Ivy's life is a bit of a soap opera. Her father left before she was born. Her teenage mother died giving birth to her; she was raised by her mother's best friend. When something happens that changes Ivy's life forever, she has to go to Camp Half-Blood. Will she ever know who her father is? --Sparrowsong 19:19, December 21, 2009 (UTC)
I was always the type of girl nothing very exciting or interesting ever happened to. I went to school. I had friends, boyfriends, and enemies. I got detention for slacking off, sleeping in class, being late, and pranking the teacher. Until I was fifteen, I was pretty normal.
It was Saturday. My favorite day of the week. I was doing the usual Saturday stuff - lazing around, playing video games, pigging out on ice cream, texting my friends, shoplifting, etc.
"You look a lot like your mom, Ivy," Hannah said.
"She had your same dark hair and brown eyes..." Hannah trailed off.
My mother died giving birth to me. Her name was Claire Katz, and she wasn't much older than I was now. Ever since then, her best friend (Hannah) always took care of me. She often pointed out that I looked like Claire. But strangely, she got sad and sometimes didn't even answer when I asked about her. She hates to talk about my father, too; she won't even tell me his name.
"Ivy, you have every right to hate your father," Hannah once said to me, when I was about nine or ten. "It's partly his fault that Claire died."
And I did hate my father. I didn't know him and probably never would, but I hated him for leaving my mother and I hated him for being the reason that I existed. I hated myself, too. I wish I never existed. If it weren't for me, Claire wouldn't have died. If anyone, it should have been me that died. Poor Claire. She was too young to be having a baby. She was just a kid, really. And now she is dead.
"I'm going to go out and garden, okay?" my godmother announced. "You know what to do if there's an emergency."
Those were Hannah's last words.
"Ivy, can I watch TV with you?" Amber asked.
Amber was Hannah's eleven-year-old daughter. Her father left before she was born, just like mine. It was easy to forget that we weren't real sisters.
"Sure," I replied, turning on Gossip Girl.
All of a sudden, we heard a piercing scream. We ran outside to see Hannah, lying in a pool of blood. Her eyes had rolled back into her head, her face was turning blue, and there were claw marks all over her body. And a huge wound in her chest. I could see her organs.
Amber screamed and started crying.
"Mom!" she wailed. "No!"
I gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder, but it didn't help much. I was crying, too, for the first time in years.
Since our house was out in the country, we lived very close to the woods. That might have been where the animal that killed Hannah came from. What was it, though? A wolf? A bear? A coyote?
We buried Hannah by some trees and flowers. She would have liked that; she was always very outdoorsy and loved nature. On the gravestone I made for her, Amber and I wrote "R.I.P. Hannah Rebecca Mizrachi. Loving mother and friend. You will be missed. January 13, 1976 - June 1, 2009."
After we held an unofficial funeral for Hannah (the only guests being myself, Amber, and some wildlife), we went back to the house. My heart felt like a boulder.
This was awful. Hannah was a good woman. And she was only thirty-three. Who would do this to her, and why? I had a feeling it wasn't just some animal. Five minutes ago, she was alive, and now she was dead. I couldn't believe she was gone.
More hatred for my father burned in my veins. I could feel it, boiling in my blood and turning what was left of my heart to ice.
Yet another reason to hate him. He wasn't here to save Hannah. He should have died, not her. Just like how I should have died on May 7, 1994 instead of Claire.
"What are we going to do, Ivy?" whimpered Amber.
I hugged her.
"I don't know," I whispered. "I don't know. I...I guess we should run away now."
She nodded and wiped her eyes.
"Mom," she blubbered, packing her things.
I shoved my makeup bag into my backpack, along with clothes and food and everything I could think of that we would need. Just before we left, I also shoved a picture of Claire and Hannah into there. Claire looked just like me, only she was older and had a baby bump; she must have been pregnant with me. So young to have a child, and so young to die so horribly.
"Let's go," I said, taking Amber's hand in my own.
For a while, we just ran like there was no tomorrow. But soon enough, we were tired and sweaty (not to mention unbelievably devastated over Hannah's death), so we decided to stop.
"Where are we going?" asked Amber.
"I don't know," I answered.
Amber looked upset, to say the least. I didn't know which one of us felt worse about Hannah.
It was hard seeing Amber like this. She was so sweet and energetic. I'm talking about the most cheerful person you ever saw. Normally her big blue eyes would be sparkling with laughter and her honey curls would be bouncing around while she hopped up and down from joy, but she looked sad. It was...well, odd.
