Ch. 2- Do I know you?

Hi guys,

So I forgot to mention some things previously. First of all, all rights belong to Rick Riordan. Secondly, there may be some violence, and some implied adult themes but I really want to keep all of that at a minimum. If anything changes I'll let you guys know ahead of time. There may be some cursing here and there, but nothing extreme.

If it fits I'll put in a song tribute. These are just songs that I feel like really fit to the mood/overall theme of what is happening. You don't have to listen to them but I strongly recommend you do! I also might put in an occasional quote, at the beginning of a chapter. ;)

There will also be a Percy POV in this chapter.

-Paper

Annabeth POV

(Song Tribute: There she goes- The La's)

The wind seemed to bite my exposed skin. It carried my blond curls, brushing them across my face in disarray. I shivered, and tugged my jacket closer, as I strode through the park.

When I reached the willow tree, I sat down by its roots. It's a quiet spot in the park and if I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine that it was solely meant for me. I dug through my backpack, till I found my light grey notebook and my felt tip pens. I leaned back against the tree trunk and felt the stress of the school day leave my body, as if taken by the wind. This was the spot were I poured out my heart through page and ink.

But when I leaned against the tree trunk, I could feel something prodding my back. Curious, I digged my hand between the roots and groped around until I retrieved a small piece of ripped out notebook paper. I tried to smooth out the pages wrinkles, which was covered in a messy inky scrawl. It looked as if someone had dunked a spider in ink and had forced it to dance across the page.

Dear person,

I hope nobody found this letter- lets hope it decomposes in this hellhole of a town. Honestly, when mom told me we were moving I didn't know what to feel. I mean at least Covington is a beachtown, right?

Wrong.

First of all, I'm hated by every single person in my grade. I don't even know how I managed it. Because I always thought I was a rather decent guy. But when I got here I didn't even care anymore. All I am is scared and freaking exhausted.

I feel like I am drowning and nobody even knows- and if they would know they wouldn't even care. Why would they? If I'd met myself within the past few weeks I'd hate myself too.

When I finished reading I smiled to myself. And instead of pouring my heart out to my diary I ripped out a page of my beloved journal and filled it with my own loopy handwriting. When I was done I gently folded the paper and squeezed it underneath the tree root, keeping the mystery letter tucked into my coat pocket.

Percy POV (earlier that day)

I tried surprising Mom before school today. She had a big presentation today she had been stressing out for weeks now. I got up extra early to run down to the dry cleaners to get her clothes. I then attempted at making waffles. They turned out a bit lopsided and a little bit crisp, but well, I tried.

I had tried to make everything really nice, making her a glass of orange juice and picking a couple of peonies from the neighbors yard for our small rickety kitchen table (shhh… it's the thought that counts). I had wanted to stay and wish her luck, but by the time I was done I was already late for school. When I arrived, school had already started.

People tended to gossip about me. That was fine by me- I knew I had a 'bad boy' reputation. But I honestly did not care. I had been at a lot of schools before Goode high and knew that it was safer this way. I had been picked on enough. Plus the few friends I had made never truly stuck. People show their true colors when your kicked out of a school. Most of my friends wanted nothing more to do with me afterward. It hurts less this way.

After a long and painful day at school, all I wanted was to jump on my motorcycle and ride as far and as fast away from here as possible. I trudged through the hallway dragging my feet. It was quite- almost everybody had left.

Suddenly I heard some scuffling in a nearby hallway. With nothing better to do, I turned to see what was going on. Slumped against the wall was a thin kid, wearing a 'save the planet' t shirt and brown trousers. His hair was messy and unkempt, and he had a small goatee on his chin. I think his name is Grover.

Standing around Grover, like a pack of vultures, were Matt Sloan and a couple of his minions. Sniggering they kicked Grovers bag, causing all the books to scatter across the floor. One of Sloans minions held Grovers crutches.

I could feel a muscle work in my cheek. I hate bullies. I've been bullied enough before to know that I'd do anything to prevent it from happening again.

"Hey," I called out and strode over to them.

Matt Sloan caught my eye then shot me a sly grin. A couple of his goons backed up "Come to join the fun Jackson?"

I looked at Grover, who caught my eye and swallowed nervously. "No thanks,"

"Suit yourself," Matt Sloan turned back to Grover and got out a pocket knife "How do you feel about a haircut Underwood?"

I've had it. I pushed past Matt, his minions already stepping away from me. I grabbed Grover by his arm and pulled him up. I could feel him trembling underneath my grip. Was I really that terrifying?

