chapter twenty: the cost of hope
It's a little daunting taking a new medication that she knows nothing about, but the panic attacks are bad enough that Annabeth will accept any quick fix she can find. The first dose of Xanax she takes is a small one, but it relaxes her body and dilutes her mind in a new and beautiful way. It even blurs The Image, which is a mercy Annabeth hasn't been expecting but is grateful for. The anxiety doesn't go away completely, though. Some days she can't even bring herself to go into school, so she calls in sick and spends the day at home. Times like that are few and far between; her anxiety medication is a godsend. Still, it doesn't quite feel like enough.
Percy seems to notice an improvement, but he's still concerned. "You're different," he tells her one quiet evening. They're working through the Latin homework together, shoulder-to-shoulder on Annabeth's bed. Percy puts his pen down, distracted by whatever he sees on her face. "You're all…smoothed over."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Annabeth responds, crossing out a line of translation and writing the correct version below it.
"I'll let you know when I figure that out," he responds, gaze falling back down to his translations. "It is helping, though? You're feeling better?"
Annabeth looks up, trying for a half-smile. She fights off the urge to lie—Percy's capable of seeing right through her every time. She only wishes she had the same skill when it came to him. "I'm not sure," she says. "I'm not having attacks anymore, which is good. Amazing, even. But everything else still affects me: the nightmares, this anxiety that I can't fucking shake."
Percy's looking at her in that godawful, worried way of his. "You never look rested," he admits. "It scares me."
Annabeth will never say it, but it scares her, too. She doesn't recognise the face in the mirror anymore, with the deep under-eye bags and downturned mouth. She can't even remember what she used to look like, anymore. Sick of talking about herself, she changes the subject. "You can talk—haven't you worked late every night this week?"
Percy picks up his pen again, writing another line of translation in that chicken-scratch handwriting of his. "Yeah, well," he mutters. "Late nights are good for my savings account."
They're not good for you, though, she stops herself from saying. Instead, she leans into his shoulder, into his steady warmth and asks, "Have you done question twelve?"
October wears on, and Annabeth struggles to keep herself tethered to sanity by a few fraying threads. After a bad panic attack one morning, her psychologist temporarily increases her dosage to make up for what he believes might be a growing tolerance to the drug. The medication gives Annabeth the energising illusion of control; each dose is a moment to live in, more real than the air she breathes. Sometimes, probably inadvisably, she'll take twice her prescribed dose. It's the only thing that helps if she hasn't slept at all and her thoughts are running themselves ragged. It's definitely not a problem, though; in fact, it's a solution.
One thing, though—she hasn't taken a single photograph in months. Gone with her sober state of her mind is her natural creativity, and it kind of hurts. Photography is something she's always taken for granted, something she thought she'd always have on her side. Still, it's an easy sacrifice, just another loss to be cut when faced with feeling healed or feeling broken.
As Halloween dawns near, the excitement of the others becomes tangible. It's their favourite holiday, and Annabeth understands the sentiment. "Come on. You get to drink, you get to dance around like a crazy person—and the scary vibes are fucking immaculate," Leo tells her. They're sitting with Jason at their usual lunch table by the canteen window, waiting for the others to get their lunch.
Annabeth crunches into her apple, thoughtful. "Yeah, but it's just going to be like any other night out. We're too old to dress up. Isn't that gonna take some of the fun out of it?"
Jason raises a brow. "Speak for yourself. I'm dressing up."
"Yeah, it's sophomore tradition," Leo says. "Everyone's going to the harvest festival in their costumes—and then get wasted in a field."
Annabeth laughs. "Sounds like fun. What are you guys going as, then?"
"Captain Jack Sparrow," Jason says casually, as though that isn't the funniest thing Annabeth's heard all day.
She snorts out a laugh. "I don't even wanna try and picture that."
"Well, I'm thinking about going as Prince," Leo muses. "I've already got the hair, right? Find a purple jacket, maybe a guitar, and I'll be sorted."
Annabeth stares glumly at her half-eaten apple. "I dunno if I can be bothered to dress up."
