chapter fourteen: for sanity
Freshman year of high school passes like a blur, fading like a half-developed photograph. Annabeth clings to her friends for sanity, trying to block out thoughts of her dad as best she can. One night, she realises suddenly and frantically that she can't remember his voice. She phones Percy to distract herself, trying not to feel too awful about waking him at three in the morning. Words bleary and slurred with sleep, he waves off her apologies.
Percy's never said it, but Annabeth knows he spent money on a burner phone from Target just so she could contact him whenever she needs someone to talk to. Even though the gesture seems like nothing, it means a lot.
When Annabeth mentions her lack of sleep to Helen, she books her a medical appointment. "I'm sure they'll have something to help," Helen reassures her, but there's a blank look in her eyes when she says it. Helen's had that look about her lot, recently. Annabeth doesn't know what to do about it except talk to her, hug her, ask to watch a movie together. She can't lose another parent. She won't.
The doctor starts Annabeth off on a small, daily dose of Zolpidem. "We'll monitor its effect on your insomnia for a few weeks. If we're not seeing results, we'll try moving you onto a higher dose. Sound okay?" She smiles at Annabeth through her silver, square glasses. "Right, I'll draw you up a prescription."
For the first few weeks, the medication barely does anything. The doctor's reluctant to try the higher doses, but it quickly becomes apparent that it'll be necessary. And that helps a bit, but the side effects are almost as bad as her insomnia. Almost.
Sometimes, she'll phone Percy before she goes to sleep. He always picks up. She'll talk to him while the sleeping meds kick in, let him tell her about everything from the cars he's been working on to the graphic novels he's been reading. "I've never understood why you like comics so much," she says, cutting in while he rambles about the series he's just finished.
"You're crazy. They're way better than reading normal books," he insists. "It's like…like watching a good movie with subtitles on."
She smiles. The muscles of her face feel sluggish—they always do after she takes her meds for the night. "I still like books more," she murmurs.
There's a shuffling sound on Percy's side of the line, and then the rustle of covers. "My back aches so much from laying on the creeper trolley," he complains. "I hate working at the machine shop."
"You don't, really."
He sighs. "You're probably right. But it's hell on your body."
"You could try some yoga," she says absently, reaching over to her bedside for the book she's been reading: 'The Bell Jar.' It's dark and painful being in Plath's head, but it's nice to read about someone who's hurting in different ways than she is. It tunes her own life into the background, bringing everything out of such sharp focus. "Hey, Percy?" she says suddenly as she reads.
"Yeah?" His voice is static over her phone's speaker.
"Did you do your English homework for tomorrow?"
"Yeah, surprisingly. I got it done on my lunch break."
She yawns. "Good. Just checking, 'cause sometimes you forget."
He laughs. "You mean every time."
"Well, I'm here to remind you." Annabeth stifles another yawn. Her consciousness has become sticky and fluid, a sign that she'll be totally knocked out in the next fifteen minutes or so. "I'm gonna try and sleep now," she tells Percy. "You should, too."
"I know. I've gotta wake up at five for work," he mutters. "Night, Annabeth."
"Goodnight," she answers, then clicks End Call. She closes her book, even though she's only made it a few paragraphs down the page. It's easy to turn off the light, to turn onto her left side and close her eyes. She sees her father's broken form as usual, but The Image is distorted and dims a little more with every passing second. Slowly, the Zolpidem overtakes her struggling consciousness.
"Annabeth!" someone yells from behind her. Annabeth closes her locker and turns around, tucking her Latin folder under an arm. Leo jogs up to her. He places a hand on Annabeth's shoulder, the other on the strap of his bag. There's a streak of ink on his face. "Can I ask you something?"
"What? It's nine in the fucking morning."
"Yeah, I know that." They start walking along the hallway, weaving a path through the bustling flood of students around them. "So. How many people do you think you could fit in your house?"
She stares at him, instantly catching his drift. "You've got to be joking. In what world would I be okay with hosting your birthday party?"
