I must off dozed off because the next thing I knew, Paul was shaking my shoulder telling me dinner was ready.

I got up and nausea washed over me.

"Percy, are you okay?" he asked concerned. I nodded.

"I'm fine. I just got up too fast." I said reaching over to pick up my glass of salt water. I took a drink and Paul got even more concerned.

"Is that the salt water your mom brought you?"

"No." I lied, setting my glass down. "Just plain water from my canteen."

"Okay," he said uncertainly, "come on, it's time for dinner."

I followed him to the dinner table where my mom was setting out chicken and blue mashed potatoes.

When we all had served ourselves, we went through the daily small talk. How was school? How was work? What are your plans this weekend? Thankfully, nobody brought up the baseball bat incident.

Paul got on the subject of my class period. He ranted about how the early period treats him. I cut in with remarks about my peers. Mom just laughed once in a while. Eventually he got on the subject of the papers he has to grade this weekend.

"That reminds me, Percy," He got up and walked over to the coffee table. "Your paper is a little… odd." He handed me my poorly written essay.

I looked at it. After getting my dyslexic brain use to the page, I realized what he meant. I wasn't paying attention to what I was writing and ended up using three languages.

Ironically, my essay was a one sided debate on why it's easier to write in English than to read English. My first sentence wasn't even in English.

Ως δυσλεξία, έχω την αίσθηση ότι η αγγλική γλώσσα, multo facilius quam scribere iussit.

Translation: As a dyslexic, I feel that the English language (-Greek) (Latin -) is far easier to write than to read.

I felt m ears turn pink as I looked at my essay. "I'll rewrite it for you," I began, but Paul cut me off.

"I want to know why it's not English first." I nodded slowly.

"I was really tired when I was writing it… and I guess I wasn't paying attention when I was writing it."

"That's still doesn't explain why half of it is in Greek and Latin!" He was yelling now, something he never does. Paul had finally cracked from all the secrets my mom and I were keeping.

I tried to give an explanation, but he started pressing me with harder questions. He brought up the incident and my moodiness lately, my constant ER trips and a lot more. He kept raising his voice ignoring my mom's pleas for him to stop.

I was trying to stay calm, but my temper was really short. Thanks dad.

I felt a tugging sensation in my gut, and the kitchen sink started spraying everywhere. Paul and my mom turned around in shock.

Paul looked surprised and angry, mom looked worried. I began shouting things that made absolutely no sense to Paul. Things like, "You don't know what I'm going through!", "I feel like the sky is still on my shoulders!", and "I'm probably going to die in less than a year!"

I stormed out of the apartment crying, but still furious. I took the stairs to the lobby and stomped out of the building into the cold night of New York with nothing but the clothes on my back and Riptide.

PAUL POV

"Paul," Sally began, "that was out of line!" I looked down at my plate.

"I- I know. I'm sorry, I just… I feel like you guys are hiding something from me and, I exploded." Sally looked down at her plate.

"Well, we are… but it's about Percy and his life. I'd tell you, but that's his job." I nodded. Its Percy's secret to tell, not Sally's. I felt bad, so I made a move towards the door.

"I'll go find him." I said but Sally stopped me.

"Don't. Percy will be fine. He just needs to blow off some steam."

"Sally, Percy is out alone in New York City at night. He doesn't even have a coat."

"He'll be fine!"

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

Silence setteled over us for the rest of the night. We cleared the table, put everything in the dishwasher, and went straight to bed.