"You've gotten taller," Poseidon said, looking Percy up and down. Something about that, calling to attention the distance between them, rubbed Percy the wrong way. He had thought for so long about this moment, when his dad would finally acknowledge he had been wrong, clear Percy's name, tell him he was sorry, but now that it was finally here, Percy's stomach was in knots. He wasn't ready to face his father.

But here he was.

Poseidon cleared his throat, shuffling his flip-flopped feet. It was too chilly for Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, but that didn't seem to matter to the sea god. Percy waited, palms clammy, heart pounding, for his father to get to the point. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"Listen," he said finally, "I know what you've been up to. Azaes told me everything."

Percy's momentary panic was replaced by a wave of relief. His father looked at him with kind eyes, his smile lines crinkling.

"Percy, I never doubted you," he said gently, breaking into a soft smile.

Percy blinked rapidly, conflicted. That's what he wanted to hear, but it wasn't true.

His father was waiting for him to say something, so he cleared the scratchiness out of his throat and tried to steady his voice. "I'm not a traitor."

"I know, son, I know," Poseidon said, kneeling down to speak eye-to-eye with Percy. "I know you don't believe it, but I always knew that." Percy stared wordlessly into his father's eyes, his face hard. "Look, I don't expect you to understand. There's so much history between us on Olympus–all of history, in fact," the sea god continued. "I know them like I know myself. And with everything going on, especially the prophecy, if something were to happen to Zeus's daughter, I just knew they would want me to kill you. People have been punished much worse for much less. I did the only thing I could think of to spare you from that."

Percy could no longer look at his father's face, casting his eyes to the sand, clenching his jaw so tightly he thought his teeth would snap. He would not let his father see him get emotional, damn it.

"And look, you're still here," his father said, and Percy could hear the smile in his voice. "It must seem insane, the things we do, and the lengths we go to. The political complexities of immortal godhood are too intricate to explain. But I didn't worry because knew you would prove yourself, Percy. I know you; you're so much like me. I never doubted."

Percy looked up, his hard façade melting away. Seeing this, Poseidon's eyes glistened, and he placed a reassuring hand on Percy's shoulder.

"We found several real traitors in our ranks because of you," he said proudly. "When you told Azaes that Oceanus is turning people to his side, I conducted a full investigation of my armies. The Cyclopes are forging new weapons for war as we speak. You may have helped save my kingdom, son."

Percy couldn't help it; he let a smile slip past his defenses. Even though the air was cold, it felt warm here on the beach with his dad, listening to him tell him he was proud. He didn't know how much he had craved hearing that until he did.

"I've been rallying people to your side all along the New York coast," he said, his voice thick. "Every good thing I do, I do in your name."

Poseidon beamed at him, his smile warm and inviting. "Good, son." Percy somehow felt both powerful and fragile at the same time, like a bomb with a lit fuse. His father's face grew serious, and he looked at Percy with urgency. "I need your help again, Percy."

Percy nodded soberly, willing to do anything to prove himself.

"I need to find his daughter," he said. "This is very important: has she tried to contact you since August?"

Percy felt his high come crashing down.Right, that.

"I'm sorry," he said, choosing his words carefully, "but I think she hates me now."

He wasn't sure, but Poseidon seemed somewhat displeased. "Do you have any idea where she might be?"

Heart racing, Percy pretended to think hard. "Um, I had a dream back in August," he said, trying not to sound like his pulse was racing. "Her father exiled her to Russia. So, maybe Russia?"

Poseidon gazed critically into Percy's eyes as if examining his soul. Percy forced himself not to drop his gaze, feeling like he was going to combust at any second. Finally, Poseidon said, "Did he say anything else?"

Percy shook his head.

"Really think, Percy."

Percy's left eye twitched. "Um, he said he didn't approve of us," he said stupidly.

His father's intensity waned, replaced by tepid amusement. "Well, she could do a lot worse, that's for sure." Poseidon stood up, wiping the sand off his leg. "If you remember anything, or hear anything, let me know immediately."

Percy nodded, and Poseidon disappeared his fishing gear with a snap of his fingers. Percy was suddenly worried he would leave without addressing the mark. He didn't want to have to be the one to bring it up, but he forced himself to say, "Um, lord? Father?"

