectionately lick who spoke. "I'm so sorry about her."

Annabeth looked up to meet the sea-green eyes of the stranger. She looked the stranger up and down, noting the messy hair and smile laced with sympathy and guilt.

"It's fine," she said. "But why did you bring your dog?"

He let out a small laugh. "She's an emotional support dog."

"Oh."

Ringing assaulted her ears as the electronic bell blared through the classroom.

Annabeth drew her attention to the front of the class as the girl in front passed papers back.

The girl met Annabeth's eyes. Not just a single color, but a multitude of them. It didn't take long to connect the dots--This girl was the infamous Piper McLean.

Annabeth was never a fan of Tristan McLean and his various Hallmark movies--none of which were Christmas themed--and over-sold action movies. In fact, the only film she really enjoyed with McLean was an old soap-opera-like movie series.

She recalled the nights she spent with Helen. They'd sneak into the living room to watch the movie with slightly overcooked popcorn and stale candy.

Annabeth passed the papers to the boy behind her after taking a sheet. It was blank.

Annabeth's curiosity peaked when Mr. Blofis drew an arm with a flower on its wrist on the board. It wasn't a good sketch, but she'd never heard of an English teacher drawing.

Mr. Blofis turned to face the class. "I'm sure you are all wondering what you're doing today. Let me enlighten you: We are going to debate. Why are we having a debate? Because this year requires a lot of argumentative essays, and a debate is a great way to persuade people to agree with you. Yes, other factors play into it, but it is very similar to an argumentative essay.

"We're going to start by gathering some ideas. I know this isn't how a real debate works but let's humor each other today. I drew the most obvious one: we're all born with a tattoo. Can anyone else add to that?"

A few hands shot up. "When you kiss your soulmate, you get their name below the tattoo."

Annabeth raised her hand next. "The tattoo can change if your soulmate changes."

Mr. Blofis drew the statements on the board, along with other facts about soulmates.

Eventually, the class debated on how the Soulmates Phenomenon came to be.