The Last Time
A Christmas Story
.~.
ANNABETH, age thirteen
I absolutely hate Christmas.
It's a useless holiday.
A completely loathsome and ruthless and unforgiving day.
The world should be rid of it.
FOUR YEARS AGO
"Hey, Annabeth."
I flipped the page.
"Aaaaaannabeeeeth."
Cue eye roll. And repeated poking.
"I know you can hear me."
Suddenly, I huffed and shut my book loudly, taking in the fact that he flinched back in surprise with pride.
"What, Percy?"
He grinned toothily at being acknowledged by name, his bright green eyes twinkling with happiness. "Wanna come over for cookies? My mom's making some soon!"
"Percy." He looked up and blinked while I continued. "Your mom won't be back until seven. Which is in," I checked my worn out watch, "four hours."
Percy immediately deflated, and I felt sort of bad for bumming down his spirits. So I reached over and patted his raven mop of hair and combed it through with my fingers - just like how I saw his mom do once. I hoped I was at least a bit comforting and judging his expression and posture, I was doing well. He sighed loudly, leaning a bit more to the left so that he could rest against my side. Percy closed his eyes.
"So… how's it going with your dad and them?" He asked quietly, hesitantly, after a moment of silence.
I paused my actions, which caused him to open his eyes again. I caught the worried gleam and started petting his hair once more.
"Same old, same old," I replied, trying to keep my tone even and voice firm.
I knew just from one look at Percy that he didn't believe me for a second. I also knew that one look at me told him to just leave the subject. And, as usual, he dropped it because I didn't want to talk about it.
I moved my book from my lap onto the ground beside me and seconds afterward, Percy shifted down to rest his head in my lap. I sputtered in surprise, but then I relaxed because I saw his face and it asked me for a small favor. So I left it alone. With Percy so close to me, I simply continued combing through his dark hair with my fingers and listened to him tell stories about everything.
Then the phone call came.
It took me a while to realize that no one at my house would actually bother to answer the phone but myself, so I had to hurry up before it went to voicemail. I gently pushed Percy's head off of me and pointed at the phone. He just nodded, and so I got up and quickly ran to the phone just as it completed the fourth ring.
I grabbed and answered, "Chase residence."
The voice on the other side cleared their throat before speaking. "Is Frederick Chase there?"
"Yes," I said, glancing at the ground since I knew my father was working on another model in the basement.
The voice, which I noted as female, cleared her throat again. I noticed that it must be a nervous habit. "May I speak to him?"
"Uh… sure. Hold on one second, please." I set the phone back on the counter and jogged down the stairs, stopping midway to call my dad.
"Dad! Phone's for you. Sounded important," I said.
I watched as he nodded his head and gently put down the miniature plane model he was examining back onto his gigantic table of historic crafts. Without another glance, seeing as how my chest hurt when I so much as saw my father, I ran back up the stairs and back to Percy.
"You okay?" he asked when I settled back into my comfortable position again, but this time he sat up straight and my head was in his lap. I nodded, watching as my dad came up the stairs with a sluggish trudge to answer the phone. After listening to my dad turn from an uncaring sloth into a worried mother hen, I briefly wondered what the lady on the phone was telling him. He seemed to be at a loss, stuttering and running his hand through his hair multiple times. Then, after minutes of rushed and hushed speaking, he hung up the phone, glanced at us, and immediately came over. I blinked in surprise as he kneeled down in front of us.
"Percy, your mother will be coming home later than expected. You can stay at our house for the night," Dad said with a gentleness that I hadn't heard in my direction in years.
Percy deflated. There were only three hours left until seven, it was Christmas Eve, and his mom wouldn't be home until even later. Even I frowned at the thought of this, and so I got up and tugged Percy off the ground and pulled him to my room. My dad said that he would set up a place for Percy to sleep for the night in my room, and we just nodded back silently. Percy began to play with my blonde curls, brushing through them and then attempting to braid them together.
After hours of watching television and simply talking, my father lightly told us to go to bed. We did, Percy in oblivion and I in suspicion. Something was up, I noted. My dad was being strangely kind and attentive to the both of us. Usually he ignored us.
That night, Percy's mother never came to get him.
The following morning, Bobby and Matthew barged into my room and rudely woke up both Percy and me. They were jumping and shouting about it being Christmas and how Santa left them presents and no coal this year. Of course, I simply played along with them, to keep them young and innocent and forever gullible.
Santa wasn't real. If he was, then I would have gotten what I wanted a long time ago.
I didn't tell them that, nor did I tell Percy that his mom probably should have come pick him up before I woke up. I thought it was a useless idea.
The four of us went downstairs, Bobby and Matthew bouncing off the walls, Percy walking slowly in awe of the decorations, and me just following behind. The twins immediately lunged for the gifts, and I helped Percy grab something to eat. He gave me a look.
"Aren't you going to unwrap your presents?" He chewed on his toast quite loudly.
"No," I shook my head. "Just present. One. And I'd rather open it alone in my room than open it in front of the twins."
"Why?"
"They'd laugh at whatever it was I got."
After a pause, he said, "Oh."
"Yeah," I nodded curtly.
The doorbell rang. I stood to answer but suddenly my dad swooped down from the stairs, slipping on a robe and trying not to trip over his own feet.
"I'll get it, sweetie," he said hastily and opened the door only a crack. I couldn't even see who he was talking to.
That didn't stop me. I got up and quietly walked over to stand behind my dad so that I could see, Percy following my lead.
There were two tall men and one female, all three wearing formal black outfits. Behind them was a lonesome van. The female spoke, and I recognized her voice as the one from the phone. My father seemed shaken.
"We are here to collect," the lady said.
My father's face paled. "No… it can't be." He shook more. I glanced at Percy, who looked downright terrified. I bet I didn't look all that different.
The lady stepped forward, causing my father to step back, which made both Percy and I stumble. "We're here for Percy Jackson."
Horrified, I looked at Percy and immediately grabbed his arm and glared at the adults with my best death glare. Percy started to shake even more and I just knew that he didn't want to go and he was absolutely frightened.
"Percy," my dad said, "you need to go with the nice people. I'm sorry, son, but you can't stay with us."
My head shot up immediately. "What do you mean he can't stay?"
"What your father means, young lady," the woman replied, "is that Percy needs to come with us and stay in our care. Your father isn't eligible to care for the boy."
"And why not?"
"He isn't Percy's father."
"Then where's his mom?"
The lady glanced at the two men, who simply nodded. Then she said one word before the men stepped in. "Dead."
I froze and, at that moment, the men swooped in and scooped the frozen Percy off the floor and simply stole him from me.
Christmas when I was three, I realized that Mom wasn't coming back.
Christmas when I was four, I discovered Dad's new girlfriend.
Christmas when I was five, I found the engagement ring.
Christmas when I was six, I was finally introduced to the she-devil and her two demonic twin sons.
Christmas when I was seven, I knew that I was neglected and unwanted.
Christmas when I was eight, I didn't even exist to anyone but my best friend and his mother.
Christmas when I was nine, I lost that best friend.
It's totally no wonder why I loathe the holiday so much.
Author's Note: Sorry for being MIA for about... two years? I thought I'd make it up to you guys with this Christmas oneshot. Don't worry, I'm working on something right now. It's called Dear Future Husband and another one called Walking Alone.
I'm trying to make it so that I'll be able to upload on a regular schedule.
Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson. Rick Riordan does.
Thanks for reading!
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