Kiddos, don't go to big kid parties. They're loud, like to the point where your eardrums are begging for death, and there's a lot of alcohol (no thanks. I like being in full control of my mind, thank you very much).
Which is why I immediately regret agreeing to go to the party with Blackjack. I spend the first bit of it absolutely miserable. Tyson had all but vanished the second we had entered, an impressive trick considering his size and appearance, and Blackjack is… Also nowhere to be found. Are they trying to tell me something? I'm not exactly a social butterfly but I'd prefer it if I didn't have to stand around awkward as hell and looking like a total loner with a cup of god-knows-what that I have no intention of drinking.
I don't know, all I know is that I waste a good portion of the night making sure that I kept a clear head and a cool temper not to knock someone's block off when they won't leave me alone. Which, surprisingly, isn't all that hard. I don't know what time it is when I finally find spy Blackjack's unruly head of hair in a crowd, so I ditch my sentry in a not-that-quiet corner and easily slip unnoticed through the throng of people and noise.
"Blackjack!" I call as he rounds a corner with a decent sized group of people. It's too dark to distinguish any of them but one familiar face is enough, right?
Thankfully, he hears my voice and turns around, his face lighting up in what I'm going to call guilt-disguised-as-joy. His fault for ditching me. "Hey, Boss!" he calls, sucking me into a conversation with his friends. After most of the introductions (they're all his friends and I find that I don't recognize any of them), they let me stand there and pretend to be listening in on the conversations without actually having to partake in any. This will probably be the extent of my social interactions so, I think I can just-
I spoke too soon. Way, way soon. Like, the universe hates me and likes to singularly cut me out of the vast majority of people just to torture me as an individual. I mean, I never did anything wrong, I live a decent life, maybe a few slip-ups here and there but nothing major, I like to think. I try, I have a good relationship with my mom, I care about my brother probably more than allotted, that should give me some good credits with karma, right? Wrong. All I know is one second I'm hearing a guy named Guidon going on about something or other, and the next something darts out, clamping their hand around my upper arm with surprising strength and whirling me away down the hall.
"What the hell-"
"Where have you been," the person, apparently female (she has a nice voice, I think before dispelling that from my memory) cuts me off, acting like I'm, I dunno, her boyfriend or something. And she sounds pretty annoyed. Inexplicably, that worries me a little. "Do you know how hard it is to find someone in this place?"
She drags me into the nearest room, yanking me away from the door and shoving me against the wall only to quickly reside right beside me. Okay, I think, enough is enough, what the hell is going on!? "Who are you-" is all I'm able to get out before she claps a hand over my mouth, silencing me… And simultaneously cutting off my air.
This lasts a full five seconds before I finally get fed up. It's not like I really mean to, of course, I wouldn't want someone to lick my hand either but it was instinct, I swear! And it's not technically my fault, I have this thing where my lungs kinda require oxygen, and this person seems to be very intent on me not getting it.
Her entire hand went rigid with disgust but she ceased to let go. Fortunately, her hand slipped and I could suck in a breath through my nose. In the dim light and out of the corner of my eye, my brain recognizes her face, but doesn't put a name to it… Don't blame me for not getting it immediately, the music had done a number on my brain.
After a while, her hand finally goes slack and she jerks it back as if I had bitten her. I can feel her eyes piercing into my head, glaring with a passionate fury. My internal reaction is immediately a little scared and intimidated by this, but I quickly bury it in indignation… Indignation, quite an odd and uncharacteristically sophisticated word for me to think- focus Percy! "What the heck?!" she exclaims.
"I could say the same thing," I say sternly, crossing my arms and finally settling with glaring right back at her.
"You just licked my hand," she cries in outrage. I roll my eyes. And I thought I was being immature when I did it. Her response inadvertently reminds me of kindergarten or something, still obsessed with the boy-girl rivalry that I'm pretty sure parents invented to amuse themselves at their children's expense- dang it, I'm off task again! Stupid ADHD.
"I refuse to feel embarrassed about this when you're the one who grabbed me," I snap back. "I'm turning on the lights now." As soon as that's done, I instantly wish it wasn't. What she is wearing… Wasn't at all conservative. It showed off… Quite a lot. A dark red, low-cut V-neck short sleeve shirt hugs her upper body and miles of tan legs (how the hell does someone get tan in New York at this time of year?) are exposed by flimsy jean shorts. Not that I'm looking.
