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“A lot of teenagers think the world ends when they turn sixteen.” Lena shrugged, looking empathically at him.
“Yeah, except in my case the world actually might end when I turn sixteen. If the Earth blows up on August 18th, you know who to blame.” The demigod scoffed.
Lena chewed her lip, wondering if she should tell him.
“What if it blows up on February 11th?”
“What day is that?”
“My birthday.”
He looked at her levelly.
“You're not joking?”
The young not-witch shook her head.
“You too?!” he asked incredulously.
“Seems like it.”
Percy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Di immortales, this is so whack.” He turned to look at her. "There's this whole prophecy about me... well, kinda, it's about a child of the Big Three. You know, Zeus, Poseidon, Hades. I'm still not sure what it really says, but in broad strokes, when that child reaches 16 they're going to have to decide the fate of Olympus, and fight in like a huge war probably.”
Lena looked down at her black chucks. Percy had to commend her on her choice of shoes, he really liked Converse as well. He had to save up his allowance to actually buy the only pair he had, but nobody could deny that they looked really good on him.
“I'm sorry, Percy,” she said.
“What about you?” He had to crane his neck to look at her face. It's like she always wanted to hide it from the view.
“Mine is kinda stupid compared to yours.”
“Come on. Not fair." He sounded like a little kid. "I told you mine.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “When I turn 16, I might... turn Dark.”
“Turn... dark?” Percy repeated, furrowing his brow. He didn't quite understand what she meant. His new friend's world was still a bit of a mystery to him. It was very easy for Lena to figure out how Percy's worked on the other hand. All she had to do was crack open a book about Greek mythology and she was good to go. And Lena loved reading books.
There were no books about Casters. Well, there were, but not in any library Percy would have access to. If he only knew. Maybe he'd even be better at reading them than she was. English caused him problems, but he was a master of Ancient Greek. And was also quickly picking up Latin from what she noticed. Maybe he could even read Niadic if he tried.
“Is it like in Star Wars? You're gonna join the dark side? Get a red lightsaber? Do Casters watch Star Wars?”
“You think Ethan didn't show me Star Wars? He even has a shirt that says 'Han Shot First'.”
“Nerd.” Percy chuckled.
“It's not like that... I mean, I guess it is. Normally it's a choice. You chose darkness instead of the light, and your eyes turn gold, and you slowly stop caring about anyone, or anything. You start realizing that you may enjoy hurting people more than you thought. But for my family it's different.” She looked him in the eyes. “Because I don't get a choice.”
He put his hand over his face. Then he sighed. It was a long, pained sigh. “Christ. That's awful, Lena.”
“I know,” she said. Her face was grim. Resigned.
“There's nothing you can do about it?”
“I don't know. No one tells me anything. They don't want to risk me knowing how to do dangerous Casts if I turn Dark.”
Percy groaned and crashed into the green grass. Despite it being late autumn, the park still looked lush, almost like it was early spring. That's South Carolina weather for you, he guessed.
“Prophecies, curses, I'm so sick of it!” he exclaimed to the sky.
“I know!” Lena fell next to him, sharing in his frustration. “Why couldn't I just be a normal girl? I could go to a normal school, and have normal friends, and not have to worry about some evil witch trying to kill me. Or recruit me to her side, who the hell knows?”
“Witch? Try a Titan for size! You're not the only one hunted by some golden-eyed asshole.”
Lena sighed, “I long for a life where my only nemesis is just Savannah Snow, who wants to bully me for dressing in black and writing poetry.”
They were silent for a while, just staring at the clouds. She was moving them again, tracing swirling patterns in them that reminded him of the waves.
“I bet you write better poetry than Apollo though.” Percy looked at her, trying to break down that gloomy mood they put themselves in. Trying to check if he could put a smile back on her face.
“You met the god of poetry?” She turned around to look at him, very interested, resting her head on her elbow. Her green eyes were sparkling, “What is he like?”
Percy snorted. “Trust me, don't get your hopes up. He's a major dunce."
Percy thought for a moment trying to remember one of Apollo's 'masterpieces'.
"Car speeds through the air,
Sun kisses the horizon,
Gimme a smooch"
“Eww.” Lena scrunched up her nose in disgust. “Wait. Gim—me—a—smooch," she counted on her fingers. "That's only four syllables!”