Poseidon tilted his head quizzically. "Yes, Percy?"

Percy gulped. "What about…" He looked down at his chest, questioning how he wanted to frame this question, but Poseidon seemed to understand.

Poseidon blinked. "Of course, son," he said jovially, and Percy relaxed. "Silly me! Here, let me see." Poseidon gingerly reached a finger toward Percy's chest, and every muscle in the young demigod's body tensed, but he stood like a statue and allowed it to happen. Poseidon lightly touched the mark, then closed his eyes. After he opened them, Percy looked down his shirt. No change.

After a couple more tries, Poseidon let out a weary sigh.

"I was afraid of this," he said. Percy's heart sank. "I've never had to undo this punishment before. I'm afraid I don't think that's within my power."

Percy's stomach dropped. "What? Seriously?"

"Understand, son, this is unprecedented. We're in never-before-seen territory here. But I promise, I'll do everything I can to make this right," his father said. "You are a hero, not a criminal. And, for what it's worth, everyone in the sea and on Olympus knows that now. Your conviction has been dropped; you're a free man."

Percy tried to swallow his bitter disappointment and at least take solace in the fact that his name had been cleared. He wondered if, now, his father might even ask him to help him defend his kingdom.

"Maybe I could go back down to the palace,' Percy ventured cautiously. "Perhaps Triton can fix it."

His father frowned. "If I can't do it, then Triton certainly can't."

"Or won't," Percy couldn't help but mutter under his breath.

"Now, listen," his father said, making Percy's heart jump, "don't think that we're cruel on account of your punishment. We're not as backwards as we may seem to your twenty-first century sensibilities."

"Oh, I didn't–"

"The traitor's mark has fallen out of vogue for a long time, anyway. I'm not a cruel man. Almost no one receives it anymore; you were the first in a long time."

Percy's face froze. The air felt cold again, and he was struck by how dim the sky seemed in that moment.

"And that was a fluke, an outlier. But trust me, I'm going to make it right," Poseidon continued, giving Percy an encouraging smile. "I'm sure Apollo will know what to do. Be on the lookout for him."

Percy nodded. "Thank you," he said stoically.

The wind picked up around them, and Poseidon's hair whipped in the breeze.

"Keep up the good work, Percy, and you'll be rewarded," he said with a twinkle in his eye, disappearing in a cloud of bubbles and leaving Percy feeling unmoored.

He stewed in brooding silence all evening long. Annabeth and Thalia seemed to be in similar moods, and he didn't ask why. The three sat together in terse quietness at the bonfire sing-a-long, mumbling the words and avoiding each other's eyes. Part of him wished he could confide in Annabeth what was going on, but he knew he couldn't. He tried to push his anxious thoughts away, but he kept going back to his father telling him he was the first person to receive the mark in a long time. Maybe he was misunderstanding, or maybe his father's definition of a long time was different than his. It was probably nothing. But something about it nagged at the back of Percy's brain.

He tossed and turned in bed in his cabin, trying desperately to escape the question that replayed over and over again in his mind.

Is he lying to me? Is he lying to me? Is he lying to me?

He turned onto his stomach, pulling his pillow over his head and beating it with his fist. He wanted to scream. He wanted to claw the mark out of his own skin. He wanted to envelope himself in a swirling cyclone of water and destroy something. He had gone from feeling so positive, so hopeful, to feeling more unsure and untethered than ever.

He was interrupted from his dark thoughts by the sound of his cabin door stealthily opening. In a flash, he sprang to his feet, his covers on the floor, sword drawn in hand. The intruder groaned and closed the door quietly behind her.

"I was hoping you'd be asleep," Thalia said.

He hung his head in exasperation. "Not this again," he muttered.

"Don't worry, I won't stay," she said bitterly, striding toward the far corner of the room. Kneeling on the ground, she pried up one of the floorboards under one of the beds and pulled out two bottles of gin.

His jaw dropped. "You hid ALCOHOL in my cabin?" he whisper-shouted.

She held her hands up. "Well, I couldn't hide it in my cabin," she said. "What if they found it?"

Percy rested his face in his free hand and took a deep breath, then capped his sword. She held out one of the bottles to him.

"Are you going to let me buy your silence or what?"

He stared at the liquor, looking as refreshing as water right about now, and felt something snap in him.

