Two Wrongs Equals A Right

Author: Amethyst Raindrops 16

Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

Chapter Two:

Excuse me?

Sword fighting.

What comes to mind when you hear the words sword fighting? If I'm catching your drift (I really don't know what that phrase means, but Paul said it to me once when he was trying to be cool), then you probably are thinking about medieval times.

Images of knights in shining armor atop prancing horses that are draped with colorful banners probably popped into your mind's eye. I bet you practically heard the clinking of the knight's chainmail, the frantic neighs of the horses, and the clanging of swords as they are powerfully slash together...but that's just a guess.

I'm no Rachel, but that's just what I assumed a normal human would think of… although now that I think about it, I don't have much experience being a "normal human". Like none if you consider that I'm technically only half human, but I'm rambling again.

If your mind didn't immediately conjure visions of medieval knights, then you obviously are more creative than me… or you go to Camp Half Blood.

Anybody who is anybody at Camp Half Blood would definitely not think of medieval knights when those words are mentioned. Well, that's not entirely fair of me to say. I suppose that if you like just arrived at camp or, totally hypothetically, got all your memories stolen by somebody (cough, cough, HERA) and wound up, say, at a camp for Roman demigods, then you wouldn't know this. But seriously, apart from those two exceptions, literally everybody thinks of this.

Me.

I know, I know, hold your tidal waves, geez. I am not being vain, egotistical, or self-centered here; I'll leave that to the daughters of Aphrodite (not you, Piper). I'm not tooting my own horn… or conch shell. I'll leave that job to Chiron when he summons us for campfire or meals. And, believe it or not, I'm not even saying that with the least bit of bias because actually, I think of Riptide whenever sword fighting is mentioned.

Where was I again? Oh yes, people think about me when they think about sword fighting at CHB. Right, gotcha, check, I remember. Stupid ADHD, making me get all off track.

Anyways, I actually know this for a fact though. Annabeth was doing some smarty-pants survey project thing about what images the human mind associates with certain words or phrases. I was a little confused by the whole thing mainly because I can't imagine why anybody, child of Athena or no, would willingly do a project in their spare time. I have much better things to do. Like sleep. Or save the world.

But whatever, and as part of the survey my oh-so-clever girlfriend went around camp asking people what they thought of when the word "sword fighting" was mentioned. I have to admit, I was partly flattered, but mostly I was just embarrassed.

Connor and Travis Stoll said that (and I quote directly), "We think of Percy totally saving the day and killing some monsters. You know what we're talking about right, 'Beth?"

They looked like they were going to say more according to Annabeth, but my Wise Girl attacked them seconds later for calling her "'Beth". I guess the world will never know what other genius the twins were going to impart on us.

Clarisse LaRue had grunted that she thought of "Prissy smashing some monster faces in… but that wasn't a compliment! I still think its just dumb luck how he always manages to avoid certain death every time…"

Annabeth went to go ask Grover, but he was off with his girlfriend, Juniper and we didn't want to –ahem- disturb them.

The point is, kids at Camp are used to swords.

While pretty much everybody else on earth looks at a sword and thinks about donating it to the nearest museum about the Middle Ages, we look at a sword like its our lifeline. Well, to some it kind of is. Like me, for example.

We don't bat an eye at the sight of teenagers carrying a bow in one hand and holding a full quiver of arrows in the other, heading off into the woods. Seeing a ten-year-old girl pull two throwing knives from the twin sheathes around her waist and sprint off into the direction of a roaring monster is barely acknowledged. We don't think twice about using spears as walking sticks when we're bored or about the possible dangers of climbing a "rock wall" that has real lava on it. War games are common and the practice of "using your words" when frustrated tends to be forgotten in favor of the more effective method that includes our weapon of choice.

To us, it isn't weird to have trunks full of weapons at the end of our beds and large shields propped up against the wall. We've gotten over the annoyance at having clothes with random holes or slashed rips in them and have become best friends with any stain remover that can take blood out of our shirts. There isn't a half-blood within the safety of this camp that isn't capable of suiting up in full battle armor in under two minutes…not that such a feet doesn't take practice though. That's why we keep baggies of ambrosia, bottles of nectar and rolls of bandages on the tops of our nightstands. Duh.

We are good at "old" stuff, professionals really. As depressing as it is, we have to be, or we wouldn't survive.

What we do have problems with, however, is the new stuff.

And by "new stuff", I mean everything from old, box-like cellular phones to the sleekest iPhone. We have issues with the chunkiest of computers and the smallest of laptops. Sometimes things like iPods are okay, but its much more common to see CD players, you know, just to be safe.

A demigod using electronic devices is like putting up road flares, sending up a search light, and blaring an alarm that screams "Come and get me!" to every single monster within fifty miles.

Yeah. That bad.