He gives her puppy eyes. "Please? I'll buy you a milkshake at the diner later."
Annabeth pretends to think about it. "One milkshake would definitely make up for all the broken furniture and vomit-y carpet."
"Don't be so sarcastic," he mutters. "Fine. I'll find somewhere else. You'll come, though, won't you?"
"Why would I wanna come to your birthday party?"
She ducks into her classroom, and he yells after her, "I said don't be so goddamn sarcastic!"
That week, Leo asks Annabeth a few more times about holding his birthday party at her manor. Eventually, her will crumbles and she resolves to ask Helen about it. When she asks, her stepmother only waves a hand and says, "Sure, darling. Not too many people, okay?" Helen never would've agreed to anything of the sort before, and it's unsettling to see her regard the idea of a party that could potentially get out of control with nothing but ambivalence.
Annabeth is almost tempted to say Actually, never mind, but stops herself and murmurs, "Thanks," instead.
Now that she's recognised how far-off and absorbed Helen can get, it's impossible to stop noticing it. She knows Bobby and Matthew also see it, but are too afraid to say anything. Annabeth has to hope that with time, the beautiful and kind person Helen once was will re-emerge from the shell of a body she's become.
Everyone in their year knows Leo, and most people like him. There's something about his humour and charm that can pull you in, though it's easy to miss the dark side to his jokes and sarcasm that often verges on gallows humour. Knowing Leo is not the same as knowing him, though—at least, in the way that Annabeth, Piper and Percy do. Still, he doesn't seem to mind it. In fact, he seems to enjoy holding attention and always entertaining, entertaining, entertaining. It's not that Leo isn't genuine—of course he is. It's just that his dark authenticity is hidden behind a bright, opalescent personality.
Leo's birthday soon rolls around. He and Annabeth spend the whole week planning; they spend hours compiling a playlist to be played over Bobby's sound system, enlist the help of Piper and Percy to spread the word, and pour blood, sweat and tears into moving around Annabeth's furniture to create space. They even string up outdoor lights throughout the expanse of Annabeth's garden. "No one's allowed in my room, though," she warns him. "And if my house gets trashed, I'm holding you responsible."
He grins. "Don't worry. I haven't invited anyone who'd do that—I think." Somehow, Annabeth isn't reassured.
On Saturday night, Annabeth tries to quell her anxiety about the entire affair by getting ready early. Of course, Leo arrives before the party starts. He sits, cross-legged, on her bed and goes over their playlist one last time. Annabeth's already changed into the dark blue, silky dress she found online. Now, she's working product into her uncooperative curls. She mutters, "Why does my hair have to be so goddamn frizzy?"
"It looks fine to me," he tells her. "Just leave it alone. Christ."
Frustrated, she runs a hand through it one final time before opening her drawer and taking out a few makeup products. She asked Helen to show her how to use them, but the only response she got was a nonchalant, "Maybe tomorrow, dear." Still, online tutorials existed. Annabeth made do. She leans closer to her mirror and brushes her faint, blonde brows into shape with some gel, then fills them out a little with a brow pencil.
Behind her, Leo looks up. "Hey, what's that?"
"Makeup. Duh."
He watches as she begins to conceal her under-eyes. "I've never seen anyone put it on before."
She glances back, a little surprised that he's even interested. "It's pretty easy. I've been practising."
"Oh." He goes back to their playlist. "Should I add some Amy Winehouse? Does anyone we know even listen to her?"
Attention fixed on blending in her concealer, she says distractedly, "Add Me and Mr. Jones."
"Yeah, alright." Silence hangs between them for a few moments as they each focus on their respective projects, but it's not long before Leo butts in again. "What about Bon Iver?"
"We said nothing depressing. Remember?"
"Fine," he mutters, thumbs tapping on the screen of his phone as he adds a few more songs to the playlist. Finished with her concealer, Annabeth opens the cheap eyeshadow palette she bought in town and dips her brush into a blue, metallic shade that matches her dress. "Piper just texted. She and Percy will be here in a minute."
