Nope, I'm not dead, just really busy. I just moved last week, and the month before that was really hectic with packing and everything. So… sorry, but… totally out of my control.
Remember how I said that Percy was getting his GED? Well, he's not. I'm going back and rewriting that. I can't pass up the opportunity to have him… you know what, I'll let you find out.
On a happier note, wish me luck in the Daily News spelling bee this Thursday! If I win, I go to nationals! Although it's not happening. I'm good, but not that good.
In case you were wondering what's up with Hazel's baking, I have something planned.
In honor of Purim, for those of you who celebrate it, here's your hamantashen!
Enjoy!
As six of the Seven sat around the table, Hazel was washing her hands. Clear water ran from the faucet but fell in a multicolored cascade. The rainbow waterfall ran down the sink. "It's not permanent, is it?" she asked Jocelyn worriedly.
"Nope. Definitely not. Say, what did you call these again?"
"Hamantashen. Or aznei Haman, depending on where you're from."
"And they're always rainbow-colored?"
"Uh… no. I just felt like it. They aren't traditionally stuffed with peanut butter and jelly, either."
Jocelyn gestured to the other side of the kitchen, where the second batch of hamantashen were cooling. "So they're traditionally made with marshmallow fluff?"
Hazel laughed. "Marshmallow fluff was being sold by one man door-to-door in 1917 and was only starting to be made commercially in 1920. How could that be traditional?"
Jocelyn shrugged. "I don't know. What's traditional?"
"Fruits, and jellies, and… stuff like that. One of the most popular nowadays is apricot butter."
"Ah-hah. Well, all I know is that they look beautiful and taste amazing. You've gotten good!"
The water running from Hazel's food-coloring stained hands was getting infinitesimally lighter. She blushed. "Thanks, Jocelyn. They're waiting for me. Sorry!" She grabbed a plate of the rainbow confections and ran.
"What are those?" Piper asked, leaning forward to look at the plate.
"Hamantashen?" Percy asked. "Oh my gods, I haven't seen those in ages."
"Who-tashen?" Frank asked.
Hazel grinned. "How do you know what hamantashen are?"
Oh, the look Percy gave her – like an are-you-kidding-me-woman look. "New York City is one of the most culturally diverse places in the world. Probably the most, unless you want to argue that LA ties. But I'm proud to have grown up here.""
"Have you ever tasted one?" Hazel asked, passing the plate.
"My mom's neighbors were old Jewish grandparents. First-generation immigrants. They were so traditional – matzoh balls in chicken soup every night, latkes every Hanukkah, hamantashen every Purim. They'd always invite us for the holidays."
"Um, if you guys are done with your private conversation, can you enlighten us, please?" asked Annabeth.
"Oh, yeah, sorry. So, Purim is a Jewish holiday, happens February-March-ish, celebrates how the Jews were saved. The villain's name was Haman, he wore a tri-pointed hat, so they make triangle cookies. They hide filling inside to show that God was there, that even though He was hidden, He was the one that saved the Jews. The villain was hanged, the Jews were saved, and-they-all-lived-happily-ever-after-the-end," Percy said, pretty much in one breath.
"Oh, yeah, I think I've heard of that. But why are they rainbow? And peanut butter and jelly stuffed?"
Hazel sighed. "Because I wanted to, okay? I was experimenting."
"Well, I can't say anything," Leo said. "Your churros were amazing."
"Oh, the ones you made yesterday? Those were great," Annabeth said enthusiastically.
"Ooooh, right!" said Hazel excitedly. "Before I tell you anything, you guys all liked them?"
Percy looked around before answering, "Yeah," for all of them.
"And Leo, they were deep fried, right?"
"Heck yeah," said Leo.
"Nope," said Hazel simply.
"Whaddaya mean, nope?"
"I mean I baked them."
Leo stared. "Liar."
"I am not!" Hazel said indignantly. "Oh, and I figured out what a chicken nugget is. I'm going to try and make it tomorrow."
"You are such a fast learner, Hazel," Jason sighed. "All I can do is barbecue. And believe me, I've tried."
"You're gonna be so sad when school starts and you can't cook anymore," said Leo.