Because of this rather unfortunate side effect of electronics, especially cell phones, we don't have them. Okay, yes, there is always that one kid who has one but do you know where it stays 99.9 percent of the time? In Chiron's office…and a fat lot of good it does there.

Sounds like the ringing of cell phones and the beeping of incoming text messages just aren't heard in Camp Half Blood. I wonder how many kids here actually know how to use technology? I mean, I do because I grew up with my Mom in the real world but what about the kids that grow up here? What about the teenagers whose families have abandoned them and are year-rounders?

Maybe that's why everyone acted so shocked when, a few hours ago at dinner, the shrill ringing of the ancient phone – one of those with the curly cords and the spinning dial that you use instead of numbered buttons – that sits in Chiron's office cut through the air.

The usual dull roar that accompanies every meal was replaced by a suspicious and questioning silence that never, I repeat never, happens at Camp Half Blood. Put a bunch of hungry, ADHD teenagers in one area with plenty of food surrounded by their friends, and you haven't a prayer in all of Olympus of getting them quiet. But the phone did.

It was eerie, the way that all heads turned to look towards the Big House, almost as if we expected some horrible monster to come charging out. None did, obviously, but our reactions would be more fit for an event like that than the simple trilling of a landline phone.

Maybe a half a second passed before Chiron jolted up from his position at the head table next to Mr. D and cantered off towards the Big House, the swish of his horse's tail with the force of his departure sending the silverware clattering and shaking. Chiron's abrupt movement and the now faint pounding of his hooves were not abnormally loud. In fact, any other day, such noises wouldn't have been even worth reacting to… but this could be due to the fact that on a normal day, noises like those wouldn't have been heard over the regular sounds of demigods eating. Regardless, we all jumped.

I think that was proof of just how scared and shocked we all were.

We freaking jumped.

Not the kind of jump that little kids do when they are too short to reach something. The kind of jump you involuntarily do as a knee-jerk reaction to something that startles you.

It isn't any abnormal feat for people to startle in response to loud noises. My mom, for example, is the kind of lady who is very jumpy. I accidentally set my glass down on top of my plate during dinner once, making a clinking sound, and you would have thought that somebody just dropped a bomb down on our house. Honest.

But see, those kinds of reactions are reserved for normal people. People whose scariest moment involves killing a spider (okay yes, Annabeth, I know that is terrifying to do) or flying in a plane with a petrifying of heights (ow, geez Thalia, there is no need to throw lightning at me!). In other words, not demigods like us.

We are tough. We expect the unexpected. We know how to face our fears. We act brave and fearless in the face of danger. We toe the line between the dead and the living by simply existing. We are in mortal peril every single day. We know how to fight for our lives because we've been doing it for, well, all our lives. We are battle-hardened soldiers. We are protectors of things most people aren't even aware they need to be protected from.

We are demigods.

And yet, the thing that scares us enough to make us all collectively jump ten feet into the air is the sounds of a centaur rising and running. The embarrassment that was clearly written in the blushes and smiles on everybody's faces would have been funny, if we hadn't immediately lapsed into tense silence barely a second later. I guess everybody was too tense to joke around.

After a few seconds, we all stopped staring at the red door of the Big House that Chiron had disappeared behind just a few moments earlier and slowly turned back to our meals because, c'mon guys, we are still ADHD. But we ate silently and solemnly, if we ate anything more at all. Most of us just picked at our food and moved it around on our plates, appetites gone with the shock of the situation.

You may think we were all overreacting, and in reality, we probably were. But we've been trained through the course of our short and usually miserable lives that whenever something totally unexpected happens, nothing good comes out of it. The last time the phone rang at camp, well, I don't remember. It was probably before I came which just further proves how rare the phone ringing is. Even Mr. D was less grumpy than usual, which wasn't much of an improvement I have to say.

I glanced sideways at Annabeth, who was worrying her lower lip and tracing invisible patterns on the scarred wood of the Athena table. She was probably running through all the possible outcomes and causes and still coming up without a plausible answer. I was just about to go over to her, when suddenly the door to the Big House opened and Chiron's silhouette could be seen in the doorway.

"Perseus Jackson, a word please."

I've stood before the Olympians' Council. I've returned from the very depths of Tartarus. Heck, I've even asked out Annabeth Minerva Chase, daughter of Athena. And yet, when I heard Chiron bellow those words, I felt strangely like I was being lead up to the gallows.

With every eye glued to me, I quickly schooled my face to mask my worry, my terror, and, worst of all, the flashbacks that were pushing into my mind with this whole situation and stood up with all the confidence and grace I could manage. My face a picture of solemnity and curiosity, I met Annabeth's eyes and managed a grin. It was a fake smile and she knew it, but she smiled back slightly regardless, thankful for my attempt to make her feel better.

Shoulders back and head held high, I jogged easily over to where Chiron was waiting, pausing only slightly to duck inside the red building, and looked at my mentor curiously.

