Grabbing her backpack from the peg by the door,
Annabeth rushed out into the pouring rain. Droplets thundered down from the heavens and pounded down on filthy city streets. They washed away the dirt, the secrets, all unspeakables that were inevitable in the metropolitan hubbub of the city. They cleansed the air and exterminated that insufferable, suffocating heat that came with summers spent in Manhattan.
And Annabeth loved it. She took delicious delight in the rhythmic patter of raindrops. The trail of cold moisture that slipped over her skin took her back to happier times. The rain spoke of times spent in lakes, of the splash of waves around her ankles, of capsized canoes. It spoke of boy with dark hair, and eyes the colour of the deepest ocean. It spoke of that same face, laughing with unmasked joy as he threw up fountains of water. It spoke of a young man who meant more to her than anything, anything in this big, cruel world.
Annabeth grinned like a madwoman and laughed. How long- how long had she waited for just a drop of rain? How long had she waited for that bit of moisture that told her that really, things were ok? Perhaps it was fitting that it should rain today. It was a crazy, mad idea, but she couldn't help imagine that the rain was here for her. It was impossible, but still. She imagined that the rain was a guide, the light at the end of this dark corridor that was life. If only she could drown in a rainstorm.
The momentary joy and delirium that had come with the rain disappeared faster with every step she took. By the time she stood before the main gates, her clothes and hair were dry. Those sadistic butterflies had returned, and they had resumed their stomping game. Annabeth also started to notice the inconvenient side effects that the rain had had. The concealer had washed off, displaying her scars for all the world to gawk at and parrot about. Her hair was back in knots, even if they weren't as bad as before. She was sure that all her books in her bag had gotten sodden.
As Athena's daughter stared up at the imposing gates of the school, it struck her how very prison-like it seemed. A tall, metal fence topped with barbed wire surrounded the building on all sides. The windows were small and were dotted inconsistently all over the facade of the school. The building itself was dull, grey concrete and gave the distinct impression that it was built for the sole purpose of keeping children locked inside. Annabeth couldn't help but redesign the whole thing in her mind. An architect's brain. Always at work.
Looking at the place where she was expected to spend the year, she felt the hot, uncomfortable prick of tears behind her eyes. Wiping furiously, she cursed herself. Gods of Olympus, what was the matter with her? Muttering a quick prayer to her mother, she bowed her head and dashed inside.
Annabeth stared out the window. A Prius was pulling up at the school gate. She absently gazed at it, spinning her pen in one hand, like she might with a knife, and tapping out a fast, quiet beat with her other hand. She was thinking about Percy. How she missed him. How she longed for those sparkling green eyes. How she wanted to see that crooked smile. But she needed a distraction. She needed a distraction to avert her thoughts from her boyfriend, or she might just go insane with longing. The car. She would start by observing that car.
The Prius had odd markings on the front. Two of them, strangely circular. Perhaps from an accident, she thought to herself. A teenage boy and a woman, presumably his mother climbed out. The woman hugged the boy, said something to him, and kissed him on the cheek. Then, wiping a tear, she raised her hand in farewell, and the boy walked up the main steps.
The exchange gave Annabeth a pang. How she had always longed for a parent who loved her like that. Her father had barely even said goodbye, let alone offered to walk her here on her first day. He had grunted good luck, hardly looking up from his book. The tears threatened to spill again. With the Prius driving off into the distance, she raised her eyes to the sky. Percy loved her like that, she supposed. But Percy wasn't here.
"Miss Chase?" A stern, clipped voice called from the front. Annabeth jumped and whipped her head around so quickly she felt the pain of whiplash flare. Several students snickered. One student mirrored her jump, whipping her head around and staring at the teacher with wide hazel eyes. Annabeth ignored her. What else could she do?
Annabeth glared at the teacher, who fixed her with a cold, hard stare. "What are you doing?" She asked. Annabeth was silent, which was an answer enough for the teacher. She marched up through the aisles, at a brisk walk that should have been impossible in those heels. She snatched up Annabeth's book and stared at it.
"What, Miss Chase, do you think this is?" The teacher held up the work for everyone to see. More laughter. There was one question answered, one question done in an hour of work. Everything else was drawings. She hadn't even realized that she'd done them. They all depicted the horrifying events of Tartarus. There they were, she and Percy, falling down to hell. There was a beach of glass, a river of lost souls. Death Mist, Drakons, Tartarus himself. For a second, a shadow passed the teacher's face. Then she resumed her composure. "Detention. Straight after school."
Annabeth was lost. Not just in these bleak, sterile school hallways, but in her mind too. It seemed to her that she could never quite understand what was going on anymore, never quite grasp the harsh divide between reality and the bottomless depths of her mind. It was unnerving, in a way. There had been a time when she had been so grounded, so able to focus on the here and now. It seems those times were long gone.
Eyes glued to the vague, inaccurate map of the school, Annabeth stumbled blindly through the same, identical corridors. How had she not found her class yet? She was sure she hadn't misread the school plan. So how was she supposed to be on time, if the school didn't bother to check their maps? But it wasn't even the glum prospect of arriving late for class that bothered her. Just that not even a demigod would be able to balance to two detentions if she wasn't on time. And there was something about that maths professor that rung alarm bells in her head, screaming warnings to avoid the severe, calculating teacher, to not cross her. So she certainly couldn't miss her detention.
So absorbed was she in her mind, in the ideas, the doubts, the speculations that chased each other across her brain, that she payed very little heed to were she was going. It was as expected, therefore, when she slammed into a wall of muscle that had been coming, just as distracted, towards her. Rough, calloused hands righted her, as the unmistakable tremor of suppressed laughter rang through the room. Blushing furiously, Annabeth scrambled backwards, feeling much like a small, cornered animal, wanting to escape, but not knowing how. That was until she glanced up at all the smirking faces, and froze.
"Percy," She breathed.