"Hey, you guys talking 'bout the harvest festival?" Piper asks as she slides into the seat next to Annabeth, setting her pasta pot down on the table. "Do you think I should go as Catwoman? She's kinda hot." Cocking her head, she adds, "I reckon I could pull off leather pants."
"You think Jason'll survive that?" Annabeth whispers to Leo in a low voice, then laughs when Jason lands a hard kick on her ankle under the table.
"Shut up," he complains, then directs a smile at Piper. "Catwoman's a great idea."
When school ends, Annabeth gathers her books from her locker and yawns, mind sluggish after six hours of school. As she closes her locker and turns to walk down the crammed, noisy corridor towards the exit, Percy falls into step beside her. "Hey," he says, nudging her. "How was Math?"
"Don't ask," she mutters. He seems upbeat, which is weird for him. "You look happy," she observes.
"Yeah, my English essay got marked."
"So? What'd you get?"
He smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh—a B," he says, as though he can't quite believe it.
Annabeth stops in her tracks. "You're kidding," she says, bursting into a grin. "Percy, that's amazing!" As they step outside, they're instantly greeted by a rush of cool, autumnal air. The stone tiles of Mileview's courtyard are littered with fallen leaves in hues of mottled green and carmine.
"It's better than I thought I had any hope of getting," he admits. "It's all thanks to you, though. I wouldn't even know how to string two paragraphs if you didn't help me out so much."
"Stop being modest! You're good at English, and you know it." They walk past the school's bike rack, but Percy doesn't head over to grab his bike like he usually does. "You're not cycling today?"
He shakes his head. "Nah. The back tyre on my bike needs pumping and I didn't have time to do it this morning."
"What?" she asks, incredulous. "How did you get to your morning shift?"
"I walked—I had to wake up pretty early," he says. "Don't worry, though. I'll fix it later tonight, so it'll be good for tomorrow."
Annabeth nods, but she doesn't feel content. "I'll walk with you to your afternoon shift, then," she decides. "You're headed there now, right?"
His brows knot together, bunched-up and dark. "You don't need to," he tells her. "It's a pretty long walk."
"Exactly. I'll come, so you won't have to walk alone." That clearly isn't enough to convince him, so she adds, "I was gonna get a coffee from town—I might as well go to that place near the machine shop and keep you company while you work. Anyway, it's not like I've got anything better to do," she laughs as they walk past the bulletin board by the school gates.
Percy's attention is diverted by one of the posters tacked on the board. He stops to read it, chewing slowly on his lip. "Hey, this says they're looking for a few extra hands to help with the harvest festival," he says. "Twelve dollars an hour—that's good pay."
"Percy, you already work two jobs," Annabeth reminds him.
He rolls his eyes. "The job's only for the next few days, to help set everything up." He nudges her. "Wanna do it with me? It could be fun."
At his words, Annabeth is whisked back in time to fading, years-old memories of helping out at the festival with Piper and Leo when they were kids. Nostalgia tears through her, and she finds herself nodding. She smiles at Percy, grabbing the pen that's hanging from a string by the poster. "Sure, let's do it." She scrawls both their names and cell phone numbers on the sign-up form.
"I can't wait," Percy smiles. Cheeks already flushed from the cold, the two of them set off for the machine shop.
In the evenings over the next few days, Annabeth and Percy work hard on setting up the stalls in the fields. It's actually quite nice. They get to work side-by-side, and the labour doesn't seem like much when they get to talk and play music from Annabeth's speaker. Annabeth's never had a job before, which shouldn't be embarrassing—she's only fifteen, after all—but working with Percy feels weird knowing that, for years, he's had to work for a living. Due to the large trust fund left to Annabeth and her stepbrothers after their dad's death, there's technically no reason for her to be here. But to Percy, the twelve dollars they respectively earn after each hour of work probably mean the world.
They're lifting hay bales onto the back of a tractor, ready to be transported across the fields; they'll be used as seating in the festival. Percy lifts his side of the bale and grits out, "One, two, three." With a grunt, they heave the bale up onto the tractor's carrier. Percy grins at her as he wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, clearly enjoying the physicality of the work. "You alright?" he asks. "You look pretty zoned out."
