Annabeth is also having trouble with the social scene.

For all Percy has had difficulties with friendships in the past, he's much better at interpersonal relationships than she is. She may be good at reading people, but she definitely doesn't know how to react when presented with an emotional problem she needs to solve. She can calculate; she can design; she's smart, and she knows it, but – as Piper sometimes teases her – she is not a "people person."

Especially considering that only in very recent years has she begun to start trusting people with her heart again. It's just hard for her to believe, when she really gives a part of herself to someone else, that that person will actually hold on to it. She's lost too many people to be so willing to open up to even more.

And quite frankly, after everything she's gone through, seeming "normal" to the mortals is so far at the bottom of her list of concerns, it's not even on the paper.

So she's been going about her business pretty much the same way as Percy – keeping her head down, staying out of the way. She has to fight the urge to speak up in class, but she doesn't want to stand out in any way. So she participates enough so that her grade will be safe, and settles for shocking the teachers with her perfect scores on tests (okay, so she's only had two quizzes so far, but she knows that when the tests come around, she'll do well on them. It's not even in question).

Maybe once upon a time she wanted to be special, to be noticed – but Annabeth has had enough of being recognized.

If she had to name the specific moment when she became disenchanted with admiration, it'd probably be, oh, when Tartarus himself decided to show his regard for her and Percy by killing them personally.

After that experience, she's had no more desire to be special. She just wants to be alive, and keep Percy alive. And if keeping her head down in school is the only way to do that, then it's what she'll do.

That's not to say that she doesn't notice the other students, though. She's been hyperaware of her surroundings ever since school started, and she knows every one of her classmates' names and makes sure to remember all her encounters with them. It's better to be safe than sorry, after all, and Annabeth is very done with taking risks.

So she recognizes both Henry and Jason when she goes with Percy to meet them in the commons. Jason she doesn't know by name, but she sees him in the halls often enough to recognize his face. Henry she knows because he's in calculus with her. He's pretty quick, but also has an edge to him that she doesn't like. He made an awkward pass at her at the end of last week, but she managed to shut him down easily enough that it wasn't even worth mentioning. Ever since then, he's avoided her gaze in class, and she's more than happy to follow suit.

That particular sentiment isn't specific to Henry, but it certainly applies to him.

"Hi, Henry," she greets him anyway, when they see one another. No point bringing up awkwardness to anyone else. "And you must be Jason?"

She's not going to tell anyone else how hard she laughed at Percy when she found out he'd had another run-in with a Jason who wanted to be his friend. She abstained from asking if the two of them had jousted in a Kansas wheat field yet, but only barely. Honestly, Percy should be relieved by her restraint.

"Yeah." He squints at her, and for a second there's something there that puts her on edge – a flash of something. But then she thinks she must be reading too much into things, because in milliseconds his face is open and friendly again. "Nice to officially meet you." He grins.

He's probably just figuring her out, the same way she is them. But she knows that there's a lot less need for him to have to read her than there is for her. She's had far too many experiences with monsters – and people – to let her guard down for a second.

"Likewise," she responds politely, and sit down in the fourth chair at their table, pulling out her calculus book and hooking her ankle around Percy's. It's nice to touch him, to know that he's there, even in a simple environment like this. She's not sure if that's a paranoia she's ever really going to lose.

She swore to herself she was just going to sit and not interrupt, and she actually does surprisingly well at keeping that promise. There are a few times that she's just dying to jump into their discussion, but then, it wouldn't be authentic if it weren't actually their work, so she manages to restrain herself, trying to focus on her homework instead. She's actually light-years ahead of the rest of the class, having learned most of this stuff in the Athena cabin before she was twelve, so she finishes her homework quickly and starts sketching on the back of her worksheet, as she's wont to do when she's bored.

Most of her work on Olympus is done; at least, when Olympus closed last winter the gods made it pretty clear that they were done with demigod involvement in their affairs. Of course, that lasted about as long as it took Miss Stick-Your-Nose-into-Everything to ruin everything – and at this point, Annabeth's not too keen to ask them if they want her back. She's not too keen to talk to them ever again, in fact. The only thing that would make her ask them would be if Percy didn't manage to graduate, and that –

She doesn't even notice that she's scowling at her worksheet until she realizes that the conversation beside her has stopped; when she looks up, Henry and Jason are staring at her.