"As a matter of fact, yeah," he said, "give me that."

Thalia had stashed shot glasses in her coat pockets, and the two of them took the first couple of shots in silence. After a few minutes of letting the liquor settle, she started to loosen up, and Percy found himself fascinated by how much worse she handled her liquor than him. He didn't even feel tipsy yet.

"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?" he finally said.

She scowled. "Shut up. That's none–"

"Of my business?" he cut in. "If you drink about it with me in my cabin, it becomes my business. Those are the rules."

Glowering, she poured another shot and pounded it back. He did the same.

She pursed her lips for a long moment, then said, "So, you've heard from your dad, huh?"

"Uh, yeah, like I said."

She smirked into her empty shot glass. "Must be nice."

He chuckled darkly under his breath. "It's not, actually."

"But at least it's something," she said, misery seeping into her voice. Hesitatingly, she raised the bottle to her lips, then took a sip straight from it.

Okay, I guess we're drunk already, he thought.

She looked at him and shook her head in contempt. "You know, I thought we were the same," she said, slurring ever so slightly, "but I guess I was wrong."

"What are you talking about?" he said.

"Your dad talks to you," she said, and for once, she actually seemed jealous of something. "He confided in you. Do you know how much I would kill for that?"

He felt indignation stirring in his chest. "It's not what you think," he said bitterly.

"Annabeth was right," Thalia said, ignoring Percy completely. He wasn't sure what she meant, but he was pretty sure he resented it. "My father won't even acknowledge me. He would never tell me about what's going on with him."

"Honestly, it's probably better that way," he said, taking a sip from his own bottle. "They're not exactly the warmest guys, our fathers."

"Oh, shut up," she snapped. "You don't actually think it's better to be fucking ignored. Don't pity me."

"I'm not!" he protested. "And yeah, maybe some things are worse than being ignored."

She shook her head, scoffing. "You don't get it. You just don't get it." She paced around his cabin a few times, and Percy noticed with scorn how she couldn't keep a straight line. "You have no idea what it's like for us whose fathers actually don't give a shit," she said finally, seething. "Luke was driven away because of it. It eats a person up inside. You have no idea."

All it took was one mention of Luke's name to make Percy see red. "Oh, give me a fucking break," he said, stopping her in her tracks. "You're just like Luke was. You and Luke act like you invented father issues, and no one on earth could ever possibly understand your shit because it's so fucking deep or whatever. Well, guess what? Your problems are not unique. You're just fucking unstable." He realized he had started shouting and clamped his mouth shut. She was staring at him like he had slapped her across the face. He knew he had probably gone too far, but honestly, he didn't regret it. In a sick way, it actually felt kind of good to shout. Part of him wanted to keep going.

"Oh, I'm fucking unstable?" she repeated, her voice menacingly calm. He wished she would just shout back, like Anastasia would.

He crossed his arms, unsettled. "I mean, you're the one breaking into people's cabins to drown in gin," he said, trying to match her tone.

She nodded, sticking her tongue in her cheek. "Maybe I am unstable," she said, as if it were a challenge. "You have no idea how unstable I can be."

"Thalia."

"No, it's fine. I can be unstable. I'd love to let myself be un-fucking-stable."

He winced. "Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did." She took a swig of gin and coughed it down. "And you know what? Maybe I am. I don't like being in my fucking head anymore." She plopped down on the nearest bed and leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. Percy took a step toward her, then paused. Her shoulders started shaking, and she buried her face in her hands.

Oh, fuck.

"I don't want to do this anymore," she whispered, her body wracked by silent sobs. "I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this."

Percy wasn't sure what "this" was, but his mind came up with some pretty dark answers. He set the bottle down and knelt beside her, placing a hand on her knee, not caring about their fight anymore. He expected her to shove him away, but she didn't even react.

"You can't say things like that," he whispered fervently. "You can't give up."

She sniffed and sat up, turning her face away from Percy. "I don't want to give up," she said gloomily, "but I don't want to keep going like this either."

"We need you, Thalia," he said.

Her hands balled into fists. "Everyone needs me. I know."

That, he understood. There was a lot riding on her as the child of the Great Prophecy, and the pressure was enough to make a person feel like crumbling. The only way out was to not reach sixteen.

