3.
"Mom, can Annabeth Chase stay until she feels like? We haven't finished the report yet."
"I'm kind of busy, Percy. You drive her home alright? Not too late," she said. Mother forgets I am underage. It is actually much more convenient that you'd expect. "Your room has horrible lighting," she said, once I put the phone down. I bit my lip, thinking of a snarky remark, and she raised an eyebrow at me. "Are you trying to look hot?" she asked. I felt myself go red. "Is it working?"
She smirked, before looking away. "Do you have speakers?" she asked. I shook my head. "We need to get this done so I can send you home." She looked around, before connecting her phone to my speakers. I sighed. "Okay," I said, "Obviously we are not going to work tonight." She pursed her lips, before playing Skinny Love by Bon Iver.
"Do you want to go home?"
"Not now."
"Do you want to work?"
"Not tonight."
This cycle repeated for several days, her music being the only thing that changed. Some nights, it was MGMT, or even the Smiths. But it was mostly Bon Iver. "You listen to actual music," I acknowledged one day, barely containing my smile as she sat down across from me in the cafeteria. She didn't smile, watching me carefully. "Yes," she said, before telling the 'nerds' to fuck off. "I have tickets to possibly the last concert My Chemical Romance will have." Her eyebrow was raised, as if it meant something to me.
"Their last?" I asked, abandoning my lunch. She only nodded, offering no explanation. "You're really predicting an MCR breakup? "
"Absolutely," she said, smiling slightly. "I'm psychic, you know."
"Psychic?"
"Oh, yeah."
"What does your psychicity saying right now?"
"That I will get you a dictionary and make you learn the noun of psychicism or whatever."
"You could spare me the shame and tell me right now."
"Alas," she said, sighing loudly. "I also do not know the noun of psychicness."
"Anyway."
"Anyway?"
"You were about to offer me a ticket to MCR's last concert?"
"Yes," she nodded, as if I were the one who proposed the tickets. "Come with me, Jackson. We will have fun in this rave-like performance of decent music. We will buy overpriced T-shirts and glowsticks and we will sneak backstage to meet them and I will kiss Mikey Way."
"Mikey Way the bassist?"
"Mikey Way the bassist indeed."
"Isn't he like 30?"
"Yes. Almost twice our age, Jackson."
