THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR FOLLOWS, FAVORITES, AND REVIEWS!
I DO NOT OWN.
Issues
Katie Gardner's POV
Percy has now lived in my house for a couple of months; it was early November. During the time he spent living with me and my daddy, I've learned some very interesting things about Percy.
1. Percy does not cry—at all. Some kid called him stupid and pushed him off the swing set, breaking a bone in his hand, and Percy didn't even wince. There were no tears whatsoever.
2. Percy did not like giving out information about himself. Every time some person asked what his name was, he would answer with a name that wasn't his, like Michael, Steve, Malcolm, or even Muhammad once. He wouldn't even tell people what color his eyes were!
3. Percy had no fear. I would watch with amazement as he would fearlessly jump out of the truck every time my daddy mentioned an adoption center or whatnot. Then Percy would hike up the road to some unknown destination. He would walk off and enter the real world, which I was always told was bad, with no thought process of bad things that could happen to him. I actually had a hard time telling if it was because he didn't care or if he really was fearless sometimes.
4. Percy really was a child prodigy. He would easily answer any math question—such as 123,456 divided by 3 equals 41,152—in seconds, and he would sprout random facts and quotes from books. He was learning the piano and the guitar even though he was blind, and spent the first years if his life drawing magnificent pictures.
5. Percy loved his mommy. Everyone guessed that he had run away, maybe because he had no parents, but no—he had a loving mother who was probably worried sick for his safety. Percy would talk about how great she was for hours on end.
6. Percy had imaginary friends. He called them "shadow friends," but it was all the same to me. Though he would argue otherwise: "Imaginary friends are people you admire. Shadow friends are just annoying and are going to get me sent to jail." He would talk to them aimlessly while in the garden and save seats for them at dinner. Each one had a name and special personality.
7. Percy was crazy. My grandfather had said so. He had a degree in child phycology, and was persistent on getting through to everyone that Percy was insane. Not that he would send Percy off or anything. At least, I hoped not. I liked Percy; he was a nice friend once you got to know him.
These facts were swirling in my head as I followed Percy, under Grandpa's orders, in the garden. He was whispering and smiling to a person who didn't exist. I checked my small garden as he blindly went in a circle, waving his arms for emphasis as he started talking to Penny, who wasn't real. "No, no, no! No throwing pies at people's faces!" he whisper shouted. "And no, I won't do it for you either!"
Truthfully, I didn't understand the whole "madness" thing. Daddy said I was too young, and that I would understand when I got older.
Too bad for him; I didn't want to wait.
"Percy? Percy?" I went up behind him and latched my hand onto his wrist.
He turned, not surprised at all. "Yes, Butterfly?"
There were two more things for the list:
8. Percy could not be surprised. Even though he could not see a thing, it was like he could, because he could tell you when a phone was about to ring or if someone was heading our way.
9. Percy liked to give people nicknames, just to annoy them. Mine was 'Butterfly,' and Grandpa's was 'Pops.' I got mine after I started chasing a butterfly around the garden, and then began describing it like it was the best thing in the world when Percy asked; Grandpa got his because Percy thought "Grandpa" or "Grandfather" were old, boring, and over used. My daddy was still waiting anxiously for his.
I ground my teeth, and then remembered my question. "Do you really believe that they're real?"
"You mean my shadow friends? Well, what do you think?" He tilted his head to the side and raised his left eyebrow to where it barely showed over the top of his sunglasses.
"I don't know! That's why I'm asking!"
He shrugged, a smirk playing upon his face. Walking backwards, he continued, "Sure you don't know. Answer this: Do you believe your Pops more? Or me?"
I pondered that and mindlessly followed Percy as he climbed onto my home's front porch.
Really, now that I think of it, I was really stupid as a seven year old and should have been paying attention.
Finally, I answered: "You haven't said anything for me to believe and—oh." I was on top of the roof, and Percy was smirking a triumphant smirk, standing at the ledge, looking like he could fall at any second—which was, indeed, correct. "Oh my—What am I doing up here?!" I shrieked, crouching down so I could grasp the roof tiles with my hands.
