Look, I didn't ask to be here.
And I don't mean "here" as in on this smelly school bus heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I mean "here" as in alive. Again.
Most people dream of reincarnation. They think, "Oh, cool, I'll get transported to a fantasy world, become a hero, and get a harem."
Nobody tells you about the fatigue.
My name is Sol Vance. I'm twelve years old. I have a loving mother, a decent brain, and a permanent diagnosis of what the doctors call "Severe Idiopathic Hypersomnia." In English: I'm always tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushing tired. Like I just ran a marathon while carrying a Honda Civic.
I also have "hallucinations." That's the other fun part. Sometimes I see things that aren't there. Weird, shadowy shapes. Monsters. But I've learned to ignore them. If you ignore the scary shadow-beast, it can't hurt you. That's Rule #1 of living with a broken brain.
"Sol. Sol! Wake up."
I felt a finger poking my shoulder. It was persistent, annoying, and could only belong to one person.
I groaned, shifting in my seat. I kept my sunglasses on. I always wore them. My mom told the school I had extreme photosensitivity. The truth was, if people looked into my eyes without the shades, they tended to freak out. Apparently, having irises that looked like the bottom of a black hole wasn't "socially acceptable."
"I'm awake," I lied, my voice raspy.
"You were drooling," Percy Jackson said.
I pushed my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose and looked at my best friend. Percy was the definition of ADHD. He couldn't sit still. He was currently drumming his fingers on his knees, looking out the window, and bouncing his leg all at the same time.
We were opposites. He was pure chaotic energy; I was a human sloth. He was a trouble magnet; I was just trying to catch a nap in the eye of the storm.
"I wasn't drooling," I muttered, leaning my head back against the vibrating window. "I was meditating."
"You were snoring," Grover Underwood chimed in from the seat behind us.
"Snoring is just loud breathing," I said. "Leave me alone. I need to conserve energy for the museum."
"It's Greek mythology, Sol!" Percy grinned, looking entirely too excited. "Mr. Brunner said there's cool armor and weapons."
" great," I yawned. "Maybe they have a sarcophagus I can test out."
I actually knew a lot about Greek mythology. In my last life—the one I vaguely remembered like a movie I watched ten years ago—I had read the classics. I knew about Zeus, Poseidon, the Titans. But I had never read any books about modern kids running around with swords. That sounded like way too much cardio.
Nancy Bobofit, the red-headed kleptomaniac sitting across the aisle, threw a chunk of peanut butter and ketchup sandwich at Grover. It smacked into his curly hair.
Percy surged forward, his fists clenching. "I'm gonna kill her."
I reached out—lazily—and grabbed the back of Percy's jacket. My grip was iron-tight. It always was. I didn't look like much—just a lean Black kid with dreads tied back in a messy bun—but I was unexplainably strong.
"Sit," I said softly. "Not worth the energy, Perce. Just let the universe handle her."
"The universe usually handles things by letting me get expelled," Percy grumbled, but he sat back down.
I closed my eyes again. My body hummed with a low-level vibration. It was the Armor. That's what I called it. My skin felt... dense. Heavy. It was constantly sucking away my stamina to maintain itself. I didn't know why I was built like a tank, but I knew the cost.
Just five more minutes, I told myself. Just let me sleep until we get to the exhibit.
The museum was interesting, mostly because Mr. Brunner—our Latin teacher who rolled around in a wheelchair—was actually cool. He was telling us about a stele, a grave marker.
I stood at the back of the group, leaning against a pillar. My legs felt like lead. The "hallucinations" were bad today. Every time I looked at the shadows in the corners of the room, they seemed to wriggle.
Ignore it, I told myself. It's just the sleep deprivation.
"Mr. Vance," Mr. Brunner called out.
I opened one eye behind my shades. "Present."
"Perhaps you can tell us what this carving depicts?"
I glanced at the stone. I didn't need to study it. The knowledge was just... there. Like a file downloading into my brain.
"It's Kronos eating his kids," I said, suppressing a yawn. "The King of the Titans. He didn't trust them, so he swallowed them whole. Digestion must have been terrible."
"Gross," a girl whispered.
"Indeed," Mr. Brunner said, looking at me with those intense, thousand-year-old eyes. "And why did he do that, Mr. Vance?"
"Prophecy," I shrugged. "Fate. Someone told him his kids would jump him, so he tried to cheat the system. But you can't cheat fate. You just end up making it happen faster."
Mr. Brunner looked pleased. "Well said. Five points to Gryff—er, to your team."
I went back to leaning on the pillar. Percy gave me a thumbs up.
