Chapter 4: Strawberries!
Clara's Age: Thirteen
"I need to go get some groceries, Clara," Percy announced. "I'll be back in half an hour."
"Right," Clara said, not even looking up from the dusty architecture book she had pulled off the top of her father's bookshelf.
She heard the door close and immediately stood up. Something in the book had, again, piqued her interest. On the inside of the front cover, in her father's handwriting, was scribbled.
To my favorite daughter of Athena. Happy Birthday!
-Love, your Seaweed Brain
Her inherent curiosity finally overwhelmed her determination to follow her father's instructions not to enter the house's third bedroom. There had been too many hints to something. Too many references to gods and myths, and too many strange family friends. And Clara was convinced that the answer was locked away in that room.
So she fished the key out from the spot where she knew her dad hid it- under the little sunken ship in the fish tank- and went to unlock the door to the room.
She stepped inside and tried to flick the light switch. Nothing happened; the bulb had died, its filament worn away, after too much unused.
She stepped carefully across the room to where a hollow square of light seeped in- a window with blinds, she assumed. She found, however, that there were no blinds; the window was boarded up with plywood.
Frustrated, she crossed back out of the room and into the upstairs hallway, which was well lit by light seeping in through huge windows. Allowing her eyes to adjust back to the light, she quickly descended the stairs and made her way to the garage, where the largest flashlights were kept.
She returned to the room with a large flashlight, powered by one of those huge 6 V Lantern batteries, to shed some light on the situation.
What she found was far from what she was expecting.
The room's walls were covered in strips of lumber and tree bark, with leaves painted here and there. The ceiling was painted like the night sky; a full moon and stars could be seen above her head. The whole room had a very campout-style feel to it.
Finally, the beam of light landed on the left-hand wall. Here, on a rack were weapons. What Clara found immensely strange, though, was that they were not guns; it was a collection of swords and spears, along with a pair of shields that had wicked looking bosses. They reflected the light from her flashlight, though, in a manner distinctly unlike any metal she had ever seen. It was almost like bronze, but not quite.
At the top of the rack was, poised as if in a place of honor, a foot long combat knife. She found herself wondering why it was so special. Hanging just below the knife was a horn, like that of a bull. But somehow, it gave her the distinct impression of being much, much more dangerous.
On the other side of the room was a rather old looking television set. She found herself thinking 'television set' rather than just 'TV' because of how old it looked. 'Television set' just seemed to be a better descriptor. Next to it, with cables running to the television set, was something just as old-looking; a VHS player. Having grown up on Blu-Ray and DVD, she hand only ever used a VHS once, and that was just because she was trying to convert it to DVD.
She walked over to the television and turned it on. She soon found that there was no cable or satellite brining channels to this TV; just the VHS player.
Clara looked around for a tape, but only found one. The sticky paper strip attacked to the top simply had the word 'memories' scribbled on it.
She pushed it into the VHS player and squinted at it until she found the 'play' button. She pressed it.
A grainy image flickered onto the screen. It looked like it had been taken with a hand recorder, by someone who wasn't necessarily good with a hand recorder. It wobbled and bounced a bit. You could hear the cameraman breathing.
On the screen was an attractive boy, sixteen or so, seated at a picnic table. The locale was serene; a beautiful forest, and what seemed to be a lake. It was sunset.
"Hey," a blonde-haired girl, holding a cake said, sliding on the bench next to him. "Happy birthday."
She was holding a huge misshapen cupcake with blue icing.
The boy stared at her. "What?"
"It's August 18," she said. "Your birthday, right?"
He looked at the cake for a moment
"Make a wish," she said.
"Did you bake this yourself?" he asked.
"Tyson helped."
"That explains why it looks like a chocolate brick," the boy said. "With extra blue cement."
The girl laughed.
He blew out the candle.
They cut it in half and shared, eating with their fingers.
"Ohmygods!" whispered a girl's voice, somewhere near the cameraman. "Just kiss her already!"
"Shut up, Silena," muttered the cameraman. "They'll hear you."
"You saved the world," the girl at the bench said.
"We saved the world," the boy corrected.
"And Rachel is the new Oracle, which means she won't be dating anybody."
"You don't sound disappointed."
