chapter five: monochromatic

The first weekend back dissolves faster than Annabeth can comprehend it. Before she even realises it, it's Monday again. She hitches a lift to school with Piper's dad who's only just returned from filming his most recent movie: The Shallows. Annabeth is excited yet terrified for its premiere next year, which she's attending with Piper, Percy and Leo.

As Tristan makes a turn, he glances up into the rearview mirror and locks eyes with Annabeth. "So, how are you finding school?"

Annabeth fidgets with a loose button on her cardigan. "It's good," she replies. "Did Piper tell you we joined the photography club?"

"She did. She also showed me the photos she took," he laughs. He glances back at his daughter. "Didn't you, Pipes? They were very abstract. How did yours turn out?"

Annabeth smiles. "I'm not sure yet. Mr Lee's gonna help me develop the film tomorrow."

"Oh? Film, you say?" Switching on his indicator, he continues, "Back in the day, I modelled for a young photographer called Diane. She was very good. Her whole schtick was that she only ever shot with film. I'll show you some of her work, if you like."

"Yeah, I'd love that!"

"'Course, photography wasn't all Diane was good at," Tristan adds, a gleam in his eye. "She also—"

"Dad, shut up!" Piper screeches. "Literally no one wants to hear it."

Tristan smiles, pulling up to the curb beside Mileview's entrance. "Sorry, darling. Have a good day, girls."

As Annabeth sits down for her first lesson, her eyes wander over to Percy's seat. It's vacant—he probably hasn't arrived yet. However, his seat remains empty even after the lesson has started. Percy isn't usually late. A feeling of dread settles over Annabeth, but she tries not to dwell on it.

About half-way through the lesson, Percy walks through the classroom door. He's breathing fast. "Sorry I'm late," he manages. "Got held up."

The teacher stiffens, looking irritated. "Sit down. We'll talk after class."

A few people laugh, but by the time Percy takes a seat everyone's attention has moved on. Annabeth keeps looking at him, though. He pulls his hood up, sitting back in his chair gingerly. Concern ripples through Annabeth, and she resolves to get the story out of him later.

However, that doesn't turn out to be easy. When she tries to catch up with him at recess, he disappears. She searches everywhere—the playground, the corridors. She even asks his tutor. Giving up, she heads over to where Leo and Piper are sitting in the playground. "Hey, do you know where Percy is?"

Piper shrugs. "I saw him earlier, but he seemed kinda off. I thought you two were in the same class?"

"Yeah, but he left before I could talk to him." She sits down beside them, shaking off the nagging worry. "It's fine. I'm sure he'll meet us later."

Annabeth sees Percy again in lessons, but he seems blank and barely there. When the bell rings, he's the first out of class. Annabeth packs up her bag as fast as she can and runs after him. She snags his sleeve at the end of the corridor, forcing him to turn around. "What?" he snaps. As soon as he recognises her, though, his anger dissipates. "Oh. Annabeth."

"What's wrong with you today?" she asks, letting go of his sleeve once she's certain he isn't going to bolt. "You didn't meet any of us for lunch and you haven't said a word in class."

Percy withdraws, pulling the hems of his sleeves down over his knuckles. He glances left and right, like he's been cornered. "Nothing's wrong."

Annabeth frowns. "Percy—"

"Seriously," he argues. "I'm just tired. I'm heading to the machine shop now, so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" With that, he turns and leaves her standing there.

Annabeth can't stop wondering what she's done wrong.

For the rest of September, Percy's behaviour is as changeable as the seasons. Most of the time he's as friendly as ever, but there'll be weeks where he barely says a word to Annabeth. She tries not to take it personally, but that's difficult without having an explanation. She wishes he'd give her a reason for his constant absences, an explanation for his flakiness when it comes to making plans. It's hard not to resent him for all these things, but Helen reminds her that he's still the same person as ever. "He could be stressed or dealing with family problems," Helen suggests, kneading dough into submission at the kitchen table. "Ask him, maybe. Everyone needs support when their life gets hard."

