Teen Ink

Chapter 1: (Miranda) My Dream Comes True

Chapter 1: (Miranda) My Dream Comes True

I had just finally started to get into a normal routine at Olympian Academy, a training school for mortal relations of the Greek gods, when my life turned upside down yet again.
It all started one night when I had the weirdest dream. I saw my mother, Aphrodite, along with an auburn-haired woman, talking at a food court in a mall. With the auburn-haired woman was a girl that looked about a year older than me. She had wavy red-hair in two pigtails with a moon-shaped hairpin, and plenty of freckles with big brown eyes. She was wearing ripped jeans, green Converse One-Stars, a green t-shirt with a yellow smiley face on it, a gold heart locket, and a black leather jacket. She had a great smile that matched her t-shirt. She seemed to radiate some sort of power. I couldn’t put my finger on it…then again; I’ve never had a demigod dream where everything made sense.
Then, I woke up with a start. I was in my House, surrounded by an atrocious amount of pink. That’s Aphrodite House for you. Everything was like out of a Barbie movie, including the Ken-like boys.
The rest of the day was as normal as possible when you’re a demigod. I got an A+ on my Greek test, as usual. I managed not to be beaned in Sword fighting, which was a plus. Claire didn’t pick on me, which was nice.
I was reading The Odyssey (in Greek, of course) for my book report after lunch on the lawn bench. Then, I heard an engine. I looked up, and saw a girl on a motorbike. It wasn’t just any girl—it was the girl from my dream. She was looking at me funny, as if she was thinking really hard.
She walked up to me, and asked, “Do I know you?”
“I don’t believe so,” I said. “But you were in my dream last night.”
“Who are you?” she asked.
“My name is Miranda,” I said. “I’m a daughter of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty.”
“Are you related to Barbie?” she asked, excitedly.
I was very surprised. Here was this very tough looking teenager, and she was talking about Barbie!
“Can I have her autograph?” she asked. “By the way, my name is Amanda.”
“OK, first of all, I’m not related to Barbie, although you wouldn’t know that by the look of our House. Secondly, you’re creeping me out.”
“I have a talent for that,” said Amanda. “I was just teasing.”
“I think I knew that,” I said, though not so sure inside.
“Where am I?” she asked.