Percy puts his hand on hers and squeezes it; the hardness inside her melts a little, softens. She flips her hand over to lace her fingers into his. For a second she wonders what the other two boys think of this interchange; then she remembers that she doesn't care.

"Uh, Annabeth?" ventures Henry. "You okay?"

"Yeah." It's a little more brusque than she would have liked, but she's also very uninterested in continuing this line of conversation. She squeezes Percy's hand, asking him silently to deflect the conversation, and to her relief he understands.

"Let's just go on," he says, and this might be the first time he's ever purposefully drawn attention back to schoolwork. The thought almost makes her smile, if not for the tenseness still locking her jaw together, only slightly relieved by the pressure of Percy's hand against hers.

They start the conversation again, and Annabeth tries to finish the half-drawn sketch, but she didn't even realize until now that she was definitely drawing a temple to her mother, and somehow her hand took over on its own and started sketching the owl that led her through dark caverns underneath Rome, and the whole thought just makes her so angry at her mother, who removed her blessing and sent her off on a dangerous quest with the ravings of a lunatic and led to the most traumatic event in her life and who didn't even apologize –

And somehow she still fought alongside her mother and is now sketching temples for her and it all builds up inside her until she's pressing the pencil so hard into her paper that the lead breaks off with a snap loud enough to arouse the others' attention again.

And suddenly she has to leave; she understands how Percy felt in that meeting with his guidance counselor at the beginning of the year, because she needs to get away from people and pull herself together.

She has slightly more restraint than Percy does, though, so she stands up and says, "Excuse me," as politely as she can, and stalks off to the nearest girls' bathroom, ignoring the half-questions coming from the boys behind her.

She stands in front of the sink, taking deep breaths and fighting down the ugly anger rising up in her chest. She can direct it at the gods, but there's no way that breaking a bathroom mirror will do anything for her at this point. So she stands there and breathes, hissing air between clenched teeth and fisting her hands in her hair until she feels like a person again.

...

Percy knows as soon as Annabeth's pencil breaks what's going on, and it's only reinforced by the fact that she immediately disentangles her fingers from his and storms away from the table. He glances over at her paper and sees a sketch of an owl, and it all comes clear to him.

"That . . . was unexpected," says Jason, looking sideways at Percy, as if wary as to how he'll take it.

Percy tries to shrug it off, but his eyes are glued to the owl on Annabeth's page, and anger starts to melt his chest into a seething pool. Of course she was thinking about her mother. Of course she got up and left so quickly.

Percy's maybe not the best person to say this, considering he's always had trouble with Athena, ever since she told him those famous words I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter. That was the beginning of their . . . relationship, and it's only gotten worse since then.

But this is something completely different.

Well, as far as I know, I've been a lot better for your daughter than you have.

Can Athena hear thoughts? Maybe she can't, or maybe she just realizes that everything he's thinking, she deserves, because no thunder rumbles.

"Percy? Hey, Percy?"

"Sorry." Percy shakes himself out of his thoughts, realizing that his fingers have tightened around his own pencil. "Just . . . thinking. About, um, stuff. What?"

"Is Annabeth . . . ?" Henry's voice trails off. "Uh . . . never mind."

"Look," and Percy realizes that his own voice sounds annoyed now; he tries to dull the edge in it (considering Jason and Henry have nothing to do with his anger) but isn't entirely successful, "let's just . . . get back to the discussion."

Annabeth returns after a few minutes, her hair a little messier than it was before and her face paler but reasonably calm. She slides back into the seat next to Percy and he puts his arm around her shoulder. He can feel the tautness in her neck, and he moves his hand to rub it gently, trying to massage the tension out of it. He forgets the others for a moment as she tilts her head back, closing her eyes, and her curls spill over his hand.

"Guys, actually, I think we have enough," says Jason suddenly. "Let's just . . . is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"It's Act I, King Lear, right?" says Annabeth, not even opening her eyes. "Did you discuss the idea of a reversed parent-child relationship – parents not wanting to acknowledge the validity of their children?"

Percy stiffens. He kind of read that into it, but not fully. He considers stopping Annabeth, but decides to let her keep going.