"C'mon, let's go steal a car," I suggested.
She stared at me with wide eyes.
"You're joking, right?"
I shook my head.
"Nope, this is serious."
We waited until nightfall. Then we snuck into a parking lot, found an unlocked car, and stepped in.
"Ivy, are you sure you should be driving?" my sister asked.
"Well, no, technically I should not be driving," I responded. "But right now that doesn't exactly matter."
"I agree," she nodded. "We have to find somewhere new to live. Or at least a motel to spend the night."
I didn't answer. I just drove.
"Will they let us check in without an adult?" she asked.
"No, I don't think they would."
"Yeah. They'd be awfully suspicious about an eleven-year-old and a fifteen-year-old by themselves."
I may have been short for my age, but I definitely looked closer to eighteen than Amber did. I guess I could pass with some fake ID and maybe a little makeover. Yeah, some makeup and a new outfit would do it.
I gasped, almost jumping out of my seat. Right in front of the wheel was a fake ID with my picture on it, only I looked older.
"That's suspiciously convenient," I pointed out. "How did that get there?"
"I didn't put it there."
"I know you didn't. Now let's pull over so we can give me a makeover."
"Why do you need a makeover?" she asked.
Sometimes you'd swear she was trying to be a poster child for a dumb blonde.
"To help me pass for eighteen," I replied.
"Oh, alright. You did bring your makeup bag, right?"
"I sure did."
We put so much blush, lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara, eyeliner, foundation, and even shimmer powder onto my face that I ended up looking like a twenty-year-old prostitute.
"I think that's more than enough, thank you," I said, taking the brush from Amber. After fixing my makeup the best I could while still looking older, I started the car again.
I drove around until we found a motel. It was no mansion, but it was good enough to spend the night at.
"You look so gorgeous, Ivy," Amber whispered.
"Really? Uh...thanks, I guess," I answered.
"I mean it," she nodded. "That bright green eyeshadow really brings out your brown eyes. You have really pretty eyes, you know."
"Thanks again," I smiled.
"But they're this sort of really warm color, like chocolate or cinnamon. I'm totally jealous."
She could be quite the motormouth once you got her talking.
I showed the guy at the front desk my fake ID. He gave Amber and I a small room.
"Good night, Amber," I whispered.
"Good night, Ivy," she whispered back.
I locked the doors and windows, turned off the lights, and eventually fell into a fitful sleep. Who could go to sleep easily when their adoptive mother just died?
That morning, I was shaken awake by my sister.
"Ivy! Ivy!" she cried. "There's a thing floating above your head!"
(A/N: Looks like a certain someone's been claimed!)
"You're crazy," I muttered, turning over and covering my head with a blanket. "Go back to sleep."
"No, seriously! Look, Ivy!"
I groaned, sat up, and looked.
Amber wasn't crazy after all. There was a thing above my head. I had absolutely no idea what it was, but it was there.
It flashed, like whoever made it appear was trying to tell me something and starting to get slightly annoyed.
"Okay, okay, I get it!" I exclaimed, swatting at it.
It disappeared, then the weirdest thing yet happened. The phone rang (there was one in the hotel).
I picked it up, thinking it must have been someone with the wrong number.
"Hello?" I asked.
"Ivy, I'm your father," a man's voice said. "We've never met, but I care about you. I can't talk for long, but I will tell you that I loved Claire, and I'm sorry about Hannah. Please try to get to Camp Half-Blood."
I gasped and hung up.
"What was that?!" exclaimed Amber.
"T-Telemarketer," I stammered.
"You're shaking," she pointed out, taking my hand. "Are you sure everything's okay?"
I looked away.
"The person who called said that he was my dad. He wanted us to go to some place called Camp Half-Blood. I hung up because...well, I was pretty weirded out."
"It's probably someone with a mental illness, like Mom warned us about. Oh, I miss her so much!"
She put her head in my lap, which was soon soaked with tears, and I squeezed her hand.
"Shh, don't cry. It's okay, Amber. It's okay, sis."
Amber lay there for about twenty minutes. Then she finally seemed to feel reasonably better.
"The weird thing is that I sort of believed it. I wanted to believe it, like he was really telling the truth. I just can't shake it off, and if this Camp Half-Blood exists, I think we should try to find it."
We checked out, got into our stolen car, and drove off.
An old man on the sidewalk waved his cane at us. He looked very frail and very old, maybe ninety or something.