He threw his head back and laughed a real laugh. Unbelievable! I could roll off the roof at any possible second and he was laughing and standing like there wasn't a worry in the world, like it was normal to be on the roof. Of course, anything to do with Percy was not by any standards considered normal. "Stand up," he ordered kindly. "I won't let you fall."
I shook, but I followed his directions and eventually stood up on the roof, perfectly balanced. "Hey, this isn't so bad."
"Nope." He pats me on the back as a joke, teasing me as soon as I shrieked and bent me knees.
"That was mean, Percy." I made my best sad face, but Percy didn't care—he couldn't see it. Duh!
He smiled, but this one seemed fake; most of his smiles were fake, actually. I was the only person who could tell half the time. "I'm sorry that I did something mean, Butterfly," he teased. Then he furrowed his brows and held his hands out to his sides. "Is the sun setting already?"
I looked up, still clutching the tiles but slowly rising. "Yep." I stood up straighter, holding my hands out to my sides for balance. I knew what he was about to ask. He always asked.
"What does it look like? The sunset, I mean." He had a mournful expression on his face.
I sighed quietly, but not in irritation; more like in sadness. What could it possibly be like to be brought to a world of dark, after so many years of light? I balanced my way over to him and turned him to face the sunset. Standing behind him, I felt really sad when I finally saw the sunset. It was gorgeous.
"Okay, you already know the sun is setting," I started. "The sky is a mixture of orange and red, but there are also clouds that look pinkish. The sun itself is bright, bright orange, lighter on the outside and darker as you go to the center. It's close too, looks huge. Oh, and you remember Mrs. Ganes apple tree, right? The one you always take apples from? It's like on the left inside part of sun, pitch black, like… a shadow. No color."
I continued like that, more than likely repeating myself numerous times, but Percy enjoyed it. I was his eyes. After each description he would and talk to himself some more.
"Oh, and there are some birds flying in front of the sun now. I don't know what type…"
"Crows, over the top part, right?" Percy turned around to face me, turning his back to the sun.
"R—right. How did you know?"
He shrugged, a small movement of his shoulders. "Ryan told me. He doesn't say much though, so I let him tell me all the stuff you forget or don't know." He turned back to the sunset.
"Ooookkkkaaaayyyy… That—that makes sense." I gulped. So shadow friends can also see for him? What was this guy? Psychic?
"Done," I complained after a while. "I can't say any more. My vocabulary isn't that big." I took steps back, and he turned his back to the sinking sun, still on the very edge of the roof.
"Maybe you're lithological," Percy joked.
"What?" I asked.
"It means you cannot think of the word you want to use. Well, in your case, you don't even know what word you want to use."
I nodded like that made sense. "Where do you even learn these words?"
He winced. "My mom wants to be an author, and Jess and Thax use words like that."
Jess and Thax. They were also shadow friends. Oh joy. It's time for more awesomeness. Sarcasm included.
"Do you think they're real, Percy?" I asked.
"You already asked that, and no, I don't. I know they are not real, nor are they hallucinations, for your information. I created them." Last fading sunlight bounced off his sunglasses.
I blinked in surprise. "But you treat them so real… Everyone figured you thought they were real."
"Well, I do not, thank you very much. I'm not that much of a mental nutcase." He gave a fake, empty grin. It was completely worthless in my book. Didn't do a thing but build up his little façade. Why couldn't everyone else see it—his act?
Another thing on the list:
10. Percy hid his emotions most of the time. He was seriously the world's best actor. He would give out fake smiles and laughs just to show people he wasn't all that sad, which he was, though I didn't know why. When he was extra sad, he would simply give a tight smile than ask to go to his room, where I would hear him critiquing his every action, where he would call himself stupid and useless.
Oh, the joys of being a genius seven year-old.
"How can you tell they are hallucinations, if you were—are…?" I searched for the word.
Percy beat me to it. "—mental? Easy. I can see them with my eyes."
"That… doesn't make sense." I placed my index finger on my chin, making my thinking face.
"Sure it does." He shrugged, another smirk playing on his lips.
Where was that nagging feeling when I really needed it? I didn't want to feel like an idiot in front of Percy—again. "How?" I asked.