Annabeth leans on her forearms, staring sideways at the wall. "I don't know how to ask him! He doesn't even seem to want me around."

"Does he know?" Helen asks.

"Know what?"

"That you want him around."

"Of course," Annabeth says, indignant. "He's my best friend!"

Helen laughs. "I know he is, sweetheart. But you could still try telling him that he's wanted, that he's needed. We all forget that sometimes." Annabeth heaves a sigh. Percy knows she cares about him, right? Not to mention Piper and Leo do, too. Still, maybe he could stand to be reminded.

On Thursday evening, Annabeth waits outside the machine shop. Percy's working a lot, lately. He's always telling her that he wants to get better at it, to be able to have a real job there when he's old enough. Annabeth kind of admires him for it but it still worries her.

At some point, Lucy notices her waiting outside. "Alright, love?" she asks warmly. Her dark, frizzy hair has been wrestled into a top-knot. "You waiting for Percy?"

Annabeth nods. "When does he finish?"

"In a few minutes. He's a hard worker, you know," she added, a fond look on her face. "Always stays late. Usually I'd be hesitant about hiring a kid, but I couldn't have turned him away. I know firsthand how much a little extra money can do."

Unanswered questions burn at the outskirts of Annabeth's head. "Why…" she starts, then trails off. She's not sure how to continue. She fiddles with her charm necklace, eyes on the front door where Percy will emerge.

"Well, that's a pretty necklace," Lucy tells her.

"Percy gave it to me," Annabeth says, a hesitant smile on her face.

Lucy grins. "'Course he did." She looks up, gesturing. "Oh, there's Percy. Nice talking to you, Annabeth." She gives Annabeth a wave and walks away.

Percy approaches her. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows and his hands are stained with black, sticky grease. "Hey. What are you doing here?" he asks.

Annabeth shrugs. "I was bored. Thought I'd come see you." She pauses, folding her arms. "That is allowed, right?"

Percy's brow furrows. "What? Obviously it is."

"Oh, well then. That's nice of you," Annabeth spits back, tone sarcastic and grating.

He looks irritated. "What's wrong with you today? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?"

Frustration rears its ugly head in Annabeth. "No. I just feel like you're barely talking to me recently."

"That's not true—"

"It is! We even go to the same middle school now and I still hardly ever see you."

Percy visibly shrinks. "Well, I'm busy. I work here a lot."

"Yeah, but not all the time! Why are you trying to push me away?"

"I'm not trying to push you away!"

"It kinda seems like you are."

Percy balls his hands into fists, clenching and unclenching them. He opens his mouth to shoot something back at her, but seems to withdraw it at the last moment. He closes his eyes and says quietly, "Please don't be mad at me."

That wasn't the reaction Annabeth was expecting. Drawing a deep breath, she slowly says, "Helen said I should get you to talk to me about stuff."

Confusion flickers across Percy's face. "Stuff?"

"You know, like…things that are troubling you."

Percy's face turns stony. "Nothing's wrong."

"But there must be something—"

"Well, there isn't," he interrupts. He steps back, gaze downcast. "I'll see you at school."

"Wait, Percy—" Annabeth reaches out, but he's already walking away.

The next day, Mr Lee shows Annabeth to the darkroom. "Think of these negatives like raw files from a camera," he's telling her as he opens the door. "There's loads of ways you can use them, but we want to enlarge them. That's where the darkroom comes in."

Annabeth steps into the room, wide-eyed. Dozens of prints hang in strings from the ceiling, lit up only by a faint red bulb. "This is so cool," she breathes.

Mr Lee grins, which looks a little creepy in the red-hued light. "I know, right? Let's get started." He walks her through all the steps with patience, and by the end of it dozens of Annabeth's own prints are hung up and drying. The images on them are hazy, only half-visible.

Annabeth picks up the developed prints at the end of the day. Not all of them are in focus, but a lot of them look great. They're all monochromatic; Mr Lee said the process for developing colour-film was harder. As she shuffles through them, she finds herself transfixed by an image where Percy's face is turned to the side—in profile. His eyes are closed, and spider-like shadows fall from his lashes. It's a good photograph.

