Annabeth needs to take time to calm down before she can drive home. Not long, though; it's not as if she's a complete mess.

Everything on the way to her bedroom is a blur. When she sits down on her bed, she feels as if she's losing all of her will to stay upright. She collapses, honestly, though she'd rather not use that word. She's always hated it. Weak buildings collapse—buildings with faulty designs. Annabeth isn't weak or faulty.

(Then what's wrong with me?)

Just as quickly as she's collapsed, she rebuilds herself. That's a talent she can't remember not knowing. She rebuilt herself when her mom disappeared. She rebuilt herself when her father couldn't quite look at her anymore. She rebuilt herself when she stopped feeling welcome in the house she'd occupied since birth.

Maybe Annabeth isn't as strong as she wishes she could be, but she's been built to last.

She remembers something, and she has no idea where it comes from, but it gets her to her feet. It gets her to her messy, possibly dangerous closet. For a moment she has to root through fallen sweaters and lone shoes, but under all of the mess, she finds it: an old, beat-up composition notebook. The handwriting has changed a bit, but it's still recognizable as her own.

Property of Annabeth Chase

DO NOT READ

The first entry is from the eighth grade, and as she reads the first words Annabeth doesn't know if it's painful or pleasantly nostalgic.

I got a C on my biology test, but whatever. I didn't study that much. I don't want to be a doctor. Plus, Rachel got a D so I'm doing pretty good in comparison.

I have a date with Luke tomorrow! We've been dating for almost a year now but I still get so excited when I get to spend time with him. He's taking me to the winter dance even though it's just a stupid middle school thing and he's a junior.

Oh, my god. Is he gonna take me to prom? I just thought about that.

I have this dress for the dance and I don't really like it, but Luke said he really liked it and Piper said I looked hot in it and I guess that's good? I don't even think I know what hot is, much less how to be hot. I'm glad I don't have to wear heels, though. Luke said he likes how much shorter I am than him so it's okay.

It's gonna be fun, either way. It's for all grades, so I'll get to hang out with Piper too! I think she has a thing for Jason, which is honestly kinda funny.

Carol's yelling at me to start my homework.

She talked about Luke a lot, Annabeth notices. She doesn't even remember that dance very well. It's kind of cute to see things from her thirteen-year-old self's point of view, she decides as she flips to the next entry.

The dance was fun.

I didn't talk to Piper a lot though. I mostly just hung out with Luke.

He kissed me a lot after. And other things too.

It was weird, but I guess it was okay. Luke said he had fun.

Something tight spreads in Annabeth's throat. (She doesn't even remember that dance very well.)

It can't be what she thinks it is. She has no idea why the thoughts in her head came so easily, but they can't be true. That can't be right.

Matthew and Bobby are thirteen right now. Her little brothers. She doesn't really remember the last time she talked to them, either, but she sees them around the house. They still look ten, for god's sake. They still watch Saturday morning cartoons. Annabeth tries to imagine one of them going on a date with Piper, but her mind rejects the image.

So instead, she thinks about how she looked at thirteen. Her hair was always tangled, even more than it is now, and she wore that Yankees hat every chance she got. (It's hung up on her wall, now, covered in a variety of stains from all the dirt New York had to offer.)

She wore baggy corduroy jeans and baseball tees all the time. She had the same beat-up sneakers from sixth grade through eighth because she never wanted to ask her dad or Carol for a new pair. Not because they couldn't afford it; just out of stubbornness.

She was a child. She was so small that it's difficult for Annabeth to register the image in her head as herself. Had she really been that young?

Annabeth's cheek starts stinging again, and she throws the journal back into her closet. Maybe she slams the door shut a bit too hard.

She doesn't feel right.

She doesn't really remember.

Was I really that young?

Maybe she did homework that night. Maybe she ate the family dinner. She doesn't really remember.

.

