Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. It's a fact.

Hello all! This is a one-shot I came up with. I love how Nico was born in the 20s/30s/40s/who knows? and wanted to write a story of how his classmates handle their "elderly" peer.

Enjoy!

Nico POV

I hate school.

Why? Well, I never actually agreed to go there. Persephone forced me to. She insisted that all children, whether they're butt-kicking heroes or not, need to go to school. They needed a good education so they could get a job if the whole monster-fighting business doesn't work out.

In other words, she just wanted me out of the Underworld when she was living down there.

So now I was at a public school in New York City. This school was exactly like any other public school in the region. There were the nerds, jocks, snobby rich kids, and the list goes on. People who just didn't get along with each other. People who didn't get along with me.

I had no friends. Well, that's not totally true. I had friends, but those were the social rejects who decided to be friends with me to make themselves feel better. It didn't mean that I thought of them as friends, though.

Today was different. It wasn't just another pathetic day at school. Today was my birthday and no one was going to spoil it. I had high hopes of enjoying this day, no matter how much I hated this school.

How old was I turning? Well, it's not what you think. And my class didn't expect that either. They surprised me. They actually knew it was my birthday today and gave me a happy one. Even our teacher, Mrs. Hall, was in a happier mood than usual.

"Happy birthday, Nico!" They screamed as I walked into class along with cheers of, "Hip, hip! Hooray! Then the teacher led them into singing the famous song. No, I don't mean the happy birthday song. I mean the age song.

"Are you one? Are you two? Are you three?" the class sang. I just stood there with a forced smile, thinking, What do I do?

"Are you eleven? Are you twelve? Are you thirteen-?"

There. That's where they expected me to stop. Thirteen, the age I was supposed to be in the seventh grade. But I didn't yell stop. I let them keep going.

My classmates looked at each other uneasily, but they continued to chant. Mrs. Hall frowned and opened up one of her filing cabinets. Probably to check my age so she could use that as an excuse to punish me for lying about my age.

"Are you twenty-five? Are you twenty-six?" They shouted, thinking that I was obviously deaf. What kind of twenty-six year old is still in middle school?

But I didn't not call out the magic word that ended the birthday chant. I just stood there, with a little smirk starting to form on my face.

The teacher found a file and opened it. My school record. I wondered why that was in the classroom. Maybe she enjoyed reading about the biography of this emo kid with the last name "of angels".

The class was starting to get annoyed. "Are you forty-nine? Are you fifty?"

Finally, at sixty-eight, a kid spoke up. "Stop!" He turned to his peers. "Why are we still singing? Obviously he's just being a jerk. He's not sixty-eight years old!"

Took them long enough to realize that. They all turned to me and started yelling at me. And there no happy birthdays heard through the midst of all these protests. I just made my class very angry.

The punk, Brad, who started this rebellion walked over to the teacher's desk and asked her something. She shook her head in exasperation and a look of shock appeared on the kid's face.

He said something to her again. She sighed and showed him the paper. As he looked at it, his eyes widened.

Brad looked at me again and scowled. He starting walking towards me, pushing through the crowd. He stopped in front of me, his face only a couple of inches away from mine. The room became silent.

"How old are you?" He sneered at me.

I smiled evilly. "Now, Brad, that's a rude question to ask." I chided.

He gave me a light push, not wanting to start a fight but still wanting to show that my puny little remarks wouldn't help. "Tell me your age, di Angelo."

"Maybe I don't want to," I said.

"You will or I will." To add drama to his threat, Brad took a breath and started to say my age.

I threw my hand around his mouth. "It's okay. I'll tell them."

I looked at everyone who was anxiously waiting for me to talk. "I'm seventy-five years old."

They looked at me in disbelief. I heard whispers of, "My grandpa's that age!" and "He's joking, right?" One kid even said, "Maybe he's going to pull off a mask. He's a terrorist!"

"Ho-how is that possible?" One girl, I think her name was Andrea, asked.

"It's a long story," I explained which lead to more terrorist comments.

"You are not that old!" One of the nerds said. "It's not physically possible! Mrs. Hall, it's not, right?"

She looked at me. "Someone must have written his birth date wrong." She stiffened. "I agree with you, Clyde. Nico, stop being a fool and admit that you're thirteen years old so we can continue class.

I smirked. These stubborn mortals. If something doesn't make sense to them, they just change it to suit what they can handle hearing. "Yes, Mrs. Hall." I said, over-exaggerating the action of nodding my head. "You are correct. I'm thirteen years old. Must have been a misprint."

"See?" She looked satisfied. "Now everybody sit down. We are going to talk about the Great Depression today." She continued listing off facts of the event while we sat down in our desks.

This is one birthday I will never forget.

Please review! I know, one-shots don't get that many reviews because they come and go so fast but please. Take the time to send a nice, well-constructed review. It cheers me up real fast (and I definitely need some cheering up sometimes)!

Check out my other story, Nico vs. Technology (in progress) as well, if you haven't already. People have told me that it's ridiculously hilarious so you won't be disappointed!

And if you like that story too, I also have two other stories (completed) that you can check out too!

Thanks for taking your time to read my story! ~Sweetly Blissful