"No, just me and Annabeth," he said. "Your friends. We need you, Thalia. You can't…" He hesitated. "You can't leave us."

She finally looked at him, looking torn. He had never seen her seem so lost, so scared.

Eventually, she said, "I know," her voice laced with resignation. He didn't really feel satisfied with that, but he didn't want to press too hard, either. They sat in uncomfortable silence for what felt like a long time.

She finally left without another word, Percy cursing himself for not doing more. He wished he had the magic words to fix Thalia. He wished he weren't still plagued by doubts about his own father. He wished he were actually drunk right now.

He realized she had forgotten her gin, and he knew what he wanted to do.

"What does it mean," he said in the cave minutes later, nursing what little was left of his gin. "Am I crazy? Or is that…"

"No, it's definitely suspicious," Anastasia said, taking a swig of Thalia's gin. "I mean, you saw the labor camp."

"But 'a long time' could mean anything, really," he said, pacing. "I mean, for all I know, it's been years, maybe even decades since the last time."

"Wasn't one of those kids your age, though?"

He called to mind the memory of that boy, branded on his chest, staring straight at Percy, and his stomach lurched. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, not wanting it to be true. "Oh, fuck, it was a fucking lie."

She swung the bottle between her fingers. "I feel like the whole conversation he had with you was one big lie," she said. "I mean, he very clearly did doubt you."

He tangled one of his hands in his hair. "I don't know," he moaned, "I could see it either way. I mean, I think he did doubt me, but I also think he thought he was doing what he had to do to spare my life. The punishment needed to be severe to keep the other gods from wanting him to kill me, and that would buy me enough time to clear my name. I think it makes sense."

She furrowed her brow. "Does it?" He stopped pacing and covered his face with his hands. She went on, "Don't let him manipulate you. He didn't think he could undo the mark once it had been done. He knew the damage would be permanent. He wasn't waiting for you to clear your name."

"No, I think he wasn't sure," he said. "But–it all happened so fast–maybe it was all he could do."

She sighed wearily. "Jackson…"

"Maybe he only lied about the mark because he didn't want me to think he was cruel," he said. "With my 'twenty-first century sensibilities' or whatever. Like, maybe he was insecure."

"Or maybe he didn't want to lose your blind support."

"It's not blind," he snapped at her. "I know exactly what I'm doing. I know he's not perfect–better than anyone. I'm choosing the better option here, the one that can actually improve."

"Uh-huh."

"And he is still my dad, after all."

She rolled her eyes. "And, there it is."

"I'm not being naïve," he protested. "I just think that matters for something."

"It shouldn't," she said. "I just think if you make excuses for them because they're family, then you end up letting them get away with really bad shit, and that's the side you end up on."

He crossed his arms. "Well, I can acknowledge the good and the bad in him and denounce the bad and still be on his side at the end of the day," he said. "It doesn't mean I'm turning a blind eye."

She shook her head. "I still think that's just you telling yourself whatever will make you feel better."

He was getting uncomfortable, but something about someone bluntly arguing with him without hiding the ball was better than just beating around the bush. It was more cathartic this way.

"Well, maybe you're just too pessimistic," he said. "You always think everyone is doomed all the time. You only see the worst in people."

"Oh, come on," she protested, "are you honestly on board with corporal punishment?"

"Well, of course not," he said defensively, "especially not branding. But that doesn't mean my father is beyond all hope."

"But serving him and defending his kingdom is the same as defending his practices," she insisted. "You're defending the status quo."

"No, I'm fighting for a future that can improve. That's the opposite of defending the status quo."

"He is fucking immortal!" she exploded, waving her hands in the air. "He cannot fucking change!"

He yelled back, "You don't fucking know that–"

"Yes, I do! Immortals don't have the same stakes we do. They have no incentive to grow. When are you going to get that through your idiotic head?"

"Hey, just because you've given up on your shitty father," he growled, "doesn't mean I have to do the same."

Her eyes flashed. "This isn't about my father–"

"I think it is. I think you're lashing out at me because you're jealous there's more hope for my dad than yours."

He felt adrenaline coursing through their veins. He drank it in.

"I don't have to sit here and take this from you," she seethed, marching toward the nearest lake.

"Hey, where are you going?" He followed after her. "Don't run away from me!"

