Chapter Twenty One

Annabeth

"You hungry yet?" I ask Percy and Grover as we drive by yet another fast food restaurant. I can feel myself salivating at the thought of all that greasy, fatty, deliciousness, and I take one of my head phones out in time to listen to their answer. I had been blissfully tuning them out and focusing on my music, until the point that I could hear my stomach over my headphones.

"Are you really asking that question?" Percy teases with a grin on his face. I roll my eyes, remembering more than a few occasions when not only did he scarf down his lunch, but also a large portion of mine as well. It's not as if I'm some dainty little princess either, if I had any choice, I would've eaten my lunch. I have to remember to get him back for stealing all my food, one day.

"I was asking Grover, not you, Seaweed Brain." I scoff, and cross my arms over my chest. Percy turns around so I can see him roll his eyes back at me, and, despite myself, I laugh. I see Grover's grin the rearview mirror. He's still really confused about why I'm helping Percy, as we can't be around each other without either screaming or trying to commit first degree murder, but, lately, he's stopped seeming so concerned about my behavior, and instead acts distinctly smug, as if he knows something I don't. That's a possibility I don't even want to take the time to consider.

"Did you just call him Seaweed Brain?" Grover asks me, sounding a little amused, and a little puzzled. I laugh, and Percy shakes his head, still not happy with his lovely nickname I so generously gave him. He's tried to find one to call me, and failed, obviously. I've been very careful not to give him ammunition. Unlike Luke, he hasn't taken to calling me Annie, which would be very, very strange. Some things will just forever be associated with Luke in my mind.

"Yeah, Annabeth thinks she's funny," Percy grumbles and, when Grover raises an eyebrow, continues to explain. "Her theory is that I've wiped out surfing so many times that my head is now filled with seaweed."

"Actually, it's that you've face planted so many times that seaweed has permanently lodged itself in your skull, and the little remaining brain matter that actually resides in there has dissolved into the general consistency of seaweed." I correct him, and both Grover and Percy roll their eyes. "You were close though," I offer as a consolation. They don't seem to take it that way.

"So, Grover, Food?" Percy asks, oh so subtly changing the subject. I grin at him and stick my tongue out. I don't know how I always end up acting like a three-year old around him, but it's easy to just relax. Few people actually are able to make me relax enough to be immature, and it's still a little weird that Percy's joined their ranks.

"Sure, if you guys are up for it." Grover shrugs, before starting to pull into the exit lane, knowing I wouldn't ask if I wasn't hungry, and Percy's always hungry (insert eye roll here). It's a wonder that boy hasn't gotten fat yet.

…

Pulling into the truck stop, I slide out of the car, and stretch my sore muscles. What is it about that backseat that makes car rides so much more painful? Seriously, when we were younger, Luke usually drove, (he always looked older than he was), Thalia dibbed shot-gun, and me and Grover got wedged in the back along with all the other crap we were driving around.

Percy clumsily stumbles out of Grover's sedan, I ignore the way his eyes follow my movements as I roll my shoulders, and I wait for Grover to get out. As soon as both boys are out of the car, I start off for the truck stop: a mega one with a food court similar to that of a mall's. Sleepy children, truck drivers, college kids suddenly regretting their big road trip, and frazzled adults are stumbling in the same direction as we are, and by habit, I let my hair cover the majority of my face. It's funny how old anxieties stick with you. I still feel as nervous as I did my first time running away with Thalia and Luke. The nerves got exponentially worse when we stopped along the way. I kept imagining someone in the crowd recognizing me, and dragging me back to my father. I know I don't have much to worry about now, but I can't help the fear. Percy seems to notice my discomfort and steps closer as Grover makes a beeline for the vegan enchilada stand.

"You okay," he asks quietly, and with more bravery than I thought he could muster, he tucks my hair behind my ear gently. An unfamiliar sensation follows his touch and I try to force it out of my system. Missing Luke and thinking about him so much must have me truly screwed up. I nod in response to his question and eye my options for food, forcing myself to at least act confident. Percy seems to sense that I'm not in the mood for deep psychoanalysis and starts perusing the different booths with interest.

"I could really go for chili," Percy decides and starts heading for the guy wearing a sombrero and stirring a huge pot. Grabbing his arm, I turn him around and shake my head, slightly panicked at the idea.

"Yeah… no" I shake my head, just imagining the consequences. Percy's expression falls and I almost take it back: the key word in that sentence being almost. Even Percy couldn't talk me into this one.

"Why?" He asks, clearly peeved. I roll my eyes, and cross my arms, before heading toward the sub stand. Percy trails after me like a five-year old begging his mother for sweets. I quickly select a turkey club, deciding I could probably do without the extra calories in a BLT. Despite how delicious bacon would taste, I'm not sure the after effects would be worth the moments of bliss.

"Because I have to be in a car with you for at least the next hour and a half and I'd rather not be gagging the whole time." I hiss, handing a few dollars to the cashier, and taking my tray to find Grover. Percy trails behind me, looking very like Bobby did when I told him Mathew was right and cells are made of atoms, not the other way around. Those two really need to knock it off with the science channel.

"What do you suggest I eat then?" He demands as I sit down, starting in on my food.

"I don't know: something that's not going to make anybody sick, or leave you with bad breath we're all going to have to deal with." I suggest: plopping down on one of those hard cafeteria chairs that just look comfortable, but end up making you long for the backseat. Grover seems like he wants to comment but even he can't get words out around the enchilada he's scarfing down. As soon as Percy's gone, I turn to him with a skeptical expression.

"Please tell me there are no refried beans in that." I beg, and Grover gives me a look that clearly says, "Don't kill me, I was a good boy." I roll my eyes and throw a french-fry at him (hey no bacon, but french-fries seemed like a compromise to me). Moments later, Percy arrives, wielding pizza, and garlic bread. I wonder if banging my head repeatedly against the table would help relieve the ache in my temple.

Noticing my expression, Percy smirks, opening his other hand to show me a pack of mints. As he grins, I'm torn between grinning back and rolling my eyes; so I do both.

Percy

Annabeth leaves the food court at a brisk pace, and sharing a puzzled look with Grover, I follow her out. When I get to the car, I have to hold back a laugh. Glancing at Grover, I see he's completely cracking up. Rolling my eyes, I climb into the back seat, ignoring Annabeth, whose sitting with her arms crossed, a smug expression on her face. Did I mention she stole shotgun?

Once we're on the road, and Annabeth has drifted asleep, I can't ignore my nerves anymore, in about forty-five minutes, I could be meeting my father for the first time.