Finding My Father

Gabriella's parents split while her mother was pregnant. She has never known her father. But when Gabriella gets sent to Camp Half-Blood after being attacked by a monster, she just might get to meet him. Rated because I'm a hypocrite. Sparrowsong 19:59, February 2, 2010 (UTC)

Chapter One
My name is Gabriella Margalo Grace and I am five years old. Yeah, Margalo. Like the bird from Stewart Little. My mommy thought that was fitting because my daddy ran away before I was born. I didn't like my name very much. If I wasn't being teased about High School Musical and Stewart Little, it was always my last name. People always assumed that Grace was my middle name.

"Gabriella!" Mommy shouted. "It's time to go!"

"Just a minute!" I hollered. "I'm just getting Fluffy!"

I finally found my small, black teddy. He wasn't very fluffy, seeing as I'd had him since I was born, but I couldn't sleep without him.

I then ran downstairs and got in the car, setting my Barbie backpack down on the floor. My stepdad helped me into my carseat.

Mommy looked at me and smiled.

"Your first day of camp," she quietly said. "Yesterday you were a baby, and now you're going to camp."

My mommy was a lot prettier than me. She had black hair, blue eyes, and freckles. She wore black and dyed her hair a lot. Today it had red highlights.

I was one of the plainest, whitest little girls on the planet. I didn't look like Mommy. I was so pale, I looked like a vampire, though Mommy insisted that I looked like an angel. I didn't even have any freckles to make up for it.

I liked freckles. They were cute. Sometimes while my mommy and my stepdad weren't looking, I would sneak into my room and draw freckles on my face with brown and orange markers. Mommy always washed it off, though.

I had blue eyes, too (courtesy of my daddy). But mine were creepy and cat-like. They were more of an ice-blue, not electric blue. I didn't want ice-blue eyes.

I hated my dumb, blonde hair (thanks again, Daddy). People always said I had hair like Tom Felton, probably just to make me feel better about my ugliness. I still wanted hair like Mommy's. Bleach-blonde hair was too boring.

The car trip was about an hour. My mommy opened the door and let me out.

Though my hair was pulled back into a ponytail, it still blew in the wind, which was a bit annoying. But at least it didn't get in my face.

My stepdad took a picture of Mommy and I standing outside camp. Then Mommy took me to camp.

I wasn't wild about it. I would much rather be back at preschool with my friends. But since the teacher turned into a monster and tried to murder me, we didn't really have a choice.

I was a shy girl. I didn't like to be around lots and lots of people. There were a lot of mean-looking older kids, too. I just tried to stay out of everybody's way.

Mommy told me that my daddy would probably be there. Whenever I saw a blonde-haired, blue-eyed guy walk by, I always stared a little and wondered "Is that one my daddy? Is that one my daddy? Is that one my daddy?"

I noticed that at the Hermes table, a lot of the kids looked like me. Maybe one of them was my daddy.

To be continued...