Name: Melody Harper
God Parent: Harmonia, Persephone, Iris
Mortal Parent: Keith Harper
Appearance: See model -->
Hometown: Chicago, fostered in upstate New York
Personality: Melody is quite quiet. She prefers to keep to herself. When she does talk, she is sarcastic and snarky. Because of this, she only has one friend. She lets out her feelings through her music. Sometimes, she feels like she is trapped in a bottle, her voice echoing around inside for only her to hear. When faced with danger, she goes with her instincts.
History: She had the most beautiful voice he had ever heard.
When my father met Harmonia, she was singing at a bar in Chicago. She introduced herself as Hallie, and the two fell in love. They had an affair, and three months later I showed up on Keith, my father's, doorstep, with only a note:
This is Melody. -Hallie
My father was very lovesick, at this point. He began to go crazy, and hallucinate that Hallie was next to him. He had nightmares about 'Hallie' dying. He began to scream randomly, or break out into a sweat. He scared me out of my mind. Until I was 5, he was like this. Then, he went to the therapist.
In therapy, he met a woman, who was an addict. She was his age, and after some time she moved in with us. She had an instant dislike for me, and began to hurt me. My father, mentally insane now, was powerless against this. For 3 more years, this was my life. Just when my eight-year-old life could not get worse, everything changed.
The neighbors had started to complain about my father's screams. The police investigated, and charged my father's girlfriend with child abuse. My father was deemed too mentally unstable to raise me anymore. I didn't protest when they put me into foster care, somewhere in upstate New York.
My foster parents loved me and cared for me, but, in agony, I shut them out. They were worried about my grades, but I ignored their pleas for me to get tutored. I began to write music, to vent out my feelings. I started doing this when I was 10, and I still do it to this day.
Until my eighth grade year, I was a loner. I was the music freak, or the sarcastic geek. I just continued to write music though. I could care less.
On the first day of eighth grade a new boy joined our class. He had crutches, and his name was Billy. We instantly became friends. He accompanied me everywhere. When I found out about a new musicians concert in New York City, he encouraged me to join. When I made the cut, and found out that I had tickets for me and a friend, he was the person I chose. Soon, we were off to the big city.
When we got to the concert, the firts thing I noticed was a strange boy in the audience. His face was mostly covered by a hat, but I swore he only had one eye. He was at least a foot taller than everyone else. Billy was somewhere in the audience too, but I couldn't find him. Oh well.
During my performance, I would like to say that I killed it. I got a standing ovation at the end, and I was very proud. Billy came up to congratulate me. I was the last act, so the curtains closed and everyone left. That is, except for the boy. He thumped onto the stage. He lifted off his hat, and he clearly had one eye.
"Die, demigod," he screamed.
I grabbed a microphone pole, despite Billy's pleas, and swung it at the cyclops. The cyclops wasn't hurt at all. Instead, he just laughed at me. His laugh was cut short, though, when Billy stabbed it in the stomach with a (celestial bronze) sword. It cried out in pain and clutched its stomach. Billy then hit its eye, making it disintegrate.
"Come with me," Billy said, grim.
I did as instructed. I followed him to a closet, away from the stage.
"What happened," I screamed.
"That was a baby Southern cyclops," Billy murmured. "It tried to kill you, because you're a demigod."
He then continued on to tell me about the gods, monsters, and Camp Half-Blood. He asked me to come with him, and I agreed. He also gave me a weapon, bronze rings that turn into CB katanas when I shake my hands.
"Oh," he added, before we left. "I'm a satyr."
"Satyr. I'm your protector. I should have seen that monster, but I'm only a junior."
"What's a satyr?"
He took off a shoe to reveal a hoof. "I'm half goat. the crutches are just for show, though."
"So, how are we going to get to camp," I asked.
"We'll just take a car," Billy said.
"Aren't you 13? Like me?" I questioned.
He laughed. "Not exactly. Don't worry, I can drive."
"I trust you," I reassured him, "but how do we get a car?"
"We steal a loitering car," he smirked.
He tiptoed outside and found a beat-up Jeep. He busted the window of the car and hoisted himself in.
"They left the keys in the ignition," he called. "C'mon!"
I climbed into the car and sat down next to him. We drove all the way through New York City, and tuened onto the highways. soon, we were in Long Island.
Billy parked the car in front of an archway that read 'Camp Half-Blood'. "We're here."
I've been at camp ever since.
Weapons: Melody has bronze rings that turn into CB katanas.
Foster parents are checked out before they are allowed to accept children into their families. One of the main things foster care organisations look for is that the parents will be caring and loving. 14 s too old for a monster attack, it should happen between the ages of 11 and 13. What happened on the way to camp? How old is she when she reaches camp?