"Leave me ALONE," she warned, melting into the water. He pulled his shirt off and followed her, materializing a moment after her in their secret clearing and grabbing her by the arm. She glared at him with murder in her eyes.

"You always do this," he said. "You can't handle being challenged."

"I'm not obligated to stay and argue with you when you're being a dick," she said. "You're not the boss of me."

He scoffed. "As if you don't make it your personal mission to be a dick all the fucking time! All you ever do is try to get under my skin."

"And what about it? I'm part Siren, Jackoff. It's in my nature. What's your excuse?"

"You're unbelievable."

She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and hissed at him. Faintly, he heard a soft gasp. The two of them whipped their heads toward the thick, twisted barrier of charred trees and were startled to see a teenage dryad sitting on the ground, marveling at them with her jaw hung open, tears streaking her face.

They froze. Their hearts seemed to pound in slow motion as one.

What the fuck do we do, he thought.

Anastasia glanced at his bare chest, the mark barely covered by water, then back to the girl. Percy could see in the demi-titan's face, and she could see in his, that they both had guilt written all across their features. This wasn't good.

"Who are you?" Anastasia finally said.

The dryad sniffled, looking back and forth between their faces. "My name's Juniper."

~.

Percy and Anastasia were completely baffled.

"So, all the dryads know?" he asked, screwing up his forehead in thought, sitting now fully clothed on the dirty forest floor.

"Know who you are? Or know what you've done?" Juniper replied.

"Um," he floundered, sharing a glance with Anastasia, "both?"

The tree shrugged. "The dryads know everyone. We see everything."

Of course, he thought.

"Didn't that naiad say the same thing to you?" Anastasia asked. She turned to Juniper. "Do you dryads ever talk to the naiads?"

Juniper seemed taken aback, as if the question were too obvious. "Well, of course."

Together, Percy and Anastasia nodded.

Juniper sniffed again, wiping her nose on her arm. "Lately, they've been talking a lot about Percy Jackson."

"Really?" he said, more than a little annoyed. He didn't like being the topic of conversation, especially this kind of conversation.

"Don't worry too much about it, it's just gossip," she assured him sweetly. "They'll move on to the next thing. Especially now that you've gone from a criminal to a hero."

"You've seriously already heard about that?" Anastasia balked.

Juniper blinked. "I heard them talking about it in the creek this morning. Word travels fast by water."

Percy and Anastasia shared another knowing look.

Hesitatingly, Percy asked, "You guys aren't going to tell any of the campers about that, are you?"

Juniper laughed a little under her breath. "Percy Jackson, I doubt any of us will ever talk about it, period. This isn't really interesting to us–no offense. It's just naiad drama."

Nodding, he glanced at Anastasia. She cleared her throat.

"So, listen…Juniper, is it?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Stacy," Percy jumped in, grinning wickedly. "You can call her Stacy."

"No!" she shouted. "Do not call me that."

Juniper flinched. "Sorry!" she said, her voice pouty and fragile. Anastasia instantly felt bad.

"Oh no, it's not your fault," she said, "I was talking to him." She shifted to sit on her knees directly in front of Juniper. "Who I am is actually a very good question: it is crucial that you do not know, and you tell no one that you saw me here."

Juniper's eyes grew wide. "I'm sorry, I don't want any trouble," she said, her voice trembling. "I only came here to–to cry. I've had a really bad day." She wiped the tears from her face, which had started to flow again. "No one knows about this place, so I didn't think there would be anybody here. I'm so sorry. I don't know anything, please, don't hurt me!"

Percy felt like he had been stabbed in the heart. He and Anastasia looked at each other in silent conversation. They were on the same page, for once, but neither were very good at being comforting. After several seconds of intense argument, Percy relented.

"Don't be sorry, don't be sad," he said as gently as he could. "It's okay! We're not going to hurt you."

"I'll never tell a soul," she said fervently. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what? We're not mad." He awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. "There, there. This is your space, we're the ones intruding."

She shook her head. "It's not my space, I'm just the only person who comes here. Sometimes, I just want to get away. I don't have many friends."

"Well, we'll be your friends," Percy said.

She shook her head, as if that were funny. "You don't want to be friends with a little old tree."

"Of course I do," he protested. "My best friend in the world is a satyr."