Then, things went sideways.
We broke for lunch outside. The fountain was huge. Nancy Bobofit was back at it, picking on Grover. I was eating a sandwich, trying to decide if chewing was worth the calorie expenditure, when I saw it.
Mrs. Dodds, our pre-algebra teacher, was staring at Percy.
Now, I knew my brain played tricks on me. But usually, the tricks were vague. This was specific. I watched as her eyes glowed red. Not 'irritated contact lens' red. Magma red.
"Sol," I whispered to myself. "You are hallucinating. Drink some water."
Then Nancy Bobofit went flying into the fountain.
"I didn't touch her!" Percy yelled.
Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us. "Now, honey."
"I..." Percy stammered.
"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said.
Percy looked terrified. He glanced at me.
I sighed. A long, deep, suffering sigh. I wanted to sit on the bench. I wanted to finish my sandwich. But Percy was my only friend. He was the only one who didn't treat me like a freak or a medical patient.
"I'll come too," I said, stepping forward.
Mrs. Dodds glared at me. "Stay here."
Her voice wasn't human. It sounded like rocks grinding together in a deep cavern.
"Nah," I said, sliding my hands into my hoodie pockets. "Percy gets lost easily. I'm his emotional support animal."
Mrs. Dodds hesitated, then sneered. "Fine. Both of you."
We walked into the empty Greek and Roman section. The gallery was silent.
"You've been giving us problems, honey," Mrs. Dodds said to Percy.
"I'll try harder, ma'am," Percy said.
I leaned against a glass case containing an old shield. The shadows in the room were going crazy. They were stretching toward me, like dogs pulling on a leash. I tried to mentally push them back. Down, boy. I'm just hallucinating.
Mrs. Dodds changed.
There was no other way to describe it. One second she was a teacher in a leather jacket. The next, she was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws the size of kitchen knives.
"Die, honey!" she shrieked.
Percy froze.
"Okay," I said aloud. "That's a new one. Bat-wings. Very creative, brain."
She lunged. Not at me. At Percy.
Time seemed to slow down. I wasn't trying to be a hero. I really wasn't. But Percy was standing there like a deer in headlights, and those claws were aimed right for his chest.
My body moved before my brain gave permission. It was instinct.
I stepped in front of Percy.
"Sol, move!" Percy screamed.
I didn't have a weapon. I didn't have a plan. I just put my arm up, expecting to feel pain, expecting to wake up in the school infirmary.
THWACK.
Mrs. Dodds' claws slammed into my forearm.
It sounded like a hammer hitting a tire. A dull, heavy thud.
I blinked behind my sunglasses. I looked at my arm. The sleeve of my favorite hoodie was shredded. But my skin... my dark brown skin didn't have a scratch on it. Not even a bruise.
Mrs. Dodds looked confused. She hissed, pulling her hand back. Her claws looked... blunted. Like she'd hit a steel wall.
"Huh," I said. "That didn't hurt."
The exhaustion hit me instantly. Taking that hit was like sprinting a mile. My knees buckled slightly. The durability. It had absorbed the kinetic energy, but the cost was my wakefulness.
"What are you?" the thing hissed at me.
"Tired," I said honestly. "I'm really, really tired."
She shrieked and raised her claws for a second strike, this time aiming for my face.
"Percy!" Mr. Brunner's voice echoed. "What ho!"
He threw a pen through the air. Percy caught it. It turned into a bronze sword.
Percy swung wildly. The blade passed through Mrs. Dodds like she was made of smoke. She exploded into yellow dust, smelling like sulfur.
I stood there, staring at the pile of dust. My hoodie was ruined. My arm was intact. And I was so sleepy I could have napped right there on the museum floor.
"Sol?" Percy was shaking. "Did you see... did you see that?"
I looked at him. I looked at the dust.
If I admitted I saw it, that meant it was real. If it was real, then monsters were real. If monsters were real, then my life was about to become a lot of work.
"See what?" I lied smoothly, yawning and rubbing my eyes. "I think I dozed off standing up again. Did something happen?"
Percy stared at me. "The teacher! She turned into a monster! She hit you!"
I looked at my arm. The skin was smooth. "Percy, you're tripping. I probably just snagged my sleeve on the display case."
"But—"
"I'm going back to the bus," I said, turning around. "I need a nap. This hallucination stuff is exhausting."
I walked away, keeping my cool, detached stride. But inside, my heart was hammering against my ribs.
I had felt that impact. It was real.
And for the first time in my twelve years of life, the shadows in the corner of the room didn't look like hallucinations.
They looked like they were waiting for orders