"Alright," she answers. In the reflection of the mirror, Leo puts his phone down. His curiosity flickers back to Annabeth's face as she starts applying blue pigment to her eyelids like they do in the tutorials. She spins around, hands on her hips. "Okay, what?"
"Nothing."
"Seriously! Do I look weird with makeup on? Should I take it off?"
Waving his hands, he quickly protests, "No, no. It's just…" He swallows. "Can you..."
"Can I what?"
He braces himself, and the following words all come out in a rush. "Can you do my eyeshadow like that?"
And hell, Annabeth hadn't been expecting that. She grins, already excited. "Okay. Sure."
It doesn't take long. Leo sits entirely still from start to finish, the perfect subject. And he never sits still—it's weird. Carefully, she dusts a gold shimmer over his lids. It's simple enough that the gold is only noticeable when it catches the light. "Wow, this shade really suits your skin tone," she muses.
Leo's barely said anything the whole time, which is also uncharacteristic of him. He turns his face left and then right, eyes glued to his likeness in the mirror. "Huh," he breathes.
"So, what do you think?" she asks, furtive. His expression is vacant, unreadable.
"I don't know," he says quietly. "I think I like it." He looks at her, then. "Is that bad?"
She hates the uncertainty in his voice, hates that he thinks he's not allowed to like it. "Of course it's not bad! Fucking hell. You look amazing." Unable to stop herself, she throws her arms around him.
He hugs her back, albeit tentatively. "Okay. Okay," he says, as though he's convincing himself. Then he smiles, and the universe falls back into place. "Thanks, Annabeth."
The party quickly reaches full swing. Annabeth gets a lot of compliments on her estate, comments which, for the first time, make her feel empty. She hasn't done anything to deserve it. It's already dark when most of the guests arrive, and the outdoor bulbs hanging like fireflies in her garden illuminate the space in a strange, ethereal way. The playlist she and Leo spent so long creating works wonders—everyone's mood is easily lifted. The partygoers become one singular entity, dancing and laughing together.
Percy stays at Annabeth's side, looking almost overwhelmed by everything. "There's so many people here," he says to her. "I didn't realise Leo even knew this many people."
"I know. It's crazy," Annabeth agrees, refilling her glass of punch from the table they've got set up outside. There's a scarlet bruise below Percy's jaw that he won't stop touching. Before she can think better of it, she reaches up and tugs his hand away. "Hey, stop that. You're gonna irritate it."
His gaze snaps back to her, like he hadn't even realised what he'd been doing. "Sorry. I just—"
"Fell off your skateboard?" When he's hurt, that's what he always tells her. Annabeth's starting to think he gets into fights or something, and just doesn't want to tell her.
He looks blank for an almost imperceptible second before shaking his head. "Nah. Got hit by a soccer ball in PE."
"Oh." Annabeth wants to press but decides against it. "Wanna go inside where the music's louder?"
"Yeah. It's cold out here, anyway." The two of them head up the path. On the front door, a sign hangs on the front door that reads NO THROWING UP INSIDE in scrawled Sharpie lettering. Annabeth squeezes her eyes shut when she walks up the steps like she always does, reminding herself to breathe. Her dad's not here tonight; she knows he's not. But in her head, it still feels like a lie.
Her house has been taken over by a writhing, chaotic mass of bodies. Most people are dancing, while some relax on the couches, chatting. Someone grabs Annabeth's sleeve and yells, "Nice house!"
"Thanks," she answers on instinct, barely even registering who spoke. She and Percy cut a path towards the kitchen, where strips of LED lights flash in colourful, pulsing ultraviolet. Inside, people are screaming the lyrics to the song that's playing, and the tiles beneath their feet are sticky with spilled beer. To Annabeth's disappointment—but not to her surprise—Leo's bouncing up and down on her kitchen island with a few people from their school. His clothes are dishevelled, but his eyeshadow's still completely intact. He looks happy, drunk and utterly distracted.
