A/N: Fun fact: originally, the letter Y was going to be an argument between a few of the characters about Yankees vs Red Sox (Red Sox Nation all the way!) but then the characters started telling me to stop before they got horribly out of character. Literally- in my mind, they were debating whether the number of pennants in the past should affect the team's standing now, and then Travis turned to me and told me to stop writing. Should I get a therapist? Yes. Will I? No.

Anyway, I'm not sure if I like this one or not. Here's the story: one of Percy's eighth grade classmates is looking back at his old yearbook, and can't remember for the life of him the name of that kid with the black hair and weird green eyes. Basically, a few moments of Percy's eighth grade year through the eyes of a mortal. Enjoy, and tell me what you think!

Also, I've gone back and revised Edge, too. It's still a drabble, but reworked a bit, and the theme is different. Give it a shot.

He probably wouldn't be obsessing over this kid if his memories weren't so blurred, like there was a fine layer of mist over everything having to do with the mystery man.

Yearbook

Chris Nathanson looked down at the picture in the yearbook with a puzzled expression. He could name all the people in his eighth grade class picture except that one, right there on the end of the second row. Why they hadn't included names was beyond him. The kid had black hair and a smirk on his face. Chris was pretty sure he had… blue eyes? Wait, no, those weird green ones. No, Chris was not some creeper that remembered everyone's eye color. That kid was just… striking. That was it. He always looked like he was in pain, and his eyes practically shone with contempt for everyone else.

Patrick. Yeah… no.

And, if Chris remembered correctly, this was the same kid that tried to impale the history teacher—or maybe it was the school nurse?—with a yardstick. What a psycho—you'd think Chris would remember his name. Things like this always bugged him. He probably wouldn't be obsessing over this kid (it was, after all, a school for "troubled" children) if his memories weren't so blurred, like there was a fine layer of mist over everything having to do with the mystery man.

Peter? No, it wasn't quite right, but it was close.

Earlier that year, too. Chris and his friends had been asking the kid why he'd left his old school. It wasn't like newbies came to their small school very often, and almost never in eighth. The kid automatically looked uncomfortable at the question, mumbling that he got expelled. When Chris's friends teased him about it, though, the boy had snapped and told them that he'd been blamed for exploding his school's gymnasium. The outburst was followed by a moment of stunned silence, and then the kid was bombarded with a round of new questions—did he actually do it? Why? How? Or if he didn't, who did? Was the explosion cool?

Perry. P, p, p… ugh!

And that damned pen. The kid always—always—carried around this normal, blue, ballpoint pen. Even during gym class, he stuck it down his shoe. Maybe he had separation anxiety, or something. If anyone asked to borrow the pen, he got this funny smile on his face, and responded with a resounding "Nope." In fact, the only time Chris had seen the mysterious boy without his trusty sidekick was when he stabbed the teacher with the yardstick. Weird—maybe someone stole the pen, and he went insane. He never came back to school after that day, anyway, so that theory made some sense.

Per…Percy! That was his name. Percy Jackson. Short for—what was it?—Perseus. A Roman hero, or something of the sort.

How could he have forgotten about old Percy Jackson? Now that he remembered the name, the memories started to come back more clearly. He was funny, in an off kind of way. A bit dim-witted at times, but no more than your average teenage guy. And there was that whole disorder thing he had—ADD, was it? He was always either completely spaced out or tapping that pen anxiously on his desk, like he expected a bomb to drop any second.

Percy had hung out with Chris's group of friends sometimes, although he was mostly kind of a loner. No one had bothered to keep in touch after the whole "yardstick incident" (after which every single yardstick in the school was given to charity). In fact, he didn't even know where Percy had gone after that fiasco. Maybe he was shut up in a mental hospital. Or roaming the railroads. Or maybe he was just doing what Percy Jackson did best: causing trouble at another school somewhere.

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