Annabeth looks up, letting out a startled laugh as she's jerked back to reality. "Yeah, I'm good," she answers, a little breathless from the exercise. She was thinking about her dad, putting together the pieces about how Frederick accumulated so much money. When she was a kid, she barely gave how well-off they were a second thought. Now, though, with the knowledge that her dad was wrapped up in crime…Annabeth's revulsed to consider how much of it could be blood money.
"We've still got a few more of these to lift," Percy says, gaze skimming over the pile of bales they had left. "Wanna take a quick break?"
"Sure," Annabeth says, a little relieved. They sit down on the bales together, legs swinging as they look out over Virginia's countryside. The sun has only just dipped below the horizon, its crimson light reflected by the sparse, pale clouds. It's beautiful, but Annabeth feels herself shiver as a breeze ripples over the prairie. Though she's wearing a jacket, it's easy to get cold once you've stopped moving around. She lets out a sigh, leaning against Percy's warm shoulder. "Aren't you cold?" she asks, gesturing to his bare arms.
He grins. "Nah, I'm warm-blooded. Unlike you, you reptile."
"Hey!" she protests, swatting him. He's right, though. As Virginia nears its winter season, the skin of her knuckles is cracking more and more—like drying clay. Almost subconsciously, she rubs at her hands, trying to coax the circulation back into them.
Percy looks over, concern in his eyes. "I think I've got some gloves," he says, then reaches over to where his jacket's been tossed over the side of a hay bale. After digging around in the inside pocket, he emerges victorious with a pair of black gloves and offers them to her. "They're kinda frayed, but…" He trails off.
"Thanks," she smiles, slipping them on. The fabric's blessedly warm around her stiff, cold fingers. "We should probably get back to it."
Percy's attention was lingering on her gloved hands, but he looks up in surprise at her words. "Uh. Yeah, we should." Together, they haul the rest of the bales up onto the back of the tractor. When they're done, Percy ducks into the tractor and hops into the driver's seat. It doesn't have doors, which was a little nerve-racking when they drove up here. "You coming?"
"I still can't believe they're letting you drive this thing," Annabeth mutters, clicking on the seatbelt.
"Hey, I'm qualified," he protests.
She scoffs. "You fix cars—you don't drive them. Besides, this is a tractor."
"Come on, Annabeth," he says with a wicked grin, turning the keys in the ignition. Below them, the engine rumbles to life. "Live a little." He steps on the accelerator, and they surge forward.
"Oh, God," Annabeth shrieks as the tractor races down the incline towards the neighbouring field. Percy puts on more speed, whooping. His excitement's somehow infectious. Annabeth finds herself bursting into laughter, even though she's clinging on tight. As they enter the next field, they hit a muddy patch and swerve slightly. Percy manages to regain control and park the tractor where it needs to be, narrowly avoiding ploughing into a tree. "You're crazy," Annabeth gasps, undoing her seatbelt and stumbling out, heart pounding.
Percy losing it, laughing hard as he jumps out after her. "Oh, stop it. You had fun."
"Life-threatening fun."
He rolls his eyes. Before she can react, he approaches from behind and grabs her around the waist. Her yells are interwoven with laughter as he lifts her off the ground, which does absolutely nothing to slow her soaring pulse. She kicks her legs frantically, but is laughing by the time he returns her to her feet. "Again, this is why you're fucking crazy," she grumbles, fighting off a smile.
He raises a brow, the corner of his mouth curving upwards. "Never said I wasn't," he says. "And if I am, then you definitely are."
At last, Halloween arrives. It's on a Saturday. The five of them spend the afternoon together, getting into their costumes. Piper and Leo are already a little tipsy, having had pre-drinks at Piper's house before heading to Annabeth's. Annabeth's leaning into the mirror in her room, occasionally glancing at the YouTube tutorial playing on her phone as she blends dark paint into the hollows of her cheekbones and around her eye sockets, a jagged contrast against the deathly white paint that bleaches the colour from her complexion. "That's so sick," Percy breathes. Annabeth grins, finishing the look with some glitter on her waterlines. The skeletal teeth painted around her mouth contort, wonderfully grotesque. Annabeth has to appreciate the virtues of SFX makeup; they're gonna get some awesome photos after this.
