All rights to Rick Riordan
Written by @SuperkittyDaSith
Ari's POV:
Okay. I can do this. I have survived monster attacks. I have traveled across the country on foot. I have, with the help of Bia and Queenie, blown up a Macy's. I can spend the night with Blondie. I mean, he's not the first person who's tried to kill me. And I'm sure he won't be the last. Besides, apparently we're on the same team now.

Cabin One is nice enough, even with the weird design and statue of Zeus. I find a spot to lay down, and take out my fidget spinner. It's neon blue, and it glows in the dark. I spin it a few times, doing tricks with it and seeing how long it'll stay on my finger. My record is about a minute.

"Where are you from?" Blondie interrupts me, causing the fidget to fall off my finger.

"Sorry Blondie, I don't do backstory. However, I am becoming interested in yours. Spill?"

"I don't think we've reached that point in our relationship. And you're blond as well, in case you haven't noticed," he says.

"Whatever. I wear it better. And I think I'm entitled to some sort of biography. You think I haven't noticed how all the other campers respect you? You're some sort of hero to them. Explain."

"Well, I started off as a Roman demigod, hung out there for most of my life, joined the Seven, and defeated Gaea. Decided to become Greek. Not much to it, really," he says. I can tell by the tone of his voice that there's much more to it than that, but I decide not to press any further.

"Sounds nice. The most heroic thing I've done is blow up my high school principal. With Bia and Queenie, of course."

"Sounds exciting. Details?"

"Fine, whatever. She was some sort of monster, I think. We got in trouble once, had to go to her office, and she attacked us. We used our powers. Got in pretty big trouble for murder, and are technically on the run from the police at the moment." That, of course isn't the full truth, but it isn't my story to tell.

"You? In trouble? Gee,  I wouldn't have ever guessed."

"Oh whatever. Bia, Queenie and I met last year when we were chemistry partners. Blew up the lab on accident. Chemicals maybe aren't our specialty. Best friends ever since. And by the way, who are the seven? You mentioned them earlier." I think he's warming up to me. Or me to him. Either way, this isn't the worst.

"Oh, the seven of the prophecy. Me, Leo, Percy, Annabeth, Piper, Hazel, and Frank. You know, 'seven half bloods shall answer the call?'"

"Um, no. And how do prophecies work, anyways?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Ari. The full prophecy goes like this: Seven half blood shall answer the call, to storm or fire the world must fall. An oath to keep with final breath, as foes bear arms to the doors of death."

"Oh. Okay."

"And as for prophecies, we have the Oracle of Delphi. A spirit, if you will, that speaks prophecy. She's... how to word this... inside another human, then sort of possesses said human to speak the prophecy. It's weird, but you get used to it," he explains.

"And which human is it possessing?" I ask. This seems somewhat important to me.

"Her name's Rachel Dare. She has frizzy red hair, if that helps."

"Uh... sure. So, you got a fancy prophecy and went on a fancy quest to save the world?"

"Yes, pretty much. Not that interesting if you think about it. Now, it is sort of late,  so e should be going to sleep." Whatever you say, Blondie.

"One quick question, though?" I ask.

"Sure."

"What's your name? If we're gonna be friends, I should know your name." For some reason, Blondie finds this amusing.

"Jason. I'm Jason Grace," he laughs.

"Oh. Well, nice to meet you Jason Grace, hero of Olympus."

"Nice to meet you too, Ari, exploder of principals."

"G'night," I say.

"Good night."

I pack my things neatly into my backpack, and take out The Goblet of Fire. I might as well read some tonight.

"Mr. Harry Potter used Gillyweed to great effort—no, effect, not effort. "He returned last, and well outsick—outside—the time limit of an hour. However," Ludo Bagish—Bagman—continued, "The Merchieftaness informs us that Mr. Pottah—ugh it's Potter why can't I read correctly—was the first to reach the hostages, and that his delay in his return was due to his determating—determination—to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own.

That passage alone took me far to long to read. I'll never finish. But that's bravery, that is, rescuing Fleur's little sister. And Jason was brave, too. He's been on countless quests, and risked his life so many times over. And the others trying to kill us earlier? They must all be brave.

I'm not brave. I'm scared of spiders, tiny dogs, water, every little thing. But mostly I'm scared of losing people. Like I lost my best friend.

It was a year ago. A sunny day, not a cloud in sight. Perfect for adventures. I ran over to my friend Shawn's house. Contrary to what everyone said at school, we were not dating. We were simply very good friends. He answered the door when I knocked, his aqua-marine hair practically glowing in the sunlight. He did it for me, the hair. I had cut and dyed mine a month or two before on a dare, and for a while the looks I got were awful. I had always been the quiet type, and quiet types didn't go for the shave-flop. So he had done the aqua, and we were nerds together.

I had practically dragged him out of his house, and we had clambered into our little boat we had made. We raised our tiny sail, and set off in the Columbia. I can't explain what happened next. Clouds gathered around our boat. The wind howled. I tried to steer our boat ashore, but to no avail. The boat turned, and the water churned. Lightning stuck the mast. Shawn fell. I reached for him, diving into the river, but his fingers slipped through mine. The last I saw of him were his blue eyes shining through the murky water.

The girls have told me time and time again that it wasn't my fault, but I knew it was. I could summon storms and lightning, and I must have that day. He was my best friend, and it's my fault he's gone. That's all there is to it.

My eyes are wet, thinking about that day. It's best I go to sleep. I take of my dark purple choker—a friendship bracelet type thing, Queenie and Bia have them too—and set it down. I notice a mark in the leather. Upon further inspection, I see a small lightning bolt engraved in it. My father must have put it there. I smile a little, and then I fall asleep.