Ignoring the little voice in my head, I pulled over and rolled down the window so I could talk to him.
"Excuse me, sweetie," he wheezed. "I'm lost. Can you please give me some directions?"
"Sorry, I can't help you. I don't live around here."
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," the old man said. "Would you mind coming a bit closer?"
I came a little closer, even though my instincts were screaming at me not to. At that moment, the old man wasn't an old man anymore. He was...something I'd never seen before. I still don't know what he was, but I can tell you that he had claws and glinting red eyes.
"Die, daughter of the thief god!" he shrieked, lunging for my throat.
I screamed, got back into the car, and sped away panting. I'd been so scared I could feel tears burn my eyes.
Then this dark-skinned girl waved at us. She was a few years older than me, probably a twelfth-grader. She had the curliest hair I had ever seen, and she walked with a strange limp.
"Hey!" she yelled.
I hesitated, but I stopped the car. I know, very stupid.
"I'm Serenity. I'm here to take you to Camp Half-Blood."
"Did...did my dad ask you to do that?"
"No, I have no idea who your dad is. This is my job; I'm a satyr and you're a half-blood. That means one of your parents is a human and one is a Greek god. Now, c'mon, we have to hurry!"
(A/N: OH. MY. GODS!)
I let Serenity into the car (stupid-sounding again), and she drove like a maniac to Camp Half-Blood.
"Serenity," I began, having a natural feeling that I could trust her with my life. "I guess I should tell you my name. I'm Ivy, and my friend's name is Amber. I have a question. Just before you showed up, we were attacked by a monster. He called me 'daughter of the thief god.' What does that mean?"
Her eyes widened.
"It means you're a daughter of Hermes," she replied. "And probably an unusually powerful one. That's dangerous."
I didn't really get most of what she said, but I nodded.
We got to Camp Half-Blood, and they let us watch this video to explain to us what being a half-blood was all about.
Great, I thought. My life is even more ruined now then it was before.
This guy in a wheelchair came over and introduced himself to me. I didn't hear half of what he said, thanks to my ADD. His name was Karen or something like that. Weird; I thought Karen was a girl's name, but I guess it could be a guy's name too.
Karen led Amber and I to one of the cabins. Cabin No. Eleven, since I was a determined child of Hermes (Serenity must have told Karen) and Amber was unclaimed. There were a bunch of people there. Most of them were about my age, but there were some that weren't - the youngest one looked about three years old. So young to have her life ruined like this.
I could feel my legs shaking and the blood draining from my face. I was reclusive by nature, and crowds seriously freaked me out.
"Hey, are you okay?" a guy asked.
"Uh, yeah," I answered. "I'm fine, just that crowds make me a little nervous. I'm not gonna faint or anything, though."
"That's good. I'm Connor."
"I'm Ivy," I said, pretending to find the floor extremely interesting. I always looked at the ground when I was talking to someone I didn't know well. I was probably the most shy person in the cabin.
"Oh, yeah," he said. "I've heard about you. I guess you're my sister."
"I guess you are," I quietly stated. "With me getting claimed and all. It looks like I'm gonna have to get used to having quite a lot of siblings. Back at home, it was just my mom and my sister and I. Before my mom died, anyway." I didn't mention that my real mom died giving birth to me at the age of seventeen.
"I'm really sorry."
I guess he seemed nice enough. I quit staring at the floor and met Connor's eyes for a second. They were a piercing blue, so penetrating I almost jumped. Most of the other kids had those same creepy blue eyes.
"I guess I'll go steal you some stuff. I'll be right back."
I wasn't sure if he was serious when he said that.
I wondered why there were so many freaking campers in this cabin. Nowhere near enough beds for them. It reminded me a bit of when Amber and I were homeless, relying on hotels and stolen cars and fake IDs.
None of the other Hermes kids looked like me. The vast majority of them seemed to be blue-eyed blondes, like Connor, while I was a brown-eyed brunette. Some of them looked a tiny little bit like me, but that was it. I guess I really did take after Claire.
My phobia of crowds was really kicking in. I felt like I was going to vomit.
"I don't feel good, Amber. I'm gonna go get some fresh air."
"Okay," she nodded.
I ran out to the woods, sat down under a tree, and just closed my eyes and relaxed and breathed the fresh air. How good it felt to be away from that huge crowd of half-siblings.
After some time, I opened my eyes and looked at my surroundings. This was the kind of place Hannah would have loved. There were tons of flowers, trees, animals, and even a lake. I didn't want to like it, but I did.