They're both going as skeletons—she did Percy's makeup, too. He looks positively terrifying; his naturally sharp cheekbones and jaw only add to the effect. While he's wearing an all-black suit they found in Helen's closet, she's wearing a black cowl-neck dress with fishnet tights. Honestly, the two of them look pretty cool together.
They head downstairs to find Leo, Jason and Piper dancing like mad people in the kitchen. It looks like Leo and Piper have managed to get Jason tipsy, if the almost-empty whiskey glass in his hand and the dopey expression on his face is anything to go by. Piper's the first to notice Annabeth and Percy enter the kitchen. Her jaw drops. "Fucking hell. You two look horror movie twins—the good-looking kind," she assures them.
Percy whispers under his breath, "Is there a good-looking kind?" At that, Annabeth stifles a laugh.
Piper's wearing black leather pants, a matching corset and a mask that extends into pointed, feline ears. She's Catwoman, through and through. As a matched pair, Jason's dressed as Superman; clearly, Piper convinced him not to try and pull off Jack Sparrow. Leo, on the other hand, is finely dressed as Prince. A cardboard guitar hangs from a strap over his shoulder, and the rhinestones on his purple jacket glint in the light. He and Jason are singing along to the song that's blasting from the radio, hanging off Piper's shoulders.
For a while, the five of them drink and dance together. At some point, though, Jason notices the clock that hangs on the wall above the door and grimaces. "It's already nine. We should head down to the festival."
Thalia drives them after a call from Jason, though she looks irritated. "Come on. I'm missing movie night with Reyna to drive you pricks." In chorus, they thank her as they get out of the car and head towards the festival.
Though it's a relatively warm night for late October, goosebumps still prickle Annabeth's arms. She's the only one who's not drinking; mixing anxiety meds and alcohol is never a good idea. It's fine, though. The Xanax has relaxed her even more than usual; she took a double dose earlier in the evening. She knows she shouldn't, but the warnings from Dr Hale aren't enough to dissuade her when there's so much to enjoy about the way it feels. And anyway, the others are far more intoxicated than her—so why should she care?
They dance in front of the stage for what feels like hours, then talk by the raging bonfire for longer than that. Percy's beautiful when he's drunk, she thinks: all loose smiles and sloppy laughter. The usually unwavering tension that lines his shoulders and the set of his jaw has utterly melted away. As he shouts with abandon at the top of his lungs and leans against Leo as drink sloshes out of their red cups, Annabeth can't stop herself from looking at him. In the firelight, the effect of the skull makeup on his face is enhanced—the planes of his face are jagged shadows, and his green eyes harbour an unending kind of depth.
She thinks she'll miss the way he looks tonight.
At one point, Leo slips off with a boy. "I'll be back, guys," he calls over his shoulder. The guy he's with is a little taller than him, and has black hair that casts shadows over his eyes. When he lifts a hand to wave at them, the silver ring on his hand stands stark in the crimson light.
Percy touches Annabeth's shoulder from behind. As she turns around, the song changes to a slower one. Above them, the clouds part to reveal a burgeoning half-moon. "Wanna dance?" Percy asks, his words slurred from all the drink. Annabeth takes his outstretched hand with a laugh, allowing him to spin her. Around her legs, her white, almost-reflective dress ripples like a whispering breeze. "How are you feeling?" he asks her.
She smiles, endeared. "It's Halloween—I'm feeling great. Why do you ask?"
"I dunno," he answers. With his Southern accent, the I distorts into an Ah sound. "You looked sad, for a moment there." He shakes his head. "Might've been my imagination."
She doesn't answer. To the left of them, someone throws a few more large logs onto the bonfire. It arcs up in flaming tendrils, even more blazingly hot than before. She slows down the dance, suddenly achingly tired. She wishes she was drunk like him, like Piper and Jason who've started kissing on a hay bale a few metres away. Maybe then, everything would be simpler.