I've gotten good at reading people. When you've fought your way as a powerful influencer in two wars, you kind of learn the art of picking up on little indicators that hint at hidden emotions.

I wasn't happy with the feeling I was getting from Chiron. He looked aged and tired. We all look that way after everything we've seen and done, but he looked more than just weary. He looked almost… sad? Unsettled by the direction my thoughts were turning with my overactive imagination always assuming the worst, I decided to break the silence.

"Chiron, what's going on?"

He looked at me with those ancient, soulful eyes and gestured to a seat. He was stalling, which made me even more nervous. My ADHD was going crazy and every cell in my body was charged with a nervous buzz, so the last thing I wanted to do was sit down and wait for him to speak. But out of respect for him and my own curiosity to know what in the name of all the gods was going on, I sat without complaint.

My eyes darted around the room, resting on the greatest offender of all in the room, the telephone. I didn't stare at the phone because it had scared all of camp to Olympus and back, but because it wasn't resting in its cradle. I didn't know that much about telephones with cords, but I had thought that the way you hung up was by setting it back down it the cradle. The cradle was empty and the curled black cord lead to the phone only a few inches away, lying on the desk.

That's when my brain made the connection. Whoever had called camp, was still on the other line.

I was just beginning to process what this might mean for me, for Chiron, and for camp, when the centaur spoke in a voice that was suspiciously soft.

"Percy, your mother is one the phone. She says it's urgent."

Terror washed over me and I was sure that if I hadn't taken Chiron's offered seat, then I would have stumbled backwards.

My head whipped back towards the phone and I reached for the offending device, snatching it from its seemingly innocent position on the desk and holding it up to my ear.

"Hello? Mom?" I asked urgently into the receiver.

I didn't have to wait long to hear a whispered response from the other end.

"Percy! Percy, you have to listen to me!" my mother's desperate voice begged from the other end of the phone.

My fear for her increased exponentially when I heard her voice. Annabeth would call it my "hero complex" but I wanted to rush over and save her from whatever or whoever was causing her to sound so scared.

"Mom?" I tentatively asked after a few seconds of silence passed again. When she spoke again, there was something different in her tone.

"I can't why now, Percy, but you need to come home. Right now."

There was a clicking sound, and the line went dead. I lowered the receiver from where it had been pressed against my head with wooden movements and set it quietly back into its cradle. I couldn't help but think that something terrible was coming, but I couldn't think what.

That was a few hours ago that I heard the panic and fear in my mother's voice, but as I hastily shove my belongings into a duffle bag, I ponder them once more. I tossed an extra bag of ambrosia on top and zipped up the bag. The sun was beginning to set, and I easily tossed my backpack over one shoulder and picked up the duffle, surveying my now empty cabin in the pink-tinged light of twilight.

Would I ever be back?

I shook my head, as if the motion would knock such depressing thoughts from my head, and strode out of my cabin, shutting the door firmly behind me.

Chiron had told me not to tell anybody anything, including Annabeth, so I didn't have any good-byes to say. Normally, I would have protested against leaving without telling anybody, especially after what we've all been through, but I got the feeling, as I often did with Chiron, that he knew more than he was letting on.

Argus was waiting in the Camp van to drive me to the bus stop. I wanted nothing more than to run back to the warmth of the campfire and sit down between Annabeth and Grover. My mind showed me happy scenarios where I forgot all about my mother, threw my stuff back in my cabin, and continued on to campfire with the rest of my friends. With the rest of my family.

But I could never do that, and I wouldn't leave my mother if she needed me. I walked down the shadowed hill and got in the car. Argus didn't say anything, something I was grateful for because I didn't think I would be very good conversation right at the moment. Argus started the van and began to drive away. I craned my neck around and twisted in my seat to glimpse my home one last time, before settling back in my seat.

'Well, Percy, it looks like the quiet life was never for you,' I thought to myself.

'What was I thinking? Did I actually expect that everything would be peaceful for all of eternity? With luck like mine, I should have known better.'

AN: I am SO sorry! Wow, there was NEVER supposed to be this much time in between updates. Ah! I'm sorry, guys!

I can't really offer any excuses other than I had like 2 essays and a movie project due and I was SUPER busy with homework so I had no time to write! October is one of my busiest months (I turned sixteen!), but I pinky swear promise to update quicker next time!

Whew! Now that my apologies are out of the way… can I just say WOW?!

I never expected to get so many reviews and follows/favorites just from the first chapter! I literally don't know how to express my happiness, joy, and pure elation!

I am SO glad that you guys like my writing and this plot! I thought that maybe one or two people would like it, but I was blown away with the number of people who thought this wasn't total garbage! THANK YOU EVERYONE! Your reviews made me smile, laugh, and gave me inspiration!

This chapter was hard for me to write, but please review and tell me what you liked.

Up next time… Dumbledore goes with Harry, Sirius, and Remus to the Jackson house!

~ Amethyst Raindrops 16 ~