Chapter 32
Annabeth
Percy might just puke on me. Considering we haven't eaten breakfast yet and I stopped him from buying that one dollar burger from the gas station; I don't think his nausea is purely physical. I've caught him staring at the GPS more than once, and his gaze is completely checked out.
I think I know him well enough that I can guess what he's thinking about. Every mile brings us a a bit closer to finally being able to face his father. Empathy isn't hard to conjure for his situation; I constantly question where I came from, and if I could meet my mother by getting in a car and breaking some rules, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately meeting a deep-beat dad is a little different from meeting a, plain-old, dead mom.
When we make the last turn, and the automated voice announces that we have "Reached Our Destination." I smile a little to myself when I hear her, the twins had named her Helga when they were seven. Percy fumbles, with shaking hands, to open the door. I turn towards Grover, who's turned around to reach for something now that we've stopped. We share a glance right as Percy manages to get his door open. His feet have barely hit the asphalt before Grover and I are slipping out of the car.
The noise startles him, and he raises an eyebrow when he sees us out of the car. During the first two attempts, we waited in the car, and he's probably wondering why we're deciding to join him now. I just shrug nonchalantly, not wanting to sap any of the little confidence he has left at this point. His hands continue shaking, but his shoulders relax from near his ears to only halfway up his neck, which is most definitely a positive sign.
Grover, who doesn't handle confrontation well (at all): is about to leap out of his skin. I've seen videos of m*** addicts who are more relaxed than he is shuffling up the walkway. Maybe our support might've been better in the spiritual sense and not the physical.
I have no idea why Grover's freaking out; the place doesn't seem that scary. It's actually a large warehouse, presumably with a built-in apartment for the owner. The lawn is overflowing with massive stone sculptures. The décor doesn't make much sense, but I can't even hope to make out the curly red cursive on the sign. Percy turns to me expectantly, raising an eyebrow and then gesturing up at the sign.
"I'm just as Dyslexic as you are." I remind him, and he pales, seemingly having forgotten our equal impairment. Grover looks between the two of us and then pinches the bridge of his nose. He sighs, and that's when I notice it, the delicious smell of grilling hamburgers. We've been living off greasy fast food and disgusting bar food for the past few days and I could kill for something more nutritious than the cardboard box a pizza comes in.
Trying to decide the origin of the delectable scent, I glance around, but only spotted the closed down gas station next store. An old billboard still stood, advertising some movie my father was probably obsessed with in the 90's.
"Auntie Em's Garden Emporium," Grover reads off, eyeing us uncertainly. Percy looks positively drunk from the smell emanating from the warehouse. He seems more relaxed than I could've expected; the smell of fresh, real, food as intoxicating to him as it is to me. Grover however, looks positively nauseous. Of course, he's a vegetarian, so he doesn't understand the enticing aroma that is encompassed in delicious home cooked burgers.
Without hesitation, I stride up the path. Percy follows right behind, a little more cautious, but still relaxed. Grover trails after us, and when I glance over my shoulder, I see the look of apprehension on his face. Having first-hand knowledge of how easily he can overreact sometimes, I just roll my eyes. I slowly start to notice more about the stone statues, and start to notice a pattern.
All of them are people, ranging from children, teens, adults and even an adorable elderly couple. I have no idea who would want Grandma and Grandpa presiding over their petunias, but it takes all kinds, right? I laughed a little to myself when I saw a very buff, shirtless stone man. Imagining Helen displaying that in front of the house spurns laughter that's loud enough that Percy raises an eyebrow at me. I just shake my head and grin at him. My wandering gaze lands on Grover, who seems to have left the path and stands frozen in front of one of the statues with its back to us.
His face drains of color, but when he sees me looking, he quickly hurries back to us. He shakes his head at me, and I look back at Percy, who is beautifully oblivious. Grover gives me a look, clearly trying to communicate that everything is as it should be. I just shrug at him and follow Percy onto the porch. While standing on the stoop, another smell catches my attention: warm apple pie and cookies in the oven. Maybe it's shallow, or maybe I'm just a teenage girl primarily motivated by food, but, when Percy knocks on the door, I don't even consider being rational about our situation.
Percy
A woman opens the door, and I can only assume that she's middle-eastern from her veil and black, all encompassing outfit. Her dark skin is highlighted by the light color of her well manicured nails. She reminds me of a pretty young woman turned Grandmother with old age. I can just make out the outline of her head and a blurry outline of hair, but her face is completely hidden.
"Children, why are you here all alone?" I haven't been called a child in about five years, but I swallow nervously, registering for the first time that this woman could easily be my step mother.
"Ma'am, we're sorry to bother you, but we're looking for someone. Can you help us?" Annabeth steps up, her expression soft and charming, and the lady buys it.
"Of course dears, I'd be happy to help you!" I think she might be smiling, but it's almost impossible to tell with the veil. I let out a deep breath, some of the adrenaline leaving me.
"You look positively famished, would you like to come in and have something to eat?" I nod eagerly along with Annabeth. When the woman turns and gestures us in through the door, Annabeth grins at me eagerly. Grover reluctantly shuffles behind us, muttering something about wolves and sheep.
A/N: Hey, sorry guys I know I'm late, this has no been edited by my fabulous beta.
I'm guessing most of you have figured out what my little surprise by now, and I wanted to say that I pulled a lot of details from TLF for this chapter, I make no claim over Rick Roirdan's fabulous work. Dd I surprise anyone with my guest star?