Annabeth Pov
If I have to sing this song one more time, I'm going to scream, I thought, clenching my teeth against the barbs I longed to unleash on my producer. I'd been in the studio for hours, recording the songs I'd penned the night Percy left, expunging my grief in the best way I knew how. I'd poured it all out on the page, stripped back the veneer I wore around my heart and bared its tender, aching loss. And I'd cried, sobbed until I could scarcely see the words through my tears, until the salty droplets pockmarked the pages. After the ink and the tears had tried, the hollow ache of loss reduced to a dull thrum, I'd contemplated tearing the pages to shreds. The songs were deeply personal, too personal, more so than anything else I'd written and performed. My career had been built upon bubbly, pop songs, not heart-splintering love ballads. Yet, I couldn't bear to get rid of them, and now here I was: rerecording the same song repeatedly and suffering through my producer's dwindling patience.
"Annabeth," my cousin-turned-producer Magnus sighed, kneading the bridge of his nose, his lips pinched in frustration. "In all the years you've recorded, we've never had any issues getting the sound we want. Every time you're so spot on, it's almost too easy for you. I don't know what's gotten into you, but it's obvious your heart's not in it."
I could tell he was at the end of his rope, his body tense as a bowstring as though preparing to storm from the room at any moment. His brows were deeply furrowed, and he clenched and unclenched his fists in barely-restrained aggravation. But his voice came out soft and not unkind as he asked, "what's going on with you?"
"Nothing," I said, keeping my voice flat and devoid of emotion. "I'm fine."
One of his brows lifted at that, and from the grim set of his mouth, it was clear he was unconvinced. "Come on, Annabeth. I know you better than that. Something's up, and clearly it's bothering you enough to throw off your singing. Your pitch is off, and it just seems like you'd rather be somewhere, anywhere, else." His eyes swam with concern, and his voice took on an almost beseeching timbre as he said, "Please tell me what's wrong."
The desire to tell Magnus, to spill my guts to him about Percy—even his name brought tears to my eyes—was undeniable. I could practically feel the words at the tip of my tongue, thrashing to get out and divulge to Magnus just how acutely I felt Percy's absence. And the strange maelstrom of confused feelings that circulated at the thought of him. But the words wouldn't come; my throat tightened painfully against the tears I fought back, and the words sat lodged there.
Despite my best efforts, the mask I wore slipped, and before I could help it, my mouth pulled down at the corners, and a tear slipped down my cheek.
A knowing look came over Magnus' face, and his voice gentled, soft as velvet and quiet as a whisper, when he said, "Is it Percy?"
Outwardly, my face was blank, schooled to hide the turmoil I felt inside, but then that painful clench in my chest reared its head, and I couldn't pretend anymore.
A sob tore from my throat, and I just nodded, the tears increasing tenfold. Magnus strode over then, arms outstretched, and I huddled into the warm embrace. Tears darkened the fabric of his shirt, and despite the sorrow that cracked me in two, I had enough awareness to draw away to avoid getting snot on it as well. Magnus didn't let me get far though, for as soon as I'd wiped under my nose, his arms tightened around me even harder than before, as though he could hold me together while I was falling apart.
He held me until the sobs ceased, the tears dried, and only a slight tremble still shook my frame. I pulled back, grateful for the comfort yet growing embarrassed by the display; I hated how vulnerable I felt, standing before Magnus having dismantled all the walls I'd built, the emotions I'd stifled. Though I knew he'd never judge or belittle my feelings, burdening him with my own problems was the last thing I'd wanted; I liked to keep my cards close to my chest and my emotions even closer.
I wiped the remaining moisture from my eyes, gathering my composure.
"I really miss him."
"I know. He'll be back though. He called and told you he'd only be gone a couple days, didn't he?"
"Yeah, but he said three days. Three days, Magnus! It's been weeks, and I haven't heard from him." I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, to calm the racing of my heart, but it came out shaky—almost as tremulous as when I whispered, "I'm scared he's not coming back. That he forgot all about California." I paused, psyching myself up to say what truly terrified me. "That he forgot all about me."
Magnus scoffed, vehemently shaking his head, the golden strands of his hair falling into his eyes as he did so. "That's ridiculous. I mean I've never met the guy, so I could be way off base here, but from what you've told me, that doesn't seem like him. He's probably just trying to get to know his siblings a bit more; after all, he's been an only child for years. It's probably strange and exciting for him to have siblings for once."
"Then why hasn't he called? At least to just tell us what's going on. I know we weren't close before he left, but we were getting there, slowly. And he called his first night there, just to let us know he made it safely and that he had no intentions of staying long and that he'd be home soon." I shook my head, the worst-case scenarios bombarding my brain and playing on a loop. Maybe he reconciled with his father so well, he planned to live permanently with him. Maybe he never really liked staying with us at all; maybe he abhorred the very thought of the pompous elitism of my family, or maybe just of me. Maybe he met a girl, and they—
The whirlwind of my thoughts ground to a halt at that last one. A sick feeling curdled my stomach, and my gut, like my mind, rejected that unsettling thought. I wanted to ponder over this reaction, to reach a conclusion less terrifying than the truth, but in my gut, I knew its nature. Knew why I shut it down so quickly.