"Blind people don't see with their eyes, Katie." He tapped the top of his sunglasses, and they reflected light all over, like in a movie. If I tried hard enough, I swear I could see the faint outline of his eyes. Then he raised his arms out to his sides—
—and fell.
Percy Jackson fell from the top of my home, which was two and a half stories high. (There was an architectural problem, and the basement stuck out from the ground more than usual.)
"Percy!" I screeched, racing to the edge, not even caring if I fell. I peeked over the edge, and there he was—perfectly safe; on the ground; hands up in the air as if he'd stuck the landing, which was highly possible; and then waving for me to join him.
As if! I was not that crazy.
Turns out I didn't need to be crazy; my hands did the job for me. My hands, sweaty from nervousness, slipped from the tiles, and I tumbled forward, falling, falling, falling. I braced myself for impact by closing my eyes tight and hunching my shoulders.
I did another flip in the air, my feet aimed for the ground.
Then something really weird happened, and I lived with Percy Jackson, where everything was extremely weird by normal standards.
I landed on Percy.
He, being the blind guy he was, had not realized that I was falling where he was standing, only that I was screaming my head off and the scream seemed to be getting closer.
There goes genius out the window.
But when I landed on Percy, I didn't exactly land on him, so to speak.
He tuned at the last second, held out his arms, and caught me—bridal style.
He laughed and dropped me—just dropped me—on the ground. "Wow, Butterfly, first you get onto me for landing on you, then you go and try to land on me? That's hypocritical."
Jeez, people! We were seven! What does hypo—hippopotamus… hypocritical even mean?
I didn't bother to ask, because Percy would probably just say another big word that I didn't know the meaning to—or, as he'd say, the definition to.
Being best friends with a vocabulary freak had its perks.
I stood up and gave him a friendly shove. "Not funny, Percy. I just fell from the roof."
"So did I," he countered.
"No, you jumped from the roof," I pointed out. "Even if you didn't nec… necis… necessarily jump."
He cocked his head to the side. "Good point. And exceptional vocabulary. It's better than some adults'."
I smiled from the praise. Go me! We both started heading for inside, and this time we didn't end up with a detour to the roof.
When we stepped inside, Daddy told us to go wash out hands, because dinner was being served. He eyed Percy warily, as if he expected him to go out and chuck a fork at him because Penny told him to. Percy nudged me and said, "Staring is rude, Mr. Gardner." He paused. "I still don't have a nickname for you? Does Bogart do? It's a Dutch name that means apple garden. You get 'garden' in your name, and I get 'apples' with it, too."
My daddy flushed a dark red color. He mouthed to me, How can he tell?
I mouthed back, Shadow friends are strange. I don't know if he understood it, since I was a horrible mouth speaker (person who mouths words, lip reader—no… Forget it), but Percy sure got it.
"Shadow friends are strange, Bogart, but they keep me connected with the real world. They tell me things, like how got your nose broken when you were fifteen because you tried to kiss a girl, but she punched you. It wasn't what you were expecting, huh?"
I don't know if Percy was talking about the punch or his knowing in the first place. Either way, they were both creepy.
That brings me to another thing I learned about Percy:
11. Percy was scary. He could get people to do whatever he wanted, whether it was by tricking them or commanding them. He knew things that people had never told anyone in their life. He knew what went through people's minds. He could get into peoples' heads, and he would stay there until they were screaming for him to leave. It was all so nerve wrecking and uncanny and frightening. He could do anything he wanted. If he wanted something badly enough, no one could stop him.
My daddy's eyes widened and he went to go finish dinner. Percy and I went to go wash our hands in the restroom. I was high-strung and nervous until all of us were sitting at the dinner table, feeling my heart race at a gazillion miles per second.
It's not like he would hurt me, right?
Now I knew why my daddy and grandpa were so jittery and wary around Percy.
I couldn't tell.
Nobody could tell.
"Pass the salt, please," I said, feeling my nervousness disappear. Percy was nice; he couldn't even step on an ant on purpose.
"Okay." Percy was sitting to my right, and he reached out and snatched the salt for me. Before he handed it to me, though, he shook it over his own food. He placed it in front of my plate. "There. Now you can have it."
