Percy

On a small stretch of sand by the shore, a lone girl sat on a long towel, the beach fully enclosed by high cliffs of rock and stone. Her head was tilted back as she watched the grey clouds pass over the sun, and her blonde curls cascaded over her shoulder, messily bundled together. She wore a modest blue bikini that flattered her tanned skin, and a New York Yankees cap lay beside her.

There was an empty towel stretched out on the shore beside her, but no one claimed the space. White piles of sand surrounded the girl, and a trail of footprints led to an expanse of water that stretched on for miles into the horizon, but no one else could be seen. The beach was cloaked in an empty silence; the only sound the gentle lapping of tiny waves on the shore and the occasional whistle of wind between fissures of rock.

For minutes, nothing happened; not even the slightest ripple disturbed the calm water or smallest of bubbles rose to the surface. It was almost as if the girl's companion had vanished. Then something shot out of the ocean, and a swirl of black messy hair flying through the air, drops of salty water raining down as a boy's head bobbed up and down. The girl on the beach rolled her eyes, but smiled happily as the boy swam to the shore and dropped down beside her, leaving a trail of puddles in his wake.

They lay facing each other, propped up on one elbow. Their eyes bore intently onto one another's until the boy slowly leaned forward and brushed the girls lips with his. He whispered something into her ear – something that made her smirk – and gently brushed a stray stand of hair from her cheek. He tapped her nose lightly with his finger and whispered something else. Confusion fluttered across the girl's face before she burst out laughing, a sweet, melodic sound, like the nine muses playing a strain of harmonious notes, but a thousand times more beautiful.

The sound echoed through my head as my mind slowly drifted out of slumber. The girl's laughter began to flutter away, and was replaced by a loud banging, harsh in comparison.

"Percy!" The muffled voice of my mum called through the closed door. "Time for school!"

I sighed and rolled over. That was the sixth time I'd had the same dream of Annabeth and me. I knew they weren't demigod dreams, though, because they most definitely weren't nightmares. The complete opposite, in fact. So why did they send shivers down my spine?

The door creaked open, and my mum stood before me, smirking.

"Did you have a good sleep, Percy?" She asked sweetly.

I groaned and buried my face in my hands, embarrassed. Apparently, I talked in my sleep, or so I was constantly told. All six nights I'd dreamt of Annabeth, and all six nights my mum had heard me muttering her name in the early hours of the morning.

She chuckled and sat beside me. "Don't worry, honey. It's perfectly normal to dream about the people you care for."

"For normal teenagers, maybe..." I mumbled, my eyes hidden behind my fingers.

"Your father may be a god, but that doesn't change anything. You're still a teenaged boy, and experience the same feelings normal teenaged boys do."

That's exactly what I'd passed it off as at first. Either that, or Aphrodite was messing with me again. But as the week moved on, I started to think that maybe it wasn't just a normal dream. Throughout my entire life, I'd had very few dreams that didn't mean anything. So when something that seemed harmless was repeatedly reoccurring, that would, to mortals, be simply muddled up emotions or hormones, to me it always felt like a warning. I couldn't let anything happen to Annabeth - I would take a knife for her any day without evening batting an eye. These dreams felt like a warning: your love for this girl is your weakness, and we know it, or whatever weird things monsters came up with these days.

I sighed heavily and looked my mum, my kind, caring, beautiful mother in the eye, I tried my best to show her how freaked out I was.

"But what if it's not?" The question was barely even a whisper, but she heard it nevertheless.

Her warm hand rubbed circles on my back. "Tell me, Percy. I may not be an expert on these sort of things, but if it were a 'demigod dream', then wouldn't you see something bad?"

"Maybe... I don't know! I can't tell whether to be worried or to just pass it off as nothing, because from experience– wait. How do you know whether it was a bad dream or not?" I hadn't told her about the dreams, she just knew, and occasionally made a teasing comment about them. Unfortunately, Paul was usually around when she decided to make fun of me, so the embarrassment was only... oh, a hundred times worse? Give or take a few.

"Because, Percy, you've been smiling in your sleep. And drooling. You only smile like that when you're thinking about Annabeth."

I blushed and glanced at my pillow. Sure enough, there was a sufficient wet patch taking its time drying.

My mum hugged me, stood, and said, "Now, you better get ready for school. There are waffles in the kitchen and bus money in your bag. And, Percy?"

I looked up at her. "Yeah?"

"Everything will be fine, sweetie. Don't worry too much, okay?" She smiled, and made all of my worries vanish.

"Okay."


My stepdad, Paul Blofis, stood at the front of the classroom, chalk in hand. His mouth was moving, opening and closing, but all I heard was a faint buzzing, like an annoying bee circling around my head. Despite living with an expert and teacher of the subject, I hated English. Not only were there words involved, but we had to study the words, too. Give me a sword and I'll slice and dice the nearest monster to dust, no problem. But words? Since first grade, in at least seven different schools, teachers who range from short and fat to old and half-blind have told me that, "Reading a book isn't Rocket Science." What I didn't tell them was that, as a dyslexic, ADHD demigod, I'd completely agree with that statement if the book were in Ancient Greek. And even then, it wouldn't be easy to read.