Don't look lower, don't look lower, don't look lower, don't look lower, I chant to myself as I dart my gaze back up to her eyes. Her intimidating and startlingly grey eyes. Suddenly, I realize there is something much, much worse about my predicament. Not only am I having to beat back certain thoughts with a mental stick, I finally realize that I actually recognize this person. Does the universe hate me for existing or something? I swear; out to get me!
"Woa, woa… Annabeth?" I question, panicking a little. This is not good. Not. Good. At. All.
"Percy," she greets dismissively in return, wiping her hand on her leg. I swallow, trying to keep my mind as far away from the gutter as possible. My success is varied, but gimme a break, I'm a teenage guy with shitty hormones and I've been inhaling alcohol fumes for the better part of two hours. Some things are just outside of my control…
"Um…" I try for a coherent sentence.
"What?" she questions, and I panic. I have no idea if she's actually able to hurt me physically, but given her grip when she toted me in here, I'm not ready nor willing to take that chance. Quickly I begin thinking of something, shaking out my brain for an answer that won't get me in trouble.
"You look…um… Different?" Good job Percy, I think sarcastically.
"Can't say any different for you." she responds coolly. Well crap.
"Yeah," I say, forgetting my current situation and allowing myself to dwell on the frustration of my different wardrobe I've been harboring all night. "Apparently I have to look halfway decent if I'm going out in public with my friends." I rub the back of my neck, embarrassed. Then, I realize that it kind of sounds like I'm making myself, I don't know, presentable. Quickly, I add, "I look ridiculous, don't I?"
"N-no, not at all," she stammers, inexplicably flushing. Must be the alcohol.
I brush it off and respond with, "Thanks for the moral support, but, yeah, I kind of do."
"Please, if anything, I look completely ridiculous."
I swallow. "No, you don't look ridiculous."
Different? Yes. Completely out of her comfort zone? Yes. Way more alluring than logical reasoning permits? Hell yes (and I am going to pretend that last one never happened). But ridiculous? Far from it.
"A little un-..." I continue, contemplating how to explain this without receiving a (probably well-deserved) slap. Or worse. "Annabeth, I guess. But it's not... Bad."
A quiet and gracious 'thank you' slips her lips after that and I get the feeling she's uncomfortable with compliments so I move on by asking why she dragged me off in the first place. She goes on to tell me about how she's here against her will, also, and explaining that a group of guys had been harassing her previously and she'd wanted to ditch them. I ask about names and she lets slip that one of them had been Jason. It's possible that it could have been the actual Golden Boy, scarred lip and all.
For some reason that bothers me. A lot. Like, really a lot. Not just the fact that Jason Grace had been involved in harassing an innocent bystander, but just the fact that Annabeth had been harassed in general. I don't know why, this girl had barely spoken more than a few sentences to me since we'd met those many years ago and pretty much acted like an ice queen inhabiting the ice age the whole time. She seems a little defrosted this time, though. Or, at least, less frosty than a glacier.
After explaining a few more things, I insist on helping her find her friend, whom, once I find out it's Silena Beauregard, I remember spotting in the kitchen. And it's only because I was raised right as a gentleman and not because I like talking to her. Even though the polite small talk is literally painful. Sure enough, Silena's completely and utterly wasted when we locate her. Thoroughly intoxicated, drunk off her ass, however you want to say it, there is too much alcohol in her for her to be anywhere near functioning like any definition of a normal human being. Yeah, that bad. Like, hysterically-and-randomly-hurling-empty-glass-bottles-at-the-wall-and-then-hysterically-and-randomly-laughing bad.
Anyway, Annabeth has me send her red-headed friend a message to get her own ride home but I slip away in the dark parking lot before we have to exchange awkward goodbyes. Once I'm back inside, the traitors known as Blackjack and Tyson are missing for about another hour before I finally find them, and it's another thirty minuets before I manage to drag them out.
Blackjack is completely out of it, and Tyson's a little giggly. Maybe I'll lend them a little sympathy next time they drag me to a party against my own will to act as designated driver but, probably not. I would like to say I kept thinking about my encounter with Annabeth all night, but really, it isn't until the next school day that I really think about it much, after I see her in the hallway.
About a week past after that, and not much else happens. Annabeth goes straight back to being icy and kind of scary. I go to classes, attend swimming practice, doing all my usual stuff. Things are normal- as if that crazy loud, annoying night had never even happened.
Then I just have to take Mrs. O'Leary for a walk.
Mrs. O'Leary is our huge black mastiff the size of a garbage truck. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. The size of a large horse. You get the point, she's huge, and she's my dog. She used to belong to my neighbor, Mr. Quintus, before he passed away. Mrs. O'Leary had always been fond of me and Tyson, so he had decided that we were the best people to take care of her. Not that it's a bad thing, I love her to death and she's an awesome extension to our family that we begged and pleaded from our knees for our mom to accept, it's just that... She's the cause for this to happen.