She shrugged. "Oh, I don't care."
"Uh-uh."
She raised an eyebrow. "You got something to say to me, Seaweed Brain?"
Seaweed brain- Clara recognized that, from the architecture book. And then it hit her. The young man in the video was her father. She watched with renewed interest.
"You'd probably kick my butt."
"You know I'd kick your butt."
"When I was at the river Styx, turning invulnerable...Nico said I had to concentrate on one thing that kept me anchored to the world, that made me want to saty mortal."
"Yeah?
"The up on Olympus when they wanted to make me a god and stuff, I kept thinking-"
"Oh, you so wanted to."
"Well, maybe a little. But I didn't, because I thought - I didn't want things to stay the same for eternity, because things could always get better. and I was thinking..."
"Anyone in particular?" the girl asked, her voice soft.
"Gods, this is barf inducing," muttered a voice.
"Oh, stuff it, Travis," admonished Silena, "it's adorable."
"You're laughing at me," Percy complained.
"I am not!"
"You are so not making this easy."
The girl laughed and put her hands around his neck. "I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it."
And then they kissed.
Silena sighed happily.
Suddenly the pavilion was filled with torchlight and people. A strong looking young women led the party of eavesdroppers.
"No! Clarisse!" Silena shouted hoarsely. "What the hell are you doing! Don't break up their moment!"
The camera shut off.
A new scene began to flicker onto the screen, and Clara hit the pause button. Gods? Olympus? None of this made any sense to her. And saving the world? It was all too strange. And her curiosity was unsatisfied. So she hit the play button again.
This scene showed the same couple as in the first, except it was in the height of daytime, and they were decked out in Greek battle armor. The boy was holding a sword, and the girl was holding a knife which Clara recognized from the 'spot of honor' on the weapons rack behind her. She concluded that her father had a very, very strange childhood.
"And this is Camp Half Blood's newest couple, Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase," the cameraman announced; it was the same cameraman from the last scene.
Percy rolled his eyes. "Do you really have to drag that thing out every day, Grover?"
"It's for posterity," Grover defended. "We need to properly document the heroes of Olympus so that countless more generations of demigods can learn of your deeds."
"How about we just get someone to write a book," Annabeth suggested.
"Book?" Grover said, laughing. "Who actually reads anything these days?"
Annabeth looked offended. And so was Clara, as she watched with labored breath.
"Percy," Grover demanded, "show posterity your sword."
Percy turned to face the camera and drew up into a fighting stance, sword pointed forward.
"I meant the pen thing."
"Oh," Percy said, producing a pen cap and putting it on the tip of his sword. It promptly turned into a pen.
Clara recognized that pen. Her father always had it in his pocket, but he never used it to sign or write anything.
"You know what?" Annabeth asked rhetorically. "Why even bother heading down to the arena. Let's battle for the camera right here." And she struck out at Percy with her knife.
He executed a precise backhand block to protect his back from the knife before turning to face her.
"Watch it, wise girl," Percy said. "I'm invincible, remember." He stabbed himself in the face demonstratively. The tip just bounced off.
Clara's jaw dropped.
"Are you sure you want to get your ass kicked on camera?" he continued.
Annabeth leaned forward. "I know your weak spot," she whispered in his ear.
Clara had seen enough. She pressed stop and abruptly ejected the tape. Then she lay down on the floor, breathing hard. This had to be some project of his, she reasoned. Some movie or spoof he made with his friends during his teen years. Though it did seem odd to have a room dedicated to it, it was certainly the most logical conclusion.
She was sure she'd find support for her conclusion if she had more time, but she heard the sound of her father's car pulling up to the driveway. She frantically dashed to the door, stepped out, closed it, and locked it with the key. She ran to her father's room and put it back in place under the sunken ship in the fish tank.
"Clara, I'm home!" Percy called from downstairs. "I've got fresh strawberries from the farmer's market!"
Clara took a moment to wipe her arm dry on the towel next to the fish tank, and then bounded eagerly down the stairs with a shout of, "strawberries!"
The thought of fresh strawberries caused her to forget a small detail; she had left the flashlight in the strange room.
Geh, I didn't like this chapter either. I'm running out of ideas for this little story. Oh well, I'm determined to finish it.