Whoever said blind people couldn't do anything for themselves was pretty… well… stupid. And this is coming from a seven year-old!
Grandpa, who was having dinner with us, was sitting in front of me, and he gave a small grunt of distaste. "Pops wants the salt, too, Butterfly," Percy told me, taking the salt and sliding it across the table in one smooth motion. "Then Bogart can take it."
Grandpa and Daddy didn't argue and took the salt, sprinkling some on their dinner plates. Daddy gave in first. "It does taste better this way. Thank you, Percy." He made a face like it hurt to say that.
"I may be no cook, but I know when something needs the wonder of salt. Salt is awesome. Pepper is okay, too, but I'd rather dump it." Percy had a mischievous smile on his face.
All I could think was, No, no, no, no, no…
He grabbed the black pepper and dumped it all over the table. "Tell me, does it look like snow?" he asked.
It was so silent that you could hear a pin drop. My daddy was fuming, his face red all over, his hands outstretched like he wanted to choke Percy to an inch of his life.
Grandpa held out an arm. "Don't, son. I will talk to him. I am a child psychologist."
He left, practically dragging Percy behind him, who had a look of triumph and… guilt? Percy could feel guilt, just like his weird joy for annoying people?
12. Percy cared. He wasn't selfish. He didn't just do whatever he felt like. Percy actually cared about other people around him, even if he didn't know them all that well, like when he asked why a middle-aged women was crying; he ended up comforting her for over an hour, too stubborn to be dragged away. He never did tell us why she was crying in the first place. He said he was sworn to secrecy.
I followed my grandfather to the office, and maybe, possible, most likely eavesdropped in on the conversation he was having with my best friend. "Now, Percy," Grandpa was saying. "Why'd you do it?"
"I felt like it. I was bored," Percy replied breezily.
"Why were you bored?"
"I lived in the woods and on the run. A normal day for me is an exciting day for you."
I heard papers being shuffled. I was really worried about my grandpa; Percy had told me that he had had a therapist before. It didn't end well. "Can you tell me what it was like, Percy?"
"Can I cut your hair?" I couldn't tell if Percy was saying this to prove a point, or if he really wanted to cut my grandfather's hair, which was quite a bit for someone so old.
"Excuse me?" Grandpa asked.
"Can—I—cut—your—hair? It has a simple answer to a simple question."
"Why would I say yes?"
"Because I'll talk." Was Percy making a deal with my grandfather? From the information I know about Percy, he'll talk, but not about what you want. He'll either make it seem better or will divert the attention elsewhere.
"Fine."
Wha…?
I cracked the door open a bit, just enough to where I could see Percy holding a pair of scissors by my scared grandpa.
Snip, snip, snip. Percy cut his hair. "It's not that bad, actually, the woods and stuff. It's a big change from cities and all, but it's quiet and peaceful. If I could see, I would also say beautiful…" He chattered on and on and on, talking about how he had to get food and a time where he accidently ran into the police, who realized he was a run away. That was why he ran into the rodeo the way he did; he was escaping the police.
When Grandpa finally opened his eyes, he was looking at a mirror. "Wow… This actually looks… good."
"See? I'm not bad at cutting hair. I just needed a new experience. Thanks for being my, ummm, prototype, you could say. You could've been stabbed for all I know."
"Oh."
On that happy note, Percy began talking about gorillas. "Have you ever seen a gorilla? I went to a zoo when I was six and saw one. It was big, but I couldn't get close 'cause there was this big glass window caging the gorilla in. Why do people call animals 'it?' It doesn't make sense. There are boys and girls. Did you know gorillas…"
I added one more thing onto my list of things I learned about Percy:
13. Percy does not have issues. He's just different. He sees the world differently and expresses himself differently. And he just had terrible luck with people, I guess, because no one else understands. Like me with that weird fear of the number thirteen… triskaidekaphobia.
Longer, yes? It is nine pages. Is it funny? Sorry there isn't as much action. I'll make the next one more, uh, action-y. It seems a little jumpy to me though…
Review, favorite, follow!
Peace and all that other stuff.
~XxxXGreek GeekXxxX