I had decided to take her for a walk in the dog park. The walk is fine, the sun is shining, the dogs are sniffing other dogs' butts, Mrs. O'Leary is giving me a personal introduction to the grass… Yeah, all in good fun.
"Woa, girl!" I shout as my over-sized dog drags me along as if I'm no more than a paperclip rather inconveniently tied to a rope around her neck. I'm barely keeping my feet up as the enormous bunch of black fur in front of me streaking along the park. Every once in a while, I try to dig my feet into the ground to stop her, but it's like trying to stop a NASCAR car with a leash. Yeah, you can guess how well that worked out: pointless and totally not worth the straining effort.
I really can't be blamed for what happens next, it is completely the dog's fault, no joke. Mrs. O'Leary suddenly stops, but I, of course, keep going, slamming into someone with a shout. We tumble over each other, both of us grunting as we unwillingly hit the dirt.
First thing I see when I open my eyes is Mrs. O'Leary bothering a Rottweiler attached to a thick multicolored leash. Second is a curtain of blond hair. Uh-oh, please don't tell me- I push myself up only to discover I had mowed over none other than Annabeth Chase. Seriously Universe? What did I ever do to you? Did I commit some cosmic crime in a past life or by accident or something? Seriously. Okay, maybe it sounds unlikely but it's possible. Ha, hey, it's pawsible! Get it, get it? Oh my god, if ADHD had a neck I would gladly like to strangle it right about now.
I scramble off her immediately. "Sorry, sorry, I am so sorry," I apologize, offering a hand to help her up. She ignores it with a halfhearted "It's fine", pushing herself to her own feet. Now, I realize she's the one holding the leash with the Rottweiler on it.
"You have a dog?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. Annabeth doesn't really seem like the dog type. Or cat type. Not even the goldfish type… If that's even a thing. Basically I can't really imagine her with a pet, period. And yet, here she is.
"No," she says coldly and abruptly (big surprise).
My eyes flicker between her and the Rottweiler questioningly. She still doesn't get it for a few moments so I'm just standing there stupidly whisking my eyes back and forth before she finally understands and says, "I'm just helping your cousin, Nico. His dad gave him this mutt and the dog seems to like me, so..."
Well, that's news to me. Wait, how does she know Nico's my cousin- aw, forget it.
I clear my throat. "I, uh, didn't know Nico got a dog. What's his name?" I ask, trying to make conversation. Why? Search me.
"Cerberus."
Of course Nico would name his pet after the primordial hell-beast that guards the gates to the lands of the dead. Because it's Nico. What else could Nico's pet possibly be named? He certainly wouldn't name it Fluffy, or something. Still... Cerberus? Really?
Cerberus sniffs at Mrs. O'Leary, and she barks in response at him, prompting a similar reply. I wisely let go of the leash before they start to bolt away to play. Annabeth, however, is not so fortunate. She's pulled back to the ground as Cerberus goes bounding after my dog.
I try not to snicker as she gets up, doing a bad, bad job of hiding it. She gives me a glare so severe it burns a pair of smoldering holes in my very soul. Yeah, that bad. I swallow, attempting to regain my pride as she brushes bits of dirt and grass out of her hair, looking at me as if I had kicked her mom or something.
"Sorry," I offer.
She crosses her arms and I kick the dirt awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. "So… How was… Stuff? After the party." I try really hard not to remember the outfit she had worn. That would not help right now.
"Stuff was good," she nods, looking a bit awkward herself. It occurs to me just how bad at communicating and, well, being around people in general she is, as well. "Selina was hungover for a while. She was really out of it."
I snort at that. That much had been obvious. I wouldn't have been surprised if she had died of alcohol poisoning. Saddened, yeah. But from the condition she was in, no, I really couldn't exactly say I'd have been surprised.
"Yeah…" I trail off, not knowing what else to say. This must be a record for our longest conversation. I really don't know what to do from this point. I have no clue what kind of small talk to make, or what to say to her. She does look nice today, though. I could say that. Her loose grey sweater is definitely back to Annabeth-apparel along with (long) faded blue jeans.
Yeah… No. I'd rather keep my head attached to my body, thank you very much.
"So…" she tries. "Is that your dog? The one trying to flatten Cerberus?"