"Cordelia is the only daughter who doesn't want things from her father – she refuses to lie to him and flatter him just so he'll give her more wealth," she says. Her voice is calm, but Percy can hear the undertones in it. "And in return for her honesty, what does she get? Tossed aside. Punished."

Percy presses his fingers harder at the base of her neck, trying to calm her. But despite everything, he can feel it stiffening even more. She keeps talking: "The fall of a favorite child from the eyes of a mentally-deteriorating parent. The idea that we don't want to be told what we don't want to hear; we only see what we want to see."

By the time she finishes, Jason and Henry are both staring at her. Percy's a little amazed, too – first of all, how does she know King Lear that well when she's not even reading it, but mostly he's just sad and understanding because he knows exactly what she's thinking and why she's thinking it.

"Wow," says Jason finally, breaking the silence. "Um, thanks. I mean, yeah. It's interesting how Cordelia tells Lear the truth, and the other girls just flatter him, and he believes them."

"I mean, her knowing she'll pass from her father to her husband also brings up the issue about the role of women in the society," points out Annabeth, "but that could take the conversation in a completely different direction."

Percy finds it a little hilarious how in two minutes his girlfriend has managed to say more than the three of them came up in their whole half-hour long discussion, but mostly he's just sad that both of them – although especially she – can understand this play so well. Now that he understands what it's about – leave it to Annabeth to give him a concise analysis that completely explains the act to him – he's wondering how much he'll be able to relate to the rest of this play.

"Do we want to write our summaries here or later?" asks Henry, and Percy might not have been averse to just staying and writing them out together except for the fact that Annabeth is still tense beside him and he really just wants to go home with her and spar and release their aggression and be free of this place that suddenly feels too small for them.

"Let's write them at home," he says. "I have other stuff to do this afternoon, and Paul should be done by now." Usually he and Annabeth prefer to walk home because Paul stays later at the school than either of them wants to, but because of this after-school group meeting they're going to catch a ride home with him.

"Works for me," Jason nods. "See you later, Percy, Annabeth." Annabeth, who's already shoved her things into her bag, stands up and nods at them in goodbye. Before Percy can even push back his chair she's scooped up his backpack and slung it over her shoulder as well.

"Chivalry goes both ways, Seaweed Brain," she says, smiling tightly at him, but he can tell that mostly she just wants to get out of there. So he bids goodbye to Jason and Henry and trails after her as she begins to walk fast down the hall.

He can barely keep up with her; she always beat him during races at Camp Half-Blood and she's definitely on a mission to put as much space between herself and . . . well, something, as she can. He's practically running to keep up with her strides; her calf muscles are flexing with her power walk and it would be really distracting if not for the fact that there are much more important things to focus on.

"Annabeth," he pants, catching up and tugging her to a stop outside Paul's classroom, "what's going on? I mean, I know what's going on, but what happened back there?"

"I just . . . that owl." Her teeth are clenched; she's still wearing both of their backpacks but at the moment it's probably better if he doesn't remind her. "I just started drawing it, and then I started thinking about parents and children and I just got so mad" –

"I get it." He does – there are moments when he feels that anger he felt against Akhlys inside him, as though it's poisoning him more thoroughly than her venom ever could, from the inside out. He knows Annabeth feels it, too, but her logic is cooler and more able to temper it than his, so it shows less often in her. But he often wonders what's really going on in her head. As well as he knows her, as much as he loves her, he still sometimes wonders about that. "I'm sorry."

"Ugh, how many times are we going to talk about the same things?" she groans. She slumps against the lockers outside of Paul's classroom and lets the backpacks slide down her arms and onto the floor. "It's like we go over the same conversations and the same memories and the same nightmares over and over again, but it doesn't ever get any better, and I just" –

"Want it to go away." Percy leans against the lockers next to her, suddenly exhausted. "Want it to be better. Me too."

Her eyes are closed, but she leans over and finds his shoulder without much difficulty and this time she's the one massaging his neck and upper back, and it feels so good that he feels a little sigh burst from him, as though there's been trapped air in his lungs for a while now and finally he can let it out.

"I just don't know how to deal with it, Percy," she admits, and he can tell that that's painful for her – for Annabeth, not knowing something is a mortal sin.

And because he knows even less than she does, all he can do is shrug sadly and say nothing.