Juniper looked at him curiously. "That's funny," she said, but it didn't seem like she meant funny as in "humorous."

"Well, he's always been there for me, and he's a good person," Percy said. "I bet you'd like him."

Juniper looked at the ground in amazement, taking it all in. "Percy Jackson wants to be my friend," she said.

"And Stacy, here," he added, nudging Anastasia.

"Anastasia," she corrected in her thick Russian accent.

"Right, sure," he said with a shit-eating grin. "She doesn't have any friends either."You two are perfect for each other.

"Please ignore him, he's being a dick tonight," Anastasia said to Juniper, moving to sit beside her and put her arm around her shoulders. "Have you heard my name before, Juniper?"

Juniper shook her head innocently.

"Have you figured out who I am yet?"

The dryad studied Anastasia's face, then looked back and forth between her and Percy. They could see the wheels turning in her head.

"Oh, gods," she whispered. "So it was true all along."

Percy frowned. "Uh, what part? Because the part about us dating was very much never true."

Juniper pointed back and forth between them. "But–you're together–"

"No, not because we like each other," he said. "It's a long story."

"Let me tell it!" Anastasia pounced, reminding him mentally of his oaths. "I'm a much better storyteller anyway. I can nail every role," she said, flipping her hair. She took one of Juniper's hands in hers. "But, Junie, listen: if you're our friend, then you have to swear to us to keep all our secrets."

Juniper sniffed. "I'm great at keeping secrets. I don't talk to anyone anyways."

"We need you to swear it, though," she said. "On the river Styx."

Juniper looked concerned.

"We're not up to anything bad," Percy said hastily. "We just don't want to get into any more trouble for misunderstandings. I promise, when we explain everything, it'll all make sense."

Juniper considered, then slowly nodded. "Okay. I swear on the river Styx to keep your secrets."

Percy and Anastasia grinned at each other, a wave of relief crashing over them.

"Perfect," Anastasia purred. "Now, let's start at the beginning."

~.

By the time Percy made it back to his cabin, it was early in the A.M. Anastasia and Juniper were still deeply engrossed in conversation when he left, but he felt too tired to continue, and he started to want to be alone again. Still, despite being exhausted, his body woke him up at the crack of dawn, to his chagrin. He tossed and turned in his bed, refusing to get up, until he remembered that Annabeth would be leaving this morning. He hastily threw on clothes and ran out the door–almost smack dab into Annabeth herself.

She let out a yelp and jumped backwards, her face turning beet red. "Oh, my bad."

He looked curiously at her, then behind him toward his cabin. "Were you–going to–"

"I was just coming to say goodbye," she said quickly. "I didn't think you'd be up this early."

"Oh. Well, I am."

They stood awkwardly on the steps, looking anywhere but each other's eyes. Percy's brain still felt slow from sleep.

"Um, what time's your flight?" he asked.

"10:45. I'm pre-checked, though."

"Oh, nice." He noticed she was wearing more comfortable clothes today–loose sweatpants and a West Point sweatshirt. For some reason, that made him less nervous. "Do you need any help with your bags?"

"Argus has already loaded my duffel in the car," she said. "All I've got left is my backpack."

"Cool." Her hair was pulled back, but a couple of strands around her face were loose and flowing in the slight breeze. He tried to think of something else to say. Why was his mind so blank?

She shuffled her feet. "Well, I should get going. I just wanted to say bye."

"Can I walk you out?"

She nodded, and the two ambled slowly toward Half-Blood Hill, taking their time. He tried not to be obvious, but he kept sneaking glances at the way her loose strands of curls framed her face. The chill breeze brought a bit of color to her cheeks, making her look radiant. He wished things didn't feel awkward between them.

Thalia was already waiting at the crest of the hill with Annabeth's backpack, leaning against her tree. She gave a small, one-sided grin when she saw them, sauntering over to hug Annabeth.

"I can't believe you're leaving me," she said teasingly, but Percy thought he detected a trace of sincerity underneath.

"I'll be back before you know it," Annabeth said.

Thalia handed her the bag. "Do you have everything you need?"

"I'm pretty sure," Annabeth said, opening the backpack and rifling through it. Suddenly, her head snapped up.

"Crap, I forgot my hat," she groaned. "Be right back!"