"Leo!" Percy shouts, trying to be heard over the din. Leo doesn't notice them at first, but he jerks around when Percy yells his name again.
He bursts into a sloppy grin when he sees them, stumbling down from the table without much grace. "This is so cool, right?"
Annabeth smiles, easily infected by his enthusiasm. "Yeah. It's better than I could've imagined."
He points at her. "You look like you need something to drink."
She exchanges a glance with Percy, holding back a laugh. "Well, I've already had punch."
"Ha, ha. Very funny," Leo tells her. "We've mixed up some vodka and lemon, so you can have some of that. I think Kirsten's got it." He turns around, yelling, "Kirsten!"
Annabeth's reluctant to drink, as she needs to make sure the party doesn't get too out of control. Still, Percy convinces her that it's fine. "Don't worry. I'm staying sober anyway 'cause I've got work tomorrow. You can let your hair down if you want." Annabeth will never understand how he always manages to reassure her whenever she's uncertain—every single time.
After Annabeth's had a couple glasses of vodka mix, she allows herself to let loose a little. She dances with Percy, moving in tandem with the frenzied crowd as the universe melts away around them. He twirls her around jokingly, and she devolves into helpless laughter. Deliriously, she decides that this is the happiest she's felt in a long time.
Eventually, they tire of dancing and stand at the side to talk. "I think I've got motion sickness," Percy groans, clutching his stomach.
"Same," she agrees, leaning against the wall for stability. Her vision's rose-tinted and beautifully blurred. "Dunno why I let Leo convince me to have a drink. Vodka does not agree with me."
Percy snorts. "Seems like it agrees with you plenty well."
She swats him. "Shut up." Still, she can't fight off a smile. Suddenly, Percy's attention has snagged on something across the room. "What?" she asks, following his gaze. Piper and Jason are standing together, laughing. Her brown cheeks are flushed, and she's talking animatedly. "I knew it," Annabeth says, nudging Percy. "She goes on about him all the time. Plus, there's no way you can write songs together and not fall at least a little bit in love."
Percy shakes his head with a grin. "They're literally just talking—stop making assumptions." But as he says it, Jason leans in and whispers something into Piper's ear, making her squeal and shove him away. Annabeth bursts out laughing. Percy sighs. "Fine, maybe I was wrong," he admits.
As everyone progressively gets drunker, her house stinks increasingly of alcohol and dozens more cups are littered across the floor. At one point, Annabeth glances out into the garden to see two guys standing in the shadows. One of them is Leo, waving a can of cider around as he talks. She watches as the guy he's standing with leans forward, hand slipping into Leo's curly hair. When Leo kisses him, Annabeth quickly tears her gaze away. Even drunk, she knows when something isn't meant for anyone else to see.
Eventually, the night bleeds away into whatever it was meant to be before the party became alive; exhaustion and long-broken curfews overcome the desire to stay out into the morning hours. The last of the guests trickle out, leaving the five of them collapsed together on a couch. "Can we all stay here tonight, Annie?" Piper asks. "I can't be bothered to walk home."
Head in Piper's lap, Jason blearily says, "Seconded."
"Yeah, that's fine," Annabeth answers. "Helen won't give a shit. I'll lay some sleeping mats out in my room."
Leo glances over from where he's lying on the floor. "Works for me. I just wanna pass out," he slurs.
Percy's leaning tiredly on Annabeth's shoulder. His hair tickles her cheek, soft yet rife with split ends. Somehow, his warmth is even more intoxicating than the vodka in her system. Annabeth both can't stand it and never wants him to move. "So, you're the first one of us to turn fifteen," he says to Leo. "How's it feel?"
Leo throws an arm over his face. "Enlightening," he mutters. The others laugh, but Annabeth is silent. She's the only one with an inkling regarding what he might mean.
"I'm glad," Annabeth offers. Her words ring quiet.
thanks for reading! the party scene was super fun to write. next chapter will be up on sunday as usual, and I'm so excited for you guys to read it! let me know what you thought :D