Guilt prickles at her, but she pushes it away. None of this is her fault.

As September fades away like old ink, the weather starts getting colder. Every year, winter seizes Virginia in an iron-clad fist, but this year it's happened earlier than usual. In response to the weather, Helen takes Annabeth shopping for new clothes: gloves, ankle boots, a fluffy coat. Annabeth is naturally a cold-blooded person, so she appreciates the comfort.

Annabeth hasn't seen Percy outside of school in a while. Even in class, he seems like less of himself than he's ever been. One day, Annabeth notices a blossom of ugly purple on Percy's jaw. The bruise is mostly covered by his hoodie, but it's still there. Has he fallen off his bike again? Annabeth doesn't know, and she isn't sure if she can ask. Lately, Percy's indifference towards her has turned into blatant hostility.

She cries to Helen about it that night, sitting on the coach. An old sitcom is on TV. It's a flimsy distraction. "I feel like I've done something wrong," Annabeth complains. "I even tried talking to him about it, but it's like he doesn't even care about our friendship anymore." She buries her face in Helen's shoulder, willing the salt brimming at her eyes to abate.

"Oh, Annabeth. It's not your fault, love," Helen tells her, gently pushing a lock of Annabeth's hair away from her damp cheek. "I'm sure you two will sort it out."

"But I don't know how to," she mumbles. "What can I say to him? He's like a different person."

"Ask him to come round here," Helen suggests. "You could bake something. You two always liked doing that."

"Yeah, maybe." Annabeth tucks her knees up into her chest, pulling the blanket over herself. "But what if…" She trails off.

"What, darling?" Helen pushes.

She stares at the TV, letting the colours blur together into a fog of static. "Well, I miss him. What if he doesn't miss me?"

Helen smiles, tucking Annabeth into a hug. "Don't be silly. Of course Percy misses you back."

"But—"

"Annabeth," Helen interrupts firmly. "Stop thinking so hard."

The end of October is nearing, and Annabeth and Leo make plans for the harvest festival alone. It's always been an unspoken truth that they'd go as a group, but Piper can't come as she's visiting her mom and Percy hasn't been in school for the last week so they're unable to ask him. To take her mind off the weirdness, Annabeth and Leo resolve to have as much fun as they can.

"This is impossible," Leo moans. He's standing in front of the mirror in Annabeth's bedroom, trying to attach cardboard triangles to each of his fingers, which have been spray-painted silver to resemble metal. "Maybe I should just tape a bunch of actual scissors to my hands."

Annabeth picks up the duct tape. "That sounds perfectly safe."

"Right?"

She grins. "I'm sure Jeanne would be fine with it."

He arches a brow as Annabeth carefully winds the tape around his pointer-finger, securing a sharp piece of cardboard to it. "Jeanne doesn't have to know."

Annabeth finishes attaching the last piece of cardboard. "There you are. Shall I do your makeup now?"

"Go for it. I need to look piss-your-pants scary."

Annabeth picks up a brush and the eyeshadow palette she borrowed from Helen. "Sure, but Edward Scissorhands isn't scary." To keep with the Tim Burton theme, Annabeth's going as Emily from The Corpse Bride.

"You're joking, right?"

"Well, he never hurts anyone."

"Have you seen the movie?"

Annabeth rolls her eyes. "Fine—he never hurts anyone who doesn't deserve to be hurt. Close your eyes." Leo does so, and Annabeth starts gently applying dark eyeshadow to Leo's eyelid, blending it out. "Should I put some of this orange underneath your eyes? You know, 'cause he's always got that tired look about him."

"Okay. Not too much, though," Leo warns. "Then you can do the scar wax."

She nods. "Don't kill me if it looks bad."

"Are you kidding? Bad FX makeup is the best part of Halloween."

Annabeth laughs. "Not if you can barely tell what the scars are meant to be."

"Yeah, fair enough. Ask your stepmom, maybe. Didn't she used to be a makeup artist?"

