Chapter Twenty Four

Percy

There's something about driving, even when you're not the one driving that just completely drains a person of all energy. Annabeth slid into the driver's seat and kicked Grover into the back so he could get a little rest. I was a little surprised when she also kept the door to shoot gun open and gave me a pointed look to get in.

I toss a glance over my shoulder and see Grover slumped against the window. I smile a little; the poor guy drove almost all day. It's barely even noon and once again I'm feeling the drowsy effects of the road. Annabeth doesn't seem fazed in the slightest: her fingers are drumming on the wheel, with absolutely no rhythm of course. Musician she is not. Not that I'm one to judge on that front, I failed the recorder in second grade. That could be because I was fascinated by the mole right above my music teacher's lip and not on what she was saying, though.

Annabeth's fidgeting had nothing to do with a rhythm or music, more like… tension. She reaches up and twirls her finger through a curl in her hair, before flicking through the stations on Grover's car radio. Finally she settles on a station, and I have to withhold a grimace when I hear it sounds disturbingly like Mozart. She rolls her shoulders as I watch her, and then arches her back. When I realize how closely I'm watching her, I rip my gaze away, a little regretfully, and focus on the traffic crawling along. It would've only been two hours to get to the next "possibility", but it's already been four and a half hours, and with the way this traffic is crawling along, it could be hours still before we actually get there. Grover's GPS isn't helping much, since our speed is now zero to one mph and our ETA is three years from now.

We've sat in tense silence for the last few hours, as both Annabeth and I have been squirming and fidgeting nearly non-stop. ADHD's bothersome enough when you're trying to drive, let alone in gridlocked traffic like this, a few times driving with my mom for practice, and I could barely remain focus, I can't imagine how close Annabeth is to exploding right now.

"What are you thinking?" I blurt, shattering the anxious silence with all the tact of a two-year old elephant. Annabeth stiffens, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. She takes one hand off the wheel and tucks an individual curl of hair behind her ear. Her lower lip catches under her teeth as she worries away at it. Finally, her shoulders relax and she releases her lip, which I hate to say I'm entranced by.

"I'm thinking about…." She sighs a little before continuing. "Something that happened when I was younger." I try not to get irritated by her avoidance, I mean I know she doesn't have to tell me. Not that I wouldn't want her too, it's just, I don't know if she will.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, hating how "Dr. Phil" I sound. I genuinely have absolutely no idea how to talk to her. Normally, I'm not exactly eloquent but I can get through the average conversation without too much bumbling. With Annabeth, that seems almost impossible. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Annabeth's shoulders tighten again, before she forces them to relax.

"I'm not sure." She finally admits, after a moment's hesitation. "This just reminds me of something I did with Grover, Luke, and um..." I can see she's torn for a moment. "Thalia." The name passes her lips like it hurts. I have a crazy urge to reach out and take her hand in mine, before I realize how idiotic I'd look if she didn't want me touching her. Not that she had many complaints last night, but last night… I don't know, it was different, it felt like a break from reality of something just as surreal. I'm still not sure where the boundaries lie. I can still feel her silky skin from when I brushed away that tear. I hated that I made her cry, but I was amazed that she trusted me like that. I remember Thalia from Grover's stories, but I want to hear more about that time, from Annabeth. I want to know she trusts me; I want that so much it's driving me crazy, but I won't push her, especially not now.

"Look, I don't know how long we're gonna be stuck in this traffic, and it might be a while before we get there." She tells me, gesturing towards the GPS attached to the dashboard. I nod, struck by how easy it was for me to forget we're searching for my birth father.

…

We pulled up to the front of the little cape house with a white picket fence and I came this close to puking my guts out. Some of it was nerves, but some of it was how painfully, cute suburban family cute, it was. It even had pink shutters, a clearly feminine touch. That must mean he remarried, someone replaced my mom: the rotten two-faced swine. I practically shredded the leather on the arm of Grover's car seat, digging into the fabric as we pulled up. He's awake now, and clearly anxious about my reaction. He should be, because I'm almost bursting from the seams with unadulterated rage. That...man is not allowed to live in some perfect Barbie doll house while my mother and I move from crappy apartment to crappy apartment while she works dead-end jobs for practically no money.

I fling the door open, ignoring Annabeth's murmur for me to wait and cool down for a moment. I scramble around the car and angrily fling open the sickening gate. There are perfectly paced little rows of flowers all the way up the perfect yellow stone walkway, to the spotless white porch, with a rocking chair and table beside it. I step up to the pink door, a horrific, pageant princess pink, and knock, unable to knock angrily on the pretty pink door: it would just be too weird. The white lace curtain moves away from the window and a little boy peaks his head out, his dark skin being the first thing I notice. That's a little strange, my father definitely wasn't African-American, and unless the woman he remarried was…

The door flies open and a man, probably in his late twenties, opens up the door. His face is overjoyed until he sees me. I quickly take in the gelled up brown hair with blonde streaks as well as the pale skin tone, and the …eye liner. I look down and see the pressed suit he's standing in, with a flower in the lapel.

"I'm sorry, I was waiting for my partner to get home for date night, how may I help you, young man?" He asks me smiling warmly, and I finally swallow and start to speak.

"Perseus James?" I ask, my voice coming out higher than it should.

"That's me, who wants to know?" He repeats, still all bubbly and warm.

"You wouldn't happen to remember a woman named Sally Jackson would you?" I ask, still staring at the ridiculous pink flower. I definitely would not be caught dead wearing that by choice and when I look down I notice his suit is pressed nicely and strangely fashionable looking.

"Can't say I do" He shrugs, and I'm about to say something else when a pink convertible buggy pulls up to the curve and another man steps out, about the same age as Perseus, and positively frolics through the gate and up to the step. "Allow me to introduce my partner and love of my life." As if I'm not even standing there, they wrap their arms around each other and start kissing,and not chaste little polite kissing either, full on disgusting making out kissing, I look away pointedly, a little overwhelmed. Finally they break apart, and I notice the teal blue flower in the second man's lapel. "We were high school sweet hearts you know." Perseus confides and I nods.

"I'm sorry, I was looking for someone…. And you're clearly not him, I'll just go then." I stutter, and frantically stride back to the car, trying not to start running.

"I hope you find him." Perseus's "partner" calls out. I wave gratefully and hurriedly get back into the car.

"So I'm guessing that wasn't your father?" Annabeth asks, her eyes trained on the road as she pulls out but she's biting her lip to keep from laughing out loud. Grover was composed, but after Annabeth's comment, he breaks out into loud guffaws. I put my suddenly warm face in my hands and cover my eyes, as Annabeth bursts into laughter.

"Can we not talk about it?" I ask and grab the GPS, plugging in the next address. My response only makes them laugh harder and my face hotter. Why oh why must it be me?