Percy watched her sprint off toward the cabins, then turned sheepishly back to Thalia. All of the friendliness had drained from her face. She glared at the ground, and the two stood in silence for a long time.

Finally, she crossed her arms, and Percy braced himself to be threatened or cursed out.

"Listen, I'm only going to say this once," she said sharply. "Thank you."

He drew back in surprise. "Wait, what?"

She huffed. "I said I was only going to say it once. And–I'm sorry. Again."

He blinked. "Don't worry about it," he said, thrown, "that's what friends are for."

She scrunched her face up, as if she were trying to force words out. "You're a good friend, Percy."

He cracked a slight grin. "You know, if you need a place to go for Thanksgiving, you're welcome to spend it with me and my mom."

She shook her head. "Nah, I think I'm just going to keep Chiron company. But, uh, thanks."

"Well, maybe Christmas." He looked behind him, but the coast was clear. "Hey, as your good friend, can I ask you for some advice really quick?"

She arched an eyebrow. "About what?"

He rocked back and forth on his heels. Saying it was harder than he thought. "Is Annabeth…upset with me?"

She nodded to herself, understanding spreading over her face. "Oh, Seaweed Brain. Your stupidity can be so adorable, sometimes."

"Okay, if you're going to be condescending about it–"

"No need to get defensive," she said with a sly grin. "No, not really."

"Not really?"

Thalia chuckled. "Okay, look, you want my advice? Say what you're thinking more. Don't be so weird and closed off. Actually, you know, compliment her."

"I do compliment her," he said, crossing his arms.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay." She looked behind him, prompting him to check again, but he saw no sign of Annabeth. "I'm just saying," Thalia continued, "would it kill you to tell her she looks pretty from time to time?"

Percy's face grew hot. "Does–does she want me to tell her she looks pretty?"

Thalia shrugged. "I don't know. I would."

"Do…you want me to call you pretty?"

"No, Jackson," she said, facepalming. "Forget it, you're hopeless."

"Yeah, probably," he agreed, and Thalia snorted.

"Just tell me this," she said, "what do you want?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "I just want to spend more time with her," he said sheepishly. "I feel like I never get to. I miss her, sometimes."

Thalia's eyes flashed. She pressed her lips together in a smile.

"You cannot tell her that," he said firmly.

"Sure, sure," she said, clearly restraining laughter.

"I'm serious."

"Hey, relax, it's not like I want to spend all my time talking about you." Thalia's eyes looked misty from holding in mirth. "If it were up to me, we'd do it way less."

The corners of Percy's mouth twitched upward. "You two talk–"

"Hey!" Annabeth interrupted, materializing beside him with her Yankees cap of invisibility in her fist. "Back!"

Percy's heart jumped. "Wait, were you…? How long were you listening to us?"

"I wasn't," she said with a smirk.

"Okay, creep," he said.

From the road, Argus honked. Percy felt a twinge of disappointment.

"Be safe," Thalia said, pulling Annabeth into another hug. "I'll leave you two alone."

Thalia booked it toward the mess hall. Percy and Annabeth looked awkwardly at each other, the air between them thick.

"I meant it, you know," he said, plucking up his courage.

"What?"

"'Don't be a stranger.' I–I like having you around," he said.

"Oh," she said with a small smile, "that. Yeah, sure."

He rubbed his arm. "It's been a pretty rough Fall for me," he admitted. "It was hard not having my friends around. I…I should have made more of an effort to reach out."

She blinked. "Oh. I had no idea. I'm sorry, Percy."

He shook his head. "No, don't be. I just feel better when I'm with you. That's all I'm trying to say."

She smiled at him, her gray eyes shining, and he felt warm inside. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

"I'm always only an IM away," she said, holding him tightly. "If you ever need me, I'll make time for you, Percy."

He felt hyper-aware of the sound of the breeze rustling through the pine, and the smell of Annabeth's lemon-scented shampoo, and the fact that she was slightly taller than him. Even through all her layers, he could feel her chest against his, a thought that made his head spin.

She backed away and gave him another smile, tucking her loose strands behind her ears. "See you around, Seaweed Brain."

"Yeah, see you around," he said, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

She took off down the hill, and he watched the van until it disappeared from sight. There were so many things that he had a strong feeling he would never get to say.