"Helen!" Annabeth hollers.

A heartbeat later, Helen pokes her head around the door, looking faintly annoyed. "Try not to yell, sweetheart. What's wrong?"

"Can you help us with Leo's scar wax? We're trying to make him look like Edward Scissorhands."

Helen folds her arms. "Aren't you both a little young to have watched that movie?"

Annabeth frowns. "No. Jeanne let us rent it when I stayed at Leo's last weekend."

"Did she, now?" Helen smiles. "Alright. I can try my best, but the part-time job at Sephora I used to have in no way qualifies me to do special effects makeup, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Helen," Leo grins.

Helen sits down on the bed. "Sit here, darling. Annabeth, could you grab me some makeup wipes? I'm gonna try to fix the mess you've made of his eyes."

"Hey!" Annabeth protests. Grabbing the wipes off her shelf, she hands them to Helen. "I thought it looked good."

"Sure, sweetie." Carefully, Helen wipes off the eyeshadow and studies the photo of Edward Scissorhands they've printed out. "Don't blink, okay?" she tells Leo. With an expert hand, she begins to dust black pigment across his eyelid. She dips into the dark purple eyeshadow, too, and Annabeth is surprised at how well it adds to the effect. After a minute, she moves onto the other eye. "Would you like me to try and do the under-eye bags?" she asks. "I can't promise it'll look amazing."

"I don't mind," says Leo. Helen picks up a different brush and dips into a dark brown shade, building up the colour under Leo's eyes. She then blends it downwards with an ochre-like orange, exaggerating his under-eye bags. The whole effect is incredible, and she hasn't even started on the scars yet. Helen holds a mirror up to Leo's face. "Like it so far?"

He gapes. "Woah. I look awesome."

Helen smiles. "Alright. I'll start on the scar wax."

"Can you do my makeup after?" Annabeth asks.

"Sure, darling. I'll do your hair, too. Get changed into your dress while you're waiting."

By the time Helen is done, Annabeth's hair is temporarily dyed cobalt and the blue blush staining her cheeks makes her seem even more gaunt than Leo. With her torn, white "wedding" dress, she's unmistakably the Corpse Bride.

"We look sick," Leo comments as they admire their reflections in the mirror. "Hey, we should get Helen to take a photo on her phone."

At that, Annabeth whips her head around. "I've got an even better idea," she breathes.

Five minutes later, the analog camera Annabeth had been using for her photography is in Helen's hands. Her and Leo are standing in the driveway, shoulder-to-shoulder. "You two look like a right pair," she says with a laugh, raising the camera to her face. A moment later, though, she winces. "Try looking a little more solemn?" she suggests. "We want this to resemble a vintage photograph—as though you two are from some outdated horror movie."

"What does solemn mean?" Leo whispers to Annabeth.

"Sad," she whispers back. "We need to look dead in the eyes."

"Sure. I can do dead in the eyes."

Once they're done, Annabeth thanks Helen and stores the raw film in a folder. "I'll ask Mr Lee to help me develop them next week. If they turn out well, I might submit them for the school's photography competition."

Excitement flares on Leo's face. "That'd be so cool!"

When they make it to the harvest festival, it's totally dark outside. "Please stay safe," Helen begs. "I'll be back to collect you in a few hours. If anything goes wrong, remember to call me on that flip phone I lent you. I need to trust that you won't get murdered, alright?"

"We won't!" Annabeth promises. The two of them pile out of the car, elated. Helen drives off with a screech of wheels, and it isn't long before even her headlights disappear into the countryside.

"Well, then. Shall we go, darling?" Leo asks her in an exaggerated Southern accent, offering her his elbow. In the night, his dark eyeshadow and jagged wax-scars make him look horrifying.

Annabeth takes his arm. Mimicking the accent, she replies, "Well, I reckon I'd love to." Together, they head down to the festival.

a pretty slow-paced chapter today, but it's all build-up :) thanks for all the kind reviews—y'all give me so much serotonin lmao. would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! the next one will be up on wednesday as usual.