I noticed a boy staring at me. I hadn't seen him around camp, though that may have been because I had only been there for half an hour.
He was older than most of the other campers, with fair hair and pale blue eyes to match. He looked a lot like Connor. I wondered if he was a child of Hermes, too.
Any other girl would have been like "Hi, I'm _________, I haven't seen you around here," but not me. I guess I was just too shy.
Instead, he approached me.
"Hello. What is your name?" the blonde asked.
"I-Ivy," I replied. "Wh-who are you?"
"My name is Luke. I'm your brother."
(A/N: *Gasp* Oh noo, it's Luke! *Secretly drooling fangirlishly* LOL, is "fangirlishly" even a word? Don't worry, Ivy won't just be like "Yay, I'm evil now!" But the Titans definitely have their eye on her as a potential half-blood to recruit, and there is some chance that she will join them. It's not likely, but it's possible.)
"You just got to camp, correct?" he asked.
I hesitated, then I nodded.
"That's good," he said. "The shorter you've been there for, the easier it will be to make you see."
"See what?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.
He came closer, looking me directly in the eyes.
"Ivy, the gods are evil," he whispered.
My eyes went wide and I heard a gasp. That must have been me, since it wasn't Luke and there was nobody else around. I also dropped everything I was holding.
He had just said that everything I had been told was a lie.
"They don't care, little sister. They don't care about half-bloods like us. That's why I have this scar."
If I had been calmer I would have asked how someone not caring about him would give him a scar.
Now that he mentioned it, he did have a pale scar running down his face. It looked like he had been attacked by some kind of animal.
"Hermes, our dad (the one that just claimed you, as in), sent me on this ridiculous quest. He knew how dangerous it was, but he just didn't give a rat's a**. While I was on that quest, I got attacked by a dragon. When I woke up, the side of my face was bleeding, and I've had this scar ever since. It's all his fault, Ivy. If he cared about me in any way, I wouldn't have this scar. I'd just be living a relatively normal life (for a half-blood). It's all because of him."
"Uhh...wow. Hermes sounds like quite the loser."
The air suddenly felt a few degrees colder. I figured that was his way of saying "Hey, that ticks me off."
"Oh, would you shut up for once, Hermes?" Luke sneered. "If you don't leave us alone, you'll regret it."
He turned around and faced me again.
"Sorry," he apologized. "Well, anyway...please, Ivy, join me. Join the Titans. They're a lot better than the gods."
I didn't know what to say. For several seconds, I just stared at him.
What do I do? Join the Titans, or stay here?
"Titans?" I wondered out loud.
"Oh, you don't know who they are? They're sort of like the gods, I guess, but a lot better. They actually care about us. That's why I joined them. I've been there for a while, now."
I still had no clue what I was supposed to say. I just sorta picked a random answer.
"Alright. I'll join you."
Little did I know how much I was going to regret that.
"That's good. You've made the right choice. Come with me, little sister."
He held his hand out and I took it. I let him lead me to a huge cruise ship.
The whole time, the little voice in my head was screaming at me to turn back and forget I ever met Luke. I chose to ignore it.
I was good at ignoring the little voice in my head.
"This is the Princess Andromeda," he explained.
I just hoped there weren't a lot of people on there.
Before you read this and wonder what's wrong with my head, lemme explain something to you. It sounds weird, but it's a true story.
Ok, when I was around seven and Amber was around three, we got robbed. I was just asleep in bed, along with Hannah, when I heard footsteps. I immediately ran downstairs.
All I saw was the back of the burglar's head. He or she had red hair and was never caught.
Ever since then, Hannah and I had shared a phobia of the color red. If we were just at the grocery store or something, and somebody was wearing a red shirt, we'd start screaming. Amber didn't, since she was too young to remember.
I never got over it. And so, I retained my phobia to this day. However, it ended up saving me.
I followed Luke up the steps, my throat tight. I already knew I couldn't trust this guy, but something else bugged me for some reason.
I looked down. Guess what color his shoes were? I'll make this a multiple choice question for you idiots:
If you guessed "c. Red," congratulations. You are not an idiot.
I let out a piercing scream, turned around, and ran like heck. My long brown hair was all over my face, since it was so windy.
Luke ran after me, and I tripped over something. I felt my knee open up.
I looked down. The last thing I saw was the blood oozing out of the wound before I blacked out, leaving me completely at Luke's mercy.
(A/N: Sorry for the short chapter.)