I think I have some kind of disease where I can't stay on one story/category at a time. Yesterday it was Doctor Who, the day before that was Terra Nova, and now it's Percy Jackson? Sigh...
Well anyway, this is an idea I've been sitting on for some time. Happy reading :)
Percy was helping Annabeth pack some of her things to take to Montauk. Well, she said he was helping, but it was more like he was sitting on her bed while she packed pretty much everything in her room into a million bags, and if he tried to touch anything, he would get his hand smacked. Annabeth left to get something to eat a few minutes ago, and Percy was sitting there trying very hard not to touch anything, just like Annabeth had instructed him before she left. But a pile of papers caught his eye. He glanced out the window to make sure Annabeth wasn't on her way back yet and leafed through them.
Percy looked down at the letter in his hand. It was written in crayon in what was undoubtedly a child's handwriting. About eight or nine, Percy guessed, based on the spelling and the writing style. It was hard to read, what with the spelling, but here's what Percy deciphered:
Dear Mom,
I'm six now. For my classwork we were supposed to write a letter to a parent, but I don't like my stepmom or dad, so I'll write to you.
Dad always tells me stories about you. He says you were the smartest, prettiest lady in the world. He says you left to go to college and that you'll come back someday. Will you, mommy? And when you come back, can I take you in for show and tell? No one here believes what me and Dad say about you.
I don't like it here. Everyone makes fun of me. Is there something wrong with me mom? I can't read like everyone else can. When I try, all the letters get mixed up. I have a bad grade in Spelling. My stepmom doesn't help me at all and dad's always busy. I can draw, though. Well, I can't draw people, but I can draw buildings. I really like buildings. When we went to the science museum last week I kept telling the guide that the outside should have pillars, like the Greeks, but she ignored me. My teacher gave me a time out for being bad. Well, that's what she said anyway. I don't think I was being bad.
My birthday was two days ago. I bet you would've come if you weren't busy in school. I had a party, but it was just me and Dad. He gave me a book about buildings, but I can't read it. I just look at the pictures. The pictures are pretty. Someday I'd like to design my own buildings like those. Anyway, I had a party with me and Dad. No one else came because no one wanted to come to crazy Annie's party. The other kids are mean. They made me cry on my birthday.
Mom, please hurry back. I don't want people thinking I'm crazy. It makes them look at me funny and talk to me different. I just want to be like the other kids. Dad says that I can go nowhere but up. I hope it's true.
Love Annie.
P.S. Can you please ask dad to teach me how to surf? I saw someone surfing on TV last night and it looked really cool. I don't want to ask him myself because he might look at me funny like everyone does here.
Percy blinked. He wiped at his eyes, drying the tears that were threatening to fall, and moved on to the next one. It was written just last year. He frowned and flipped through the papers again. They must have been out of order. He was about to read the next one, but he saw Annabeth coming back so he quickly shoved the letter in his back pocket. He set the letters down haphazardly on the floor and resumed his bored position just as Annabeth opened the door.
"Dinner is served," she chirped, holding a plate of blue cookies. "Chiron made them."
"Oh, cool," Percy said in a would-be offhand manner.
"So what are we going to when we get to Montauk?" Annabeth asked.
Percy thought back to the letter in his pocket and smiled. "I'm going to teach you how to surf."
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