"Go," I said directing my gaze at Matt. Sloan shook his head, chuckling slightly. It was a dangerous laugh- like the soft quiet before a gunshot.

"I said leave Sloan," I frowned at Sloan stepping towards him. I pretended I was one of the countless bullies that had made my life miserable previously. Tall, proud, and untouchable.

Maybe it worked. But all I know is that Sloan backed away, his minions following his lead as he shot one last glare at me.

I let one last shaky breath out and turned back to Grover. Grovers face was pale and he was biting on his lower lip as he stared at me. Quietly, I grabbed his bag and bent down to fill it back up with the fallen books. I recognized a couple of the titles- they were books I could only dream of reading with my dyslexia. Finally I grabbed his crutches, that Sloans minions had left sprawled on the floor. Wordlessly, I hand him both.

Walking side by side, Grover and I exited the school. I kept my eyes open for Sloan or any other guy that could cause Grover trouble. I could practically feel Grovers held back questions- but I don't know if he was too shy or too scared to ask them.

When we reached the parking lot Grover turned to me. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, like a fish out of water. I shoved my hands into my pockets- I could still feel them trembling.

"Why?" he finally says. His voice is soft and reedy.

I furrow my brow in confusion, "Why what?"

"Why help me?"

"Why not?" But that answer didn't seem to satisfy Grover.

I breathed out heavily "I just don't like bullies,". Grover nods his head, bobbing up and down like a muppet. I can't tell if he believes me or not.

Some part inside of me is laughing at me in this moment. I'm such a hypocrite.

I turn away from Grover and walk to my motorcycle, when I hear Grover call out "Thanks,"

I look back over my shoulder and give him a small curt nod, and then swing my foot over my bike.

~.~.~.~.~

When I ride my motorcycle I feel like I'm flying. I can feel the wind slapping every part of my body, I can feel every cell in my body coming alive. Strangely enough I feel completely at peace. It's like everything quiets down around me- like I'm the only person left here on earth.

I picked up speed. I knew I needed to stop somewhere before I went home. Today was the first day I had felt weak. It was the first day I had felt like the picked on scrawny boy, the boy I had left behind at my old school. I promised myself I'd never feel week again.

I parked my bike by the edge of the park and took off my helmet. I could still feel every inch of my body buzzing with energy as I ran across the park till I reached the willow tree. Feeling like an idiot, I bent down and dug underneath the roots for the letter I had left there.

I had written the letter a week after school had started. I was absolutely miserable and scared. I was worried about mom, about the stepfather we had left behind, and about myself. I was a wreck when I wrote this. But now I was sure that I needed to get rid of it. What if someone traced it back to me? What if-

I relaxed when my fingers closed around a piece of folded binder paper. I pulled it out and hastily unfolded it, expecting my illegible scrawl full of spelling errors. I stilled.

Oh no. No, no, no, no.

This was not my letter. Instead, of my shaky block letters there was elegant loopy handwriting. And instead of my distraught letter there was simply an email address.

Wisegirl22

~.~.~.~

Mom and I have a tradition- every night we cook together, and chat about our day as we work. Sometimes we play music through the old red radio standing on the windowsill and croak out the lyrics. We then sit down on the small brown kitchen table that we found at a yardsale back in New York. If money is running low we would turn off the lights and light a bunch of candles everywhere. I used to love it when we did that- it made everything seem magical.

Today, we did the exact same thing. Mom came home at the exact same time as me. She kicked off her heels and excused herself to go shower while I attempted math homework. When she got back she was wearing a washed out ACDC shirt and leggings.

My mom had me when she was seventeen. Because of that she's only thirty three. My dad you ask? Well, he never was or wanted to be in the picture. Mom had just lost her parents when she had me, so she had no place to go. So she took me and went out searching for a job. She got a great job as a waitress at a local diner. The owner took pity on us and let us live in the attic. That was the place where I learned my great love for the ocean, the place where mom perfected her chocolate chip recipe and where I found a love for bands like Fleetwood Mac. We lived their till I was seven, then we moved into our own apartment. But when we started to have money problems Mom started seeing a guys named Gabe Ugliano. All I want to say about him is that your lucky if you never met him. Mom and I left Gabe, and decided to move here to Covington. I guess it's better here.

You could say I'm your typical male Rory Gilmore.

But I freaking love my mom. She is practically my best friend.

After a quick dinner of Ravioli, I went to my room and sat down at my desk. I stared at the email address, and chewed on my lip. Finally I logged into the computer my mom and I shared and opened my private email. My heart was beating so fast, it was like it had a mind of its own. With shaking fingers I started to write.

Who knows what I had gotten myself into.