The music picks up. With a grin, Percy spins her again, but at this point he's so uncoordinated that he ends up stumbling over her feet. "Whoa!" Annabeth cries, and the two of them fall to the mossy ground in a haze of laughter.
"Sorry," Percy groans, rolling off her. "I'm a mess, aren't I?"
She turns her head. "No, you're not." Stupidly, she has to fight off a giggle.
His eyes widen. "You're laughing at me."
"I'm not!" she protests.
"You so are." Noticing the playful look in his eyes, Annabeth senses impending danger. She shrieks, trying to get to her feet. But before she can, Percy's grip locks around her wrist and he's dragging her down again.
"Hey!" she complains. Percy lets go of her, gaze trained on her face. He's gone a little slack jawed. Annabeth feels delirious with happiness. Dimly, she wonders if there'll be a cost for this newfound hope. It seems too good to be true: a glimmer of happiness in the shit-show her life has become. Suddenly, she registers that Percy's still watching her. "What?" she laughs.
Almost inaudibly, he swallows. "Nothing."
"God, you're so drunk."
"Whose fault is that?" he asks. "You're the one who gave me the fucking vodka."
"You didn't have to drink it," she accuses as they help each other to their feet. Piper and Jason call their names from where they're sitting, beckoning them.
He shoots her a look as they head over. "I did. Like you said, it's Halloween."
At one point, Annabeth leaves the others on a hay bale. They're still drinking—she's pretty sure Piper's thrown up a couple of times. Somehow, she's always rejuvenated after. "Well," Piper will always say as she refills her cup, "The night must go on!"
Annabeth wanders over to the tent where they're selling virgin cocktails, staring at her reflection in her compact mirror as she tries to fix her messy curls. Her SFX makeup is still mostly impact. As she closes her mirror, she sighs and joins the mojito queue.
While she's waiting in line, a hand closes suddenly around her shoulder. She turns, startled, to see the guy in the queue behind her. He's blond, and a scar's been gouged all the way down from one of his brows to his cheek. Annabeth double-takes; at first she thinks the scar's just Halloween makeup, but a second look convinces her that it must be real. "You make a cool skeleton," the guys says, giving her a smile. "That makeup's sick. Did you do it?"
"Yeah, I did," she says slowly. "Sorry, who are you?" With a shock, she realises the guy's pupils are blown so wide that she can't even tell what colour his eyes are. He's clearly under the influence of something—an observation that becomes even more plain when she notices the latent tremor in his hands and shoulders.
"I'm Luke," he answers. "And you?'
"Annabeth."
"You getting a mocktail?"
She folds her arms. "Why else would I be waiting in line?"
"So, you're not drinking." It isn't a question, but she shakes her head by way of answer anyway. "How come?"
"I can't right now." She doesn't elaborate. "From the looks of it, I'm guessing you're not either."
He grins sharply. Paired with his enlarged pupils, the effect is animal-like. "Nah. There's better ways to distract myself."
Annabeth nods slowly. "Right."
She turns around, realising she's reached the front of the queue. "Wait," Luke says. He starts to say something else, before evidently stopping himself. He settles on, "I'll see you around, yeah?"
Silently, she nods. Once she's bought her mocktail, Luke's disappeared. Feeling uneasy, she heads back to the others. "Hey," Percy greets her. "Where'd you go?"
By way of answer, she shows him her drink. "Oh, right," he says. "Y'know, you missed Piper and Jason doing the tango."
"To what song?"
"Young Americans," he informs her, draping an arm over her shoulder. He's warm and soft around the edges—like burnt-away paper.
Annabeth laughs, allowing herself to lean against him. "You should've told them to watch the vodka."
He grins lazily, slipping his arm through hers. "If I did, I'd be a damn hypocrite."
"Yeah, you would," she says, poking him. Under the quiet light of the moon, they forget their inhibitions and return to the dancing.
thanks for reading, let me know what you thought! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you guys liked it. as usual, the next chapter will be up on sunday.
if you want, you can drop me an ask about this fic on my tumblr, stolen-art :D