"Yeah," I nod, "her name's Mrs. O'Leary. She was kind of a gift, I mean, her old owner died and he gave her to me right before he passed on. He had lung cancer, but I heard he went peacefully. I wasn't there… Am I rambling?"
"Yes."
"Good to know." I figuratively kick myself in the back of my head. That was an embarrassing move. Now I probably look like some kind of dorky idiot (which, in a way, I kind of am but I what little ego I have begs to differ). I bite my lip, trying to think of something. "How's life?"
Ok, I deserve to be beat up for that one.
Annabeth shrugs. "Fine, I guess. Just, normal stuff." Then she tilts her head. "Hey, doesn't your mom work at the candy shop a few streets over? My little brothers love that place." Well, I'm learning all kinds of new stuff about Annabeth. She walks dogs and apparently has little siblings. Not at all things I'd have her pegged down for.
It's my turn to shrug a bit. "Yeah. She's been working there for a while now. I think she's gonna quit soon though."
"Oh." She sounds so neutral about it. And everything else.
"How'd she end up working in a place like that anyway," she says suddenly. "She seems like way too smart a person to end up working in a place like that at her age." I swallow. That was... Kind of intrusive.
"Well, we've fallen into some bad times. My Dad kind of screwed us over and we landed in kind of a bad spot. She, Tyson and I have been doing the best we can since. My old stepdad didn't help things at all."
There's another silence after that for a while. This is… Really, really awkward. I almost wish that there was some kind of crisis or something, but all we get are the barking dogs and one really annoying Yorkshire dog that kept yipping at me.
"So…" I finally say. "How's the whole watching Nico's dog thing working out so far?"
"Fine. I'm kind of training him a bit. He's addicted to rubber balls." She answers me simply. "He keeps destroying them, though. Honestly it's kind of cute, but I'll be giving him back to Nico soon, so it doesn't really matter." She says it with such finality, she almost makes me feel hopeless. And I kind of like looking to the bright side, it's all I have left.
"You're kind of a downer, you know that?" I deadpan flatly.
"So? It's not like things are going to last forever. I'm hardly going to see Cerberus again after I finish training him for Nico. What's the point in getting attached?"
I tilt my head. That was… Deep stuff. It seems like what she's talking about
"Kind of a bleak outlook, don't you think," I ask, frowning. She sighs, shaking her head as if I had just said something incredibly stupid and naive.
"Look, it's the truth. Any friends I make are just going to end up leaving after high school, same with any romantic connections. So why put myself though that? I'd rather spare myself the pain- and the effort. I don't really need a lot of people anyway."
"Is that why you have a sting of two-day-old relationships?" I ask bluntly. That stops her right in her tracks. Her eyes widen with something like indignation (hey, there's that word again- and shutting up now)… Or something else. I'm not good at reading people. Sue me.
"What?" she demands in a dangerously even tone.
"You have such a string of boyfriends. What is it, you actually try and then just psyche yourself out because of this 'it will end in tragedy' stuff?" Am I being rude and invasive? Yes. Should I shut up right about now? Yes. Should I quit while I was unharmed? Of course. Do I?
Haha… No.
"I mean, you can't just go through life like that. You'll end up some lonely person living by-OW!"
She smacks me. Actually smacks me. And it really hurts, dear lord this girl is stronger than she looks! It's like getting a full force blow from Bekendorf! I think I'm going to have a nicely colored purple bruise on my forearm when I get home.
"You just…"
"Yes. Yes I did." She turns and whistles, calling Cerberus over. The black and tan Rottweiler abandons his playmate to rush over to his trainer. She reclaims his leash, and without another word to me, begins walking out of the park.
I blink a couple times, not quite knowing what I did wrong. I just about to call her over, but that's when the universe decides to bite me in the arse, a quick wake-up or whatever you want to call it to remind me that this isn't my problem, no matter how much it itches me. Mrs. O'Leary slams into my side with full force, turning me into a Percy-Pancake once again. She licks my face a few times, drenching me.
"…Ow." is all I have to say.
Hey, so, it's actually PersnicKety2018, I just wanna say that the lateness of this chapter is completely my fault. RNC gave it to me practically months ago but I got caught up in other things and forgot to edit. Some of the writing is my own since RNC's busy with Story Number Fifty-Three or something like that but all credit is his. No promises on the punctuality of the next chapter since it's my turn next but it'll be out sometime...
It would mean a lot to let us know what you think in the little box to the bottom right!
~`~ PersnicKety2018
P.S. Until I can get a blow torch, night vision goggles, a flame thrower, and some duct tape, all Percy Jackson characters do not belong to me or RNC.