Maybe it's not the best choice, but there's no way Percy can force himself to sit next to Annabeth at lunch the next day. (He needs space as much as she does, but he doesn't think of it that way.)

Even though he likes sitting there and throwing insults with Piper and slowly-but-surely growing a budding bromance with Jason, it's not enough. (He made her cry yesterday. She made him cry, too, but he's already starting to forget about that.)

So Percy sits alone. And it's not that bad—or, it shouldn't be. He sat alone for a really long time, and he's only been sitting with them for a month, max. It shouldn't feel like he's missing something.

Not even just Annabeth. He misses all of it.

Being alone kind of sucks, he thinks for the first time since he was awkward and sad and thirteen years old. Back then, being alone had been a punishment. Because he was the weird poor delinquent kid who always smelled like tobacco (he's never smoked in his life) and didn't bother trying to hide his bruises (he's never been in a fight).

Somewhere along the line, Percy hit puberty, and people stopped avoiding him because he was weird. They were avoiding him because he was scary. Nobody ever told him—well, Annabeth did. Once. Kind of. —but he noticed. Guys started sizing him up. Girls started checking him out. Both were equally confusing at first, but he caught on soon enough.

The solution he came up didn't work perfectly, but well enough: transition from toughass to smartass (or dumbass, depending on who you ask). He's still too unapproachable—something about his face, he guesses—but people stare less. The apprehension fades into eye rolls surprisingly quickly if you make enough stupid comments. (It probably helped when the bruises and stench of cigars finally faded.)

Percy is so lost in his own thoughts, mapping out everything that's changed since the eighth grade, that it takes him a moment to register it when Piper sits down across from him at the table.

"Is there a reason that you've seceded from the Union, Jackson?" She asks, one eyebrow quirked, a typical smirk perched on her lips. That joke is probably a bit cleverer than he understands, judging from the light in her eyes.

"Nothing I can think of off the top of my head, no." His own sarcastic air falls noticeably flat. Piper's brows furrow.

"Are you okay? Like, seriously. I'm kinda freaked out."

A thought occurs to him, dimly, but it's a door he feels the need to open. "Did you do her makeup yesterday?"

Now all expression leaves Piper's face; she might even go a shade or two lighter than she usually is. That's a pretty definite answer in Percy's book, and his stomach turns over.

"Has it been happening for a long time?' He asks immediately, not waiting for her to give an official answer, his voice going low.

She bites her lip, and there's a second where Percy thinks she might try to deny any knowledge, but instead, she shakes her head. "This is the first time he's actually hit her."

There's so much disbelief and anger in her voice—concealed, but poorly—that he's almost relieved. He's not alone in this. (She's not alone in this.)

"Their relationship, though," Piper sighs, mulling over her next words before continuing, "isn't healthy. It's never been, I don't think."

"Isn't he, like, five years older than her?"

Her nod is grim. Percy's stomach turns again; he wasn't aware of his organs' athleticism.

"That's disgusting," he says, with more weight than he'd intended. (But Jesus, is that fucked up.)

All she can do is nod again. They look at each other for a moment—Piper's eyes are more guarded than he'd noticed before—and Percy knows for sure that they're on the same side. What he doesn't quite know is how they plan on fighting.

"Were you guys gonna tell us that you eloped?" An errant voice asks, startling Percy off his train of thought. He turns to see Jason, who's grinning and only shows confusion in his one raised eyebrow. He definitely got that from Piper.

"I just couldn't figure out how to break it to you," Piper pouts, already standing from the table. "I need to go spend some time with my side chick, Jackson. Okay with you?"

She's trying to convey something to him with her eyes, but he can't quite make out what it is, so he nods.

When he's alone again, it somehow feels worse.

This is short again, but it's pretty calm compared to the last few. It's not filler. It's, like, the opposite of filler, actually. I couldn't think of what needed to come next for the life of me to get us to point B, but this was it. What do you guys think? Is there anything else you think absolutely needs to happen before we end this thing?