Thank you so much for everyone who reviewed (sparklehannah, OKIdon'tknowaName, Hippi bookworm x2, Sherlock's 2nd Blogger, Helix King of reality, and some fucking random guy), followed, and favorited this story! It means a lot to me :) Chapter edited June 2020. Sorry for any format errors with the update!

Chapter 3: Clarisse

Clarisse's favorite time of the year was summer. Being one of the few year-round campers, all of the year-rounders got sick of each other by February. In summer, she could enjoy the company of (read: pick on) a whole host of new campers, both the newbies and the returning ones. Her favorite, of course, was Percy Jackson, but they reached a new understanding after Clarisse's quest and so Clarisse sadly didn't pick on him as much anymore.

Summer was coming to an end and Clarisse was taking advantage of every camper to spar with before they left for home. She just finished winning (read: pummeling and humiliating) against Michael Yew and decided to stop by the showers before dinner. As she walked past the Apollo cabin, she heard a guy and a girl talking behind it. This wouldn't have ordinarily been such a big deal if Clarisse could place the male's voice, which she couldn't. She knew Annabeth was there, talking with the male. He had a strong New York accent, and Clarisse only knew a few girls at camp with a Boston accent. No New Yorkers. Clarisse prided herself on being able to recognize every camper by their voice alone (her many years year-round at camp helped), and this suspicious male sounded new, which didn't make sense. Due to the effective gossip grapevine at camp, it was guaranteed that the whole camp knew of a new demigod within five minutes of crossing the border, and Clarisse had heard nothing in the last ten minutes of walking towards the showers and passing several fellow campers. Clarisse heard Annabeth and the male arguing, but still could not place the male's (secretly, she was a Percabeth shipper and wondered idly if Annabeth had a new interest and the ship was sinking). Always the warrior and prepared for anything, Clarisse slowed her pace and adjusted her grip on Maimer, deciding to check on Annabeth (who she secretly thought of like a younger sister). She saw Annabeth facing her, leaning against the wall talking with someone whose back was to Clarisse. He wore an orange camp shirt and clearly wore a camp necklace, so he wasn't new.

"No, Percy! I am not going to write my father! He made it very clear that I still wasn't welcome there," Annabeth exclaimed.

"Annabeth, I'm not saying you should forgive him and try living there again, but just send him the occasional letter, it doesn't have to be long, just let him know you're alive—" the male said. Percy Jackson, Clarisse thought, shocked. Why does he sound like that?

"Let me think on it," Annabeth interrupted, her gray eyes steely. Clarisse knew as well as Percy that the argument was over when Annabeth got like that. Percy sighed in defeat, Why has neither of them noticed me standing here, yet?, and then said: "Alright, I'm gonna say hi to Blackjack. See you at dinner?"

Annabeth nodded. Clarisse was so caught up in her thoughts and the fact that Percy had been speaking in a perfect New York accent that couldn't be faked and yet she had never heard it in the two years she knew him and realized too late that she hadn't moved and Percy was going to crash into her right now and oh shit. Clarisse had known for years about Annabeth's daddy issues. They bonded over shared mortal parent problems years ago and ranted to each other when they needed to blow off steam every few months. But what was up with Percy?

Percy finally (finally) noticed Clarisse who was staring wide-eyed at him, still gripping Maimer, and his face paled. His mouth opened and closed a couple times (like a fish, Clarisse chuckled inwardly) before regathering his wits and saying, "Hey, Clarisse. What's up?" with no trace of an accent, just the voice Clarisse had been hearing for the past two years.

Annabeth watched the two like a tennis match, waiting for Clarisse's response to Percy's serve. Clarisse raised an accusing eyebrow, "Was that an accent I heard, Prissy?"

Percy started stuttering out lame explanations for Clarisse hearing him wrong while Clarisse narrowed her eyes, letting him know she doubted every word.

"Stop denying it. I know I heard one and I know you grew up in Manhattan. Why do you hide your accent at camp?"

Percy sighed in defeat (again, guess he just couldn't win against a girl today apparently).

"I didn't want to stick out more than I already did by adding in my accent," he finally said. "Annabeth and I made a deal that I wouldn't hide my accent around her last summer."

Annabeth shifted on her feet uneasily, clearly guilty that she had gotten Percy caught.

Clarisse just shrugged. "That's cool, Jackson. We all have our secrets. I still owe you one—without you I would still be rotting in Polyphemus' cave."

Percy looked relieved. "Thanks," he said, "I suppose we can call it even now if you don't tell anyone about my accent?"

"Sure thing," Clarisse agreed. "I just want to hear you say 'forget about it' and then we'll call it even. Twice."

"Are you serious? I can't believe you just asked me to say that!"

Clarisse smirked and adjusted her grip on Maimer.

"Come on, Percy. I don't think I've even heard you say it yet," Annabeth pleaded.

He rolled his eyes and huffed exasperatedly. "Fine. Fuhgeddaboudit."

Annabeth kept a straight face but her eye twitched, trying to keep in her mirth. Clarisse, however, had no qualms whatsoever about laughing. "I love it!" she roared. "I should start saying that too! Wait-wait-wait one more time, that was our deal," Clarisse said, recovering and brandishing her spear to make sure Percy followed through with it.

"Fuhgeddaboudit."

Clarisse laughed again and bent over double for a few seconds (Annabeth used her hand to cover her small smile), before straightening and addressing Percy.

"Okay-okay, in all seriousness, your accent is awesome. I don't know why you hide it. And my lips are sealed. You have nothing to worry about, Jackson. I just might ask you to say that word occasionally."

Percy allowed himself a chuckle. "Sounds good, Clarisse—and thank you," he said sincerely. "Wait, why are you being so nice to me today?"

"Call it being hit on the head one too many times and withdrawals from not being able to shove your head down a toilet," Clarisse retorted.

She then smiled, waved, and continued heading towards the showers. "See ya Miss Princess, Prissy!" she shouted over her shoulder. Huh, I guess the Percabeth ship is stronger than we all thought, Clarisse mused with a grin.

I think Clarisse actually has a lot of secrets that she just keeps hidden because if people knew, they wouldn't think she was so intimidating anymore. I had so much fun writing this chapter! Is Clarisse a little ooc? She seemed like it to me, so that's why I added that last line of Clarisse's to make her more tough again.

~SkatingWithDragons
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