Chapter Text
At least the school isn’t far from Camp, Grover thought.
Yancy Academy, his current assignment. The school was like most boarding schools in Upstate New York. Preppy enough, bland, no school spirit unless they had a football team (Yancy did not).
One kid’s name on the class roster made it quite clear he was a half-blood and his non-godly parent knew of the gods’ existence. Who else names their kid Perseus? No one normal, that’s for sure.
Work with the Mist was done to make sure they were roommates. Grover Underwood and Perseus Jackson, the room assignments document read.
The name sent a shiver down his spine, he almost bleated. First a child of Zeus, then a kid named after one? No way this kid could end up being another result of Zeus unable to keep it in his pants. Grover wouldn’t be looking forward to running from Kindly Ones up Half-Blood Hill again.
But that was impossible, he was too young (in satyr years) to find two powerful half-bloods. He dismissed the thought.
Grover hadn’t brought much. Clothes, tin cans, toiletries, and his reed pipes. As soon as he entered the building, his nose tingled.
It was a powerful scent, yet masked somehow, like there were layers to it (hey, satyr noses are better than the average human one).
The incoming sixth graders gathered in the auditorium. Grover felt weird amongst them. These kids were all twelve.
He took a seat awkwardly. Everyone still had their things, but the grade wasn’t all that large so there was room for everyone and their loads of luggage.
Something hit Grover in the back of the head, getting stuck in his curls. He reached up to find the first day itinerary folded into a paper airplane. The ginger girl behind him chortled, like it was the funniest thing ever.
“Hand slipped, sorry!” she snarked, giving him a tooth gapped grin.
He opted for ignoring her. To think that he was way older than a high schooler, yet being picked on by a twelve year old girl. A blow to the ego, really.
He scoped out the room, looking for Perseus. The principal was talking, so he couldn’t just get up and sniff every kid in the face. Not to mention that was pretty socially unacceptable.
There was no way to really identify a demigod. Sure, most were generally good looking and had the looks of their parents (Thalia with her electric eyes, Annabeth’s gray eyes, the Apollo Cabin’s blonde locks, the Ares’ cabin’s burliness), but any kid here could look like that coincidentally.
Most kids were obviously the kids of big CEOS, with designer luggage and the most expensive shoes. They came in as if they already owned the place. Their daddies were probably donating to renovate the library, or get a new turf, or that kind of stuff, so they kind of did.
Others stuck to the outskirts of the room, hoods over their heads.
He wondered which Perseus was.
Finally, it was time to head to his room. 203.
As he got to the second floor, the scent grew stronger.
Grover lugged his things in the room. His roommate was already there.
His hair was jet black and unruly. He had a Mediterranean complexion and intensely green eyes. The godly DNA was obviously strong in this one. He wore an oversized hoodie and plain jeans with white leather Reeboks.
“You’re Perseus, right? I’m Grover,” he introduced, holding out a hand.
He shook it and laughed. “Percy’s good. God, I hate they had to put my full name, so embarrassing.”
Grover was honestly glad he wouldn’t have to call this scrawny twelve year old Perseus on a daily basis. It was a name the kid would have to grow into.
“Where are you from?” Percy asked, throwing unfolded clothes into his drawers.
Grover was relieved his roommate wasn’t a neat freak, he didn’t do well with neatness. The wild did not tend to be a neat place. “Long Island,” he said, unpacking his own stuff. “What about you?”
“Manhattan,” Percy shrugged. Grover nodded. Whoever this kid’s parent was knew their stuff: the name, whatever was masking his scent, living close to Camp.
The mask covering his scent wasn’t Percy smelling bad or anything. It was just the stench of quintessential mortality. The kind of thing a monster wouldn’t look twice at. Fortunately, Grover was not as stupid as monsters, the smell was so overwhelmingly human it was enough to raise a red flag in the nose of any satyr.
They talked, and Percy was surprisingly easy going. He was a lot like Thalia, with his sarcastic humor and nonchalant manner.
He talked about his mom, who worked at a candy shop in Grand Central. The way he described her almost made Grover think maybe his mother was the goddess, raising a half human kid. But then Percy mentioned a step-father, and it clicked. “Smelly Gabe- I mean Gabe,” he said, correcting himself. “I’ve called him that to myself for years,” He admitted. Percy’s mom was a genius. The guy sounded so repulsively human, that the saint-like woman must’ve married him for just that purpose.
Most demigod’s parents seemed to throw them out. They should’ve taken a lesson from Mrs. Jackson.
He asked Grover about himself, and the question caught him off guard. He hadn’t had to talk to a mortal in so long.
Who was he, without his dreams of Pan and life at Camp?
He decided to talk about his dad. Sure, he’d disappeared on his quest for Pan, but he tried to make him seem like he was around sometimes to Percy, although the sadness must’ve been evident in his voice.
Percy gave him an empathetic look, like he understood.
“Dads can suck,” Percy agreed. “Mine’s an asshole, or he must’ve been anyway for leaving my mom.”
“Do you ever see him?” Grover asked, trying not to sound too interested.
“Nah, mom says he got lost at sea,” Percy responded, looking down to hide an expression.
Sea. Could he be…? Oh gods no, he had to call Chiron.