Chapter seven
Thalia
Dinner passes without another word. Poseidon needs to stop bringing up the 'marriage' thing. Annabeth has pulled inside herself, and it's a bit unsettling. Percy hasn't said much, either. When we're done eating, everyone heads to the car. The ride to the Jackson's house is just as quiet. I put in my earbuds and listen to the sweet music of Paramore for forty-five minutes.

Annabeth stares out the window at the passing streets. I know she's making notes of the architecture; even I have to admit that it's glorious. Percy looks out then opposite window. It's dark outside; when we were in the city there were lights to illuminate the night, but now they're looking at nothing more than shadows.

The car makes its way up a driveway. "We're here," Poseidon says quietly. The chauffeur opens the car door. It's the same one that came to drive us to California... Beckendorf? Silenna stands next to him, and she offers a smile. There's another man who I don't recognize; Percy and he seem to be having a conversation through nods, gestures, and 'hmm's.

"I'm supposed to show you your rooms." She turns to lead us into the house, when Annabeth breaks her silence.

"What about our bags? Shouldn't we get them?"

Silenna shakes her head. "Nah. Charlie took 'em upstairs earlier."

The house is beautiful. It's big, too, and I wonder how many people live here. Silenna walks up a set of stairs, talking all the way. "So, what's California like? I've never left New York State. I mean, it's all right here, but I'd like to go somewhere else, y'know?"

Annabeth gives a small smile. "It's okay. A bit warmer."

"So, what's New York like?" I ask. Silenna launches into a long speech about growing up here and how it's probably like everywhere else only with the city so close. I don't think she breathed once from start-to-finish.

"Here we are! Annabeth, you're on the left, Thalia, the next door over. Percy's room is down there-" she points to the other end of the hall- "and he stays in it most of the time. Downstairs there's a rec room and the library. Outside, the gardens and the swimming pool." A little thing on Silenna's hip buzzes. "Oh, I've got to go. Lotta, that's the head of the kitchen staff, needs me to go to the store. Night!" Silenna dashes down the hall and then the steps.

"Discussion, ten minutes?" Annabeth asks. I nod; discussions meant there were problems. Discussions were for those really serious times when one of us was closet a mental breakdown. Discussions happened when the step-bitch moved in. Discussions happened when Annabeth gets sent across the country to marry a stranger.
Discussions meant trouble.

Annabeth

I walk into my bedroom. It's nice, really nice. The walls are a dark turquoise, the wood trim painted white. The floor is covered in thick white carpet. A desk sits in one corner, an empty book shelf in the opposite. By the shelf is a comfy-looking beanbag chair. The bed, though, is a bit much. It's a four-poster queen size with a lacy white canopy and gray sheets. As promised, my luggage waits for me, located by white closet doors. The last corner holds two overstuffed white chairs and a television with a DVD player. Thalia and I can have movie day.

This day has been so stressful and I want to go to sleep, but I need to talk with Thalia. I need to formulate a plan of escape. We'll need somewhere to escape to, because my dad once said there's no sense in running if you don't have somewhere to run to. He was talking about my (failed) attempt at running away from home after he married Carol, but the logic still applies.

So we need somewhere to run to, but where? I'd have to leave the States, certainly, maybe even the continent? Plane tickets were traceable. So were credit/debit cards. We'd need cash. This was going to get expensive...

As I formulated a plan, I went though my suitcase and found my owl pajamas- they still smelled like home. I changed and started to unpack. I'll hang my shirts up in the closet and put my shoes by the door, and my toiletries in the bathroom. Where is the bathroom?

There's a knock on the door. Thalia. "Come in!" I shout from inside the closet. The bar's too tall and the hangers won't hook over the top. The whole 'tip-toes' thing just isn't working. "Hey Thals? Can you bring me one of the chairs from the corner?" The voice that replies nearly gives me a heart attack.

"I'm sure Thalia would, but she's not here." Percy. Standing in the closet doorway, nearly six feel of attractive- I mean, six feet of stupidity. Don't screw with the escape plan, Annabeth, you idiot. "You know this is adjustable, right?" He grabs the bar, lifts, moves it down a few notches, and sets it back in place. "There. You should be able to reach it now."

We're in close proximity to each other. So close, I can smell him. He smells like the ocean breeze, fresh air and salt. Stick with the program, Annabeth! I chastise myself.
"I came to say goodnight, and that tomorrow's usually when we start planning 4th of July stuff. Oh, and my dad has a thing about wearing pajamas to breakfast, so I'd suggest changing before you come down." He seems flustered, very different from the confident boy he'd been seconds before. His Dad must make him nervous. "So... Goodnight, I guess."

He starts to leave, and I realize he's barefoot.

"Goodnight, Percy," I say quietly as he shuts the door behind him.

The real Thalia shows up a minute later in her PJs- black cloud-print pants and a tank top with a lightning bolt. She's demanding details.

"He came in, adjusted the closet bar thing, stated plans for tomorrow, said goodnight and left! That's all that happened!"

She gives me a 'that's a load of crap' look. "Right. So, we needed a Discussion?"

Oh gods, did we need a discussion. I suppose I should explain the Discussions.

When I was a kid, I used to have a diary. Wrote everything in it, my thoughts about Dad marrying Carol and how she was mean to me. She found it one day, and read through it. I got spanked and yelled at (the yelling for me being a liar, the spanking for sassing when I said she had no right to read it) and soon after I just started telling Thalia all my problems. Carol couldn't read her. Thal was loyal, a good listener, and occasionally offered advice back. I, in turn, listened to her problems, too. Hers were worse than mine-abusive alcoholic mother, annoying neighbors who liked to break windows, that sort of thing.

"So, what's wrong with Percy Jackson?" Thalia asks. We go sit in the white chairs.
"That's just the thing, Thals. I can't find anything wrong with him!"

"You've ruled out everything?" She sounds just as shocked as I am. "Garlic breath? Orange eyes? Face like a horse's behind? Chipmunk voice? Hairy toes?" I shake my head. "You mean you ruled out the hairy toes?" I nod. The short glimpse I caught of his bare feet showed a lack of hair on any toes. Thalia throws her arms up. "I give up. You guys are perfect for each other."