Chapter Text
“Hi.”
Annabeth doesn’t look up—not that Will expects her to—her pencil scratching across the paper as she frowns at it. He waits for a second, then slides into the seat next to her, swinging his feet a little under the table as he watches her work.
A minute passes before she tilts the notebook toward him, still staring at the page. “Something’s wrong with it. I think the left tower.”
Will glances once to her for confirmation before taking the notebook. It’s a sketch of a big building, kind of like the fancy concert hall his mom recently got to perform at. Most of the lines are neat and sharp, except for the left side, where he can see some smudges and faint eraser marks.
He studies it for a few seconds, tracing over a few faded lines with his finger before sliding the notebook back. “You’ll want to do the third line,” he says, pointing. “One and four would just make it fall over, and two looks weird based on the other side.”
Annabeth takes it back, rechecking his suggestion. She hums, drawing over the third line, then holds the notebook out at arm’s length to squint at it. After a moment, she nods and sets the notebook down, turning toward him properly for the first time.
“Okay, hi. What’s up?”
Will huffs, crossing his legs on the chair. “People are acting weird again.”
Annabeth frowns almost immediately, tilting her head. “Is someone being mean?”
“No, the opposite, actually.” He sighs when her expression doesn’t clear up. “They’re acting like it’s my first week all over.”
Her frown deepens as she flips to a blank page in her notebook. “Okay, give me examples.”
Will thinks for a second, reviewing his mental catalogue of well, that was weird moments from the week. “No one’s pranking me anymore. Which isn’t bad, but it’s still weird. Then Josie let me have the middle seat at lunch, Travis gave me candy for free, Luke said I could have his bunk for the next week, Mary let me borrow her—”
“Wait.“ Annabeth’s pencil pauses mid-scribble, looking to Will with an incredulous expression. “Luke offered you a bunk?”
He nods, chewing on his bottom lip. Annabeth continues to stare at him, her eyebrows shooting up. “That’s…” She trails off, scribbling something in the corner of the page. He isn’t surprised by the reaction—after all, it’s an unofficial Hermes cabin rule that beds go first to Hermes children, with leftovers being assigned based on seniority among the unclaimed. Something which Will is very much lacking.
“And you don’t have any ideas why they’re acting like this?” Annabeth muses, twirling her pencil between her fingers.
Will shakes his head. “That’s why I came to you.”
Annabeth goes quiet for a moment, her pencil tapping steadily against her notebook. Slowly, she begins to nod, her brow furrowing deeper. “Well, you’re right about it being a classic case of first-week treatment. But that doesn’t explain why, especially since you’ve been here for…” Her pencil freezes mid-tap as she pauses, staring at the table. “Oh.”
Will frowns, leaning forward slightly. “What?”
Shifting in her seat, she waves the pencil in his direction. “How long have you been here now?”
“Um, a month, maybe?”
The pencil drops to the notebook with a quiet thud as she sits up straighter, nodding firmly. “That’s it, then. You’re still unclaimed, so I’m guessing they’re trying to be nice.”
Will wrinkles his nose. “But why? Chris has been unclaimed for two years, and no one treats him weird.”
“Well, you’re one of the youngest campers—which I know you don’t want to hear, but it’s true,” she adds when he makes a face. “And, well…” She hesitates, her eyes flicking to her notebook. “If my theories about your godly parent are right, you should’ve been claimed already.”
That really catches Will’s attention. “Wait, you know who my dad is? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Annabeth huffs, folding her arms over her chest. “I said theories, not facts. And Luke told me guessing can make people feel bad.”
“I won’t feel bad, I promise! Just tell me!”
She stares at him for a second, then sighs. “Okay. Well, based on what you’ve told me about your mom, plus your looks and some personality stuff… I think your dad is Apollo.”
Will groans, slumping forward on the table. “I wanted it to be Silena’s mom.”
“You said you’re looking for your dad, dummy.”
“She’s a goddess! She could magic into a dad for me.”
Rolling her eyes, Annabeth picks up her pencil again. “Well, you asked for my guess.”
Will sticks his tongue out at her, pushing himself back up off the table. “Whatever. But when’s he supposed to claim me? How long does that take?”
“The gods don’t have a set timeline, but Apollo’s usually fast.”
“What’s the longest wait?”
She pauses, seeming to do the math for a moment. “Five days.”
Well then. Will sighs, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “And you still think he’s my dad?”
Annabeth smacks his arm lightly with her notebook. “Don’t be like that. It’s just—Luke doesn’t let you do anything to actually get claimed. Apollo likes to make it a big deal.”
“Like what?”
She shrugs, scribbling down something else as she replies. “Archery or music. A good shot or cool song usually does it.”
Will frowns at the table. He thinks the idea is stupid—having to do something crazy stunt for his dad to even recognize him. His ma always told him to just be himself, to not waste time proving things to people who should love him anyway.
“Okay. Well, how do I make everyone act normal again?”
Annabeth looks caught off guard by the question. “Oh. Uh, if you talk to Luke, he’d probably…” She trails off, squinting at him. “You don’t seem very upset.”
Will tilts his head, frowning. “Why would I be? I know they’re just trying to be nice.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Not about that. The unclaimed thing.”
“Oh.” Will shrugs. “I mean, so what? I didn’t have a dad before camp.”
“If you got claimed, you’d get your own bed.”
Will shrugs again, leaning back in his chair. He never had his own bed back home anyway—motel beds weren’t his, and even in their new apartment, they only have a pullout couch. “I don’t care about that. I can sleep anywhere.”
Annabeth narrows her eyes at him, staring at him for a beat. Then, without a word, she flips her notebook to a blank page and writes his name in big, bold letters.
“I’m gonna get you claimed.”
Will frowns, leaning over to try and grab the notebook. “No! I said it’s fine!”
“It’s not fine,” she insists, pulling it out of his reach. “You’re supposed to get claimed. Don’t you want to learn about your powers? Or siblings? You should get to know that.”
Will huffs, slumping back in his chair. “I know who I am. And I don’t need my dad to prove that.”
Rolling her eyes, Annabeth taps her pencil on the page. “Okay fine. Maybe you don’t care, but it’s still not fair. And I’m going to fix it.”
“You just wanna prove your theory right,” he shoots back, folding his arms with a scowl.
She smacks his arm lightly, though the corner of her lips twitch into a smile. “Don’t be like that. Let’s get to work.”