That annoying buzzing sound lessened as I zoned out completely, the jumbled words on the board blurring into a black and white mess. The toe of my shoe tapped softly on the floor, keeping a steady beat with the second hand on the clock. I managed to count 354 taps before the siren rang, effectively piercing through the silent, thoughtless bubble I'd been happily trapped in for those 354 seconds. I was the first to my feet, snatching my books off the desk and heading to the front of the room before anyone else had started moving. As I passed Paul's desk, he gave me a silent and discreet glance with an obvious meaning: stay behind. I inwardly sighed and took a few steps back as the rest of the class rushed out.

As soon as the last person stepped through the door, Paul spoke, "Percy, I know we agreed to keep home and school separate, but I'm going to have to break that promise."

"I had a feeling you would," I mumbled.

He chuckled softly, but his expression quickly turned serious. "Your mother told me you've been distracted lately with… your kind of things. It's hardly my area of expertise, but if you need to talk about it, man-to-man, I'm here for you, Percy." He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, and I couldn't help thanking the gods that my mum had finally found someone decent, and wasn't still stuck with Smelly Gabe.

"Thanks, Paul."

He smiled and nodded towards the door. I wanted to say something else, to tell him how grateful I was that he was looking out for me, but I didn't know how. I just had to hope he somehow knew.

As I was walking out, Paul called, "And, Percy. I handed in the permission slip this morning. For your swimming race tomorrow."

I thanked him again before I left and found my locker. Waiting for me was a tanned, brown-haired boy around the same height as me, with his arms crossed against his chest and back pressed against my locker door, blocking my way.

"So, Perce," he said, "rumour has it that you hooked up with Katie in the storage room. True or false?"

"False, Chris. I have a girlfriend." I pushed him out the way and twirled my lock.

Chris smirked. "Right. The girl you go to summer camp with who none of us have met. What was her name again? Anna-something?"

"Annabeth. And there's a reason you haven't met her, man."

Despite his characteristic flaws, Chris was one of my closest friends at Goode High School. He was on the swim team with me, and usually finished a few seconds behind me in second place. Being the son of Poseidon and all, I have a way with swimming.

Chris liked girls. Full stop. He'd never been in a relationship for more then four days, and had, as he liked to put it, "scored" almost every girl in the tenth grade, along with a growing number all over Manhattan. Some people say that, if he's drunk enough, he can be caught making out with a guy, too.

When we sat down at the lunch table, Chris picked up the conversation again.

"Dude, there are plenty of hot girls who are waiting for you to ask them out, and all that's stopping you is this imaginary girlfriend of yours."

Another swimmer, John, said, "That excuse again? Man, when will you let it go?"

"Don't be stupid, John. Annabeth's real," John's girlfriend, Sophie, said sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes. "You'll meet her tomorrow at the race. If she goes, that is. She hates watching sport."

This caught everyone's attention.

"So, if she goes," Chris clarified. "Why don't you tell her you'll be there?"

I waved my hand. "Long story, but she said she'd probably go if she didn't have too much homework."

"So she's one of those girls," John said. "Too busy with school that she can't watch her boyfriend compete."

I picked at my sandwich as I spoke. "Actually, she doesn't know I'll be there. I thought I'd surprise her."

"How much?" Trent, a school basketball player, asked.

"How much what?" I asked, confused.

He grinned. "How much are you gonna pay this poor girl to pretend to be your girlfriend?"

The table burst out laughing, and I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I reached under my chair and pulled my bag onto the table. From the inside pocket, I took the photo of Annabeth and me sitting on the dock at Camp Half-Blood, holding hands. We were watching the stars, and Annabeth had lifted our joined hands to point out the constellations. Travis and Conner Stoll had snuck up behind us to take this picture, along with two others. We hadn't even known about them until the next morning when we found them plastered all over camp. I smiled at the memory, taking one last glance at the photo before putting it in the middle of the table. I knew it wouldn't be enough, though, so the next one quickly followed. It was another of the Stoll's, only this time we were kissing.

An awed silence fell as the two photos were passed around. A smug smile was plastered on my face as everyone gave me looks of disbelief.

"Why didn't you just show us the pictures before?" Chris asked.

"Because they're supposed to be privet. Annabeth'd kill me if she knew I'd showed you," I told them. One look at John's face, though, and I knew he wasn't convinced. "You still don't believe me, do you?" I asked.

"Dude, for all I know, these could be photo-shopped," John stated, grinning.

Trent nodded his agreement. "You'd have to be pretty darn good with computers, though."

I shrugged, having known they'd find an excuse to doubt me.

"Tomorrow, you'll see."


A/N: You will be seeing from this story soon.

I just felt uploading it might make anyone who is still following this (if anyone is) less worried and probably more comfortable as they can now know if it gets updated or not :)