I liked Percy. Liked him, liked him—in the way I'd thought I'd liked Luke. Yet this was so much more, so much deeper than that, and I'd realized it too late.
Percy Pov
"Jason," he said.
My brows furrowed, and something nagged at me about the name. I pored over his face, trying to piece together how I knew him. Had he ever visited Manhattan? Lived there maybe? Had I seen him in California? The options were limited, seeing as I'd only ever lived in New York for the majority of my life, hardly visiting outside the state. And I'd have remembered if I'd seen him in California. Right? His eyes just looked so familiar, an electric shock of cobalt blue I'd sworn I'd seen a hundred times.
His eyes hardened then, steeled like chips of ice, and the recognition struck even more profoundly. I'd been wracking my brain for where I'd seen them until I tore my eyes away, mentally face-palming as I realized I'd been staring at him like a total weirdo. Way to go, Percy, creeping him out will definitely help you get to the bottom of this.
"Can I help you with something?" he asked, his voice clipped, taking on a sharper tone than before. He rubbed a self-conscious hand over the scar on his lip.
"Uh, sorry, man," I mumbled, rubbing the back of my head, cheeks heating. I wished the ground would swallow me whole or, better yet, he'd just knock me out cold, so I could mentally check out of how awkward I felt. But first off, ouch!, and second, I couldn't imagine he'd take it very well if I randomly said, "Hey, man, sorry for the awkward, but if you could just hit me in the face as hard as you can, that'd be dope." Oh, yeah, that'd definitely make me seem like less of weirdo. "You just seem really familiar for some reason. You've never visited Manhattan by any chance, have you?"
"Nope. Never been." Jason paused and squinted at me through the sunlight. "I don't think I've ever met you before. I've been told I just have one of those faces though, minus the scar." He reached out to rub at it again, and I could tell how uncomfortable it made him, as though it was fresh or it dredged up bad memories.
I wanted to ask him how he'd gotten it, but as soon as I opened my mouth, I snapped it shut. Don't be a rude ass. You just met the guy, he probably thinks you're a creep, and pointing out the guy's obvious insecurity definitely won't help with that.
I didn't know what to say after that, the conversation having reached an abrupt and awkward close.
"Well, it was nice meeting you, man. Sorry again for—"
"Percy!" Tyson shouted excitedly, splashing through the surf and tearing up the sand towards me. When he reached me, he lofted his open palm my way, and cradled in his small hand sat a sandy disk-like object. "Look what I found."
"No way, a sand dollar. That's cool, bud. Why don't you go and put it back though? You don't want him to die."
Tyson grew perplexed at that, as he gazed down at the tiny creature, gingerly stroking a finger over it. "It's not alive, is it? It's sea money, right? I thought I could buy something with it."
"Yeah, it's alive alright. Sand dollars are actually sea urchins, just flat."
Tyson nodded thoughtfully before trudging back to the sea, whispering softly to the tiny creature. "Don't worry, Mr. Urchin. I'll bring you back home."
A small smile played on my lips as I watched Tyson go, unable to believe that this was my life. At least for a few days. Less than 24 hours ago, I didn't know I had any siblings, let alone that they'd bring me so much joy in the small time I'd known them. It was strange really, but the good kind of strange, and I couldn't help but think about how much of this I'd missed out on. How much time we'd lost and memories we'd never shared. I wished, for the barest moment, that things could be different, that we could make up that lost time.
I shook my head at that, clearing those ill-fated thoughts. I had a life back in California; friends; little brothers not by infidelity but by circumstance; a real father figure who was actually present in my life. I couldn't lose sight of that, even though the thought of leaving, to my shock and horror, saddened me. I'd been determined to hate Miami and the family I'd never known, but I didn't, and that's what scared me.
"He your brother?" Jason, who I'd forgotten was still standing there, asked.
"Yeah."
"Cute kid. How old is he?"
My cheeks tinted at that. "Uh, I actually don't know. I just met him a couple hours ago."
His brows furrowed at that, and I could almost hear the cogs in his brain turning, trying to work out my family dynamic or perhaps deciding if I was joking or not.
"It's complicated." I said, saving him the brain power.
"Oh, I'll bet," He said. "Most families are. I mean, gods, I haven't seen my sister in—" His eyes clouded over then, a stormy expression stealing over his face. I knew he wouldn't finish his sentence even before he said, "well, it was nice talking to you, but I really need to be heading home. I told my friends I'd meet up with them later."
"No worries. Nice meeting you."
His words rang in my ears as I watched him go. Dysfunctional family, brother and sister separated, boy named Jason. I'd heard this story before. But it couldn't be, could it?
A crazy idea-a totally ludicrous, off-your-rocker, sure-to-be-coincidence idea—nagged at my brain the whole drive home.