Hazel groaned. "I'm going to have enough trouble getting used to your vernacular," she grumbled. "New Yorkers talk so fast, and you all curse and use slang so much!"
Everyone laughed.
Percy sat in the black chair, heart thumping wildly, stomach churning. The nurse, Emma, hooked an IV line into Percy's chest port that already ached from having blood drawn a few moments earlier. The port had been inserted surgically a few days earlier. His friends had assumed that his not eating and day-long disappearance was cancer related and tactfully not said anything. The big black bag hanging from the pole made Percy shiver.
The chemotherapy medication was cold, Percy realized. He felt the liquid travel up his arm, up, up, up, until his whole body was overcome with cold and the specific feeling was lost.
Emma sat down across from Percy. "I'm going to stay here for your first time," she said. "Okay?"
Percy nodded, although he felt like he was going to vomit. "How long is this going to take?"
"Fifteen minutes, or so. Do you want music, a book, anything?"
Percy shook his head and immediately wished he hadn't. The nausea crept higher into his throat. He saw Emma start for a basin and to cover it up, he croaked, "I'm dyslexic, no books, thanks."
Emma didn't look convinced. "Percy, I've been a nurse for four years. Do you know how many people I've seen throw up? You don't have to act manly."
Percy smiled wanly. "I'd prefer not to vomit anyway, thanks."
Emma settled back into her chair and Percy took a few deep breaths, keeping perfectly still so that the feeling of light-headedness would stay inside his head, thank you very much.
"Sooo," Emma said, breaking the silence, her voice oddly loud in Percy's ears. "What were you doing this summer?"
Conversation seemed to bring a welcomed distraction, so Percy answered, "I still am a counselor at a camp in Long Island."
"You came all the way here from Long Island?" Emma sounded amazed.
Percy smiled. "I'm a city kid. I can get places pretty fast here. And my mom and stepdad live inan apartment on – oh my gods!"
"Are you okay?" Emma asked, grabbing the basin and holding it out.
"No, no - it's just – I mean – I never told my mom that I had cancer."
"What?" Emma asked incredulously.
"I don't know… Wow. I am the worst son ever."
"What are you going to do?" Emma asked in a tone that let Percy know that he had better give the right answer, or else.
"I don't know…" Percy said. "I guess I'll go there today." And then abruptly, his face turned green and he doubled over. Emma quickly slid the basin onto Percy's lap and stood behind him, rubbing circles into his back.
A minute later, Percy raised his head. "Thank you," he whispered, mortified.
Emma tactfully took the basin to the sink and rinsed it out.
Something beeped, and Emma turned around. "Alright, Jackson, you're outta here." She unplugged Percy from the IV line.
As Percy stumbled out, Emma added, "You lasted longer than anyone else in their first round. Trust me, it gets better."
But Percy was already gone.
Percy walked up the steps of his mother's apartment. His nausea had abated somewhat, but he was not looking forward to the motherly attack he felt sure would follow his depressing announcement.
He let himself into the apartment. His mother came out of the hallway, saying, "Paul?" She stopped short at the sight of Percy. Her face went white.
"Percy?" she breathed.
The next thing he knew, his mother's arms were around him and she was hugging him as tightly as she could. His port was pressed up uncomfortably against her chest, but he did not allow himself to make a sound and settled for wincing silently.
When she didn't let go, however, Percy said, "Mom? Are you okay?" His voice was muffled by his mother's embrace.
"Yes. Just… Give me a moment to hug my son whom I know full well has been going on fifty bazillion dangerous quests, okay?" Her voice sounded strong, joking even, but Percy detected the little quiver in her voice. Guilt overcame him as he thought of what he was about to tell her.
Sally finally pulled away. "Guess what."
"You… ran out of blue candy."
"Never! I'm insulted you'd even think that."
"You… wrote another book."
"Nah… I'm still in the middle of the one I was writing a while ago."
"You… Oh, I give up, what?"
"Percy," she said, pulling back and looking her son in the eye, holding his shoulder, "I'm pregnant."
I'm pretty sure I only got this one guest review. If I missed you, forgive me. Like I said, life's been hectic.
A: I did.