After returning to the house, I rushed up the stairs and stopped before the third door on the right, the room across from mine. I knocked, and a muffled voice replied, "Come in."
Pushing my way inside, I strode across the room towards Jess, who sat at a computer desk in the far corner of the room, watching some Youtuber talk about conspiracy theories.
"What's up?" she said, spinning around in her chair to face me.
"I need your help with something. On the ride home from the beach—speaking of which, you should've come with; it was really fun."
Jess just shrugged. "Not my thing."
"Anyway, that's not the point. On the ride home, I asked Triton if I could log onto his Facebook just for a second since I don't have one."
"Huh, so you're a weirdo just like him." Jess quipped, smiling teasingly at me.
I decided to ignore that, although I felt the corner of my mouth turn up. "Turns out he isn't on social media at all, but he did say if I wanted to look someone up, you're the person to go to."
"Yep." She clicked off Youtube and logged into Facebook. "Who you looking for?"
"Thalia Grace."
Jess typed in the name and scrolled through the accounts until I stopped her, spotting Thalia's ridiculous profile picture. It was the day I broke the swim record at Yancy; the photo captured the moment I'd rushed up to greet Thalia and Grover after the race. Grover had me in a celebratory hug like a koala while Thalia, grinning madly, had me in a headlock, rubbing a knuckle sandwich into my head.
"Go over to her friends list. I'm looking for someone named Jason. Probably with the last name Grace."
Jess searched the name, both Jason and Jason Grace, yet the search turned up no results.
"Damn." I said, frustrated but not surprised. From what Thalia told me, little as it was, about Jason, her mother did all she could to prevent Thalia from contacting him, or at least that's what Thalia's father said. She'd deleted and blocked Thalia's number on Jason's and her cellphone. She'd gotten caller ID on her home phone to screen all incoming calls. Hell, she'd even read all Jason's outgoing mail. Of course, she'd find a way to stop communication between them on social media too. That is, if this Jason was even the same one. "Can you just search Jason Grace then? Instead of going through Thalia's friends?"
Hundreds of Jason Graces flooded the screen, more than we could possibly look through, at least not in one day. Probably not even in three days either.
Jess scrolled through the list, and each person she stopped on was the wrong Jason.
"No, not him. Too tall." She scrolled again. "Too old." Scroll again. "Hair's too dark. He's blond." Again. "Too…hairy. He doesn't have a beard. Just a scar on his lip." Once again, nothing.
Nada. Zip. Zilch.
"That's okay," I said after scrolling past not even a fraction of the names. Who knew Jason Grace was such a common name. "Not meant to be, I guess. Thanks anyway, Jess."
I turned and made my way to the door, hearing Jess clack away at the keys in response.
"Found him."
That stopped me in my tracks, and I hurried back to the computer, hopeful yet disbelieving. Yet, sure enough, there he was.
"What the hell," I looked at Jess in disbelief. "You're like an FBI agent or something."
"All girls are," she said matter-of-factly. "Why'd you want to find this guy anyway?"
"I think he might be my friend's brother."
Jess raised her eyebrows at that before turning back to the screen and scrolling through his profile. First his posts and then photos. "I'm not seeing anything about a sister, and no one that looks like that other girl. Also, what kind of nickname is Sparky?" She said, pointing out all the times his friends referred to him like that.
"I don't know. Focus, Jess."
A thought struck me then, quick and sharp and electric as lightning, and I couldn't shake it. "Do you think he has an account under a different name?"
"Maybe." Jess said thoughtfully, clicking off Jason's page back to the general search section. She typed "Sparky," and although I initially thought it a bit farfetched, only three results popped up, and one of them stood out to us both.
"JG Sparky," we said at the same time, Jess with distaste and me with astonishment that maybe, just maybe, we were on the right track.
"Sounds like a bad rapper name," Jess said.
"Totally."
She clicked onto the account, devoid of a profile picture and the very epitome of a throw-away account. It was completely blank, barren of everything except one single friend: Thalia Grace.
Three days.
I'd told myself three days in Miami and then I'd kick my dad to the curb as he'd done to me all those years ago. Three days and I'd be back at the Chases': playing legos with Bobby and Matthew; bickering with Annabeth or building a closer relationship, whatever came of it; hanging with Thalia and Grover. But from the moment I encountered Jason on the beach, those plans had changed.
I hadn't known it at first, at least not for certain, but suspicion crept at the corners of my mind, ever-present and unshakeable. The familiar hue of his eyes, the set of his jaw, the shape of his face—he'd reminded me of someone, and now that I knew who, I couldn't leave until I convinced him to go with me.
There you have it-the next chapter posted about 2 years later than I'd intended lol. To those that still read this story, that still to this day favorite and follow and say nice things about it, thank you! If it weren't for you, I'm not sure I'd ever have revisited this story.
Hope you enjoyed, and I promise the next chapter won't take another 2 years to get posted lol!
~TwistedTrident