“You sure?” Percy asked. To him, grammar was the real black magic. Lena had to be a spellcaster in order to understand it as well as she did. Percy was friends with Annabeth, so he understood that people can have unusual hobbies and interests, hobbies that no other person would have, and there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, it was kinda cool. Some people were huge fans of Star Wars, Lena was a huge fan of poetry.
“Smooch is just one syllable,” she insisted.
“But it has two o's in it,” Percy protested.
“But the o's are read as just one sound. It's a digraph. The same way words like 'lie' or 'read' are only one syllable.”
“Witchcraft!” Percy cried, pointing at her.
“More like 'paying attention in class',” she said smiling at him smugly.
“It's hard to pay attention in class when you have ADHD and dyslexia.”
Her smile disappeared.
“I'm sorry.”
“Nah, I'm just trying to make you feel bad.” Percy smirked, quirking his eyebrows mischievously. “I think it's super cool how you know all this stuff.”
“As if," she scoffed. "I'm super lame.”
“You're super not. You know what you want to do when you grow up, I don't. You're going to be a writer, and write books full of amazing poetry! I don't even know if I get to grow up.”
They both cringed. As always his mouth was faster than his brain. Just like that he brought the conversation right back to square one.
“You really think I'm going to care about writing as a Dark Caster?” Lena asked, sitting back up.
“Okay, I still don't really know what a dark caster is, but you're definitely not that.” Percy insisted, also getting into a sitting position to be on eye-level with her. She didn't look convinced, "And I don't think even turning evil could stop you from being a massive book nerd. You'd just... start writing poems about kicking puppies and eating children."
She almost laughed at that. He held onto that almost.
“You know,” Lena started, a little nervous, “I count the days before my 16th birthday.”
She pulled back her sleeve and revealed all the words and tiny drawings painted on her hand in black sharpie and pen. Sure enough, there was a number 102 written in beautiful calligraphy.
“That's nuts.” Percy sat back up. His brows creased when he frowned.
“Well, you wouldn't be the first person to think I'm crazy,” she sighed, covering the scribbles with her sleeve once again.
“You're not, I'm just...” he gestured at nothing trying to figure out the right words, “I can't imagine tallying up every morning how many days I have left until my birthday, knowing that I'm slowly running out of time. Like that's so scary to me. I think I would've gone insane.”
It was true. Even now Percy couldn't think of the top of his head how many days he had left until his 16th birthday. Just thinking about it made him feel anxious. If he didn't know the exact number, he could just pretend it was far away every time. Lena didn't have that luxury. Or at the very least, she didn't want to allow herself to have it. She crossed her arms over her knees and rested her chin on them. Their messy black hair was whipping in the wind.
“I'd go insane not knowing.” Her lips twisted in an unsure grimace. She looked at the number 102 again. “I need to know. Otherwise I'd wake up every day dreading that it's today, that I missed it. That I'll wake up one day and I won't be able to recognize my face in the mirror. I need to know that day is not here yet.”
Percy felt a pit of anxiety form in his stomach. He hated feeling useless, or not knowing what to say. Unfortunately he was very familiar with both feelings. Yes, him and Lena certainly had a lot in common, but he knew that no matter what happened with the supposed scary prophecy hanging over his head, he would always be Percy Jackson, and nobody else.
Except maybe that wasn't fully true.
“Can I tell you something?” he started. She nodded her head. “That prophecy I told you about... it says that a child of the Big Three will reach 16 and either save Olympus or destroy it. At first that just meant that I need to make sure I'm the kid from the prophecy, because someone else may be swayed to Kronos' side. But what if I'm the wrong person?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if something happens to me, and I go crazy, and I'm the one that destroys Olympus? My friend Rachel made this painting of me fighting one of my siblings (real jerk, it's a long story), and I hate looking at that painting. Because I look like I'm enjoying it too much. Like I'm standing over his fallen body, grinning ear to ear like a total psycho.”
“People sometimes tell me I have a scary sounding laugh,” she said sheepishly. Now she was the one trying to cheer him up.
“Do it,” he said smirking.
“I can't do it on command!” she protested. “Say something funny maybe.”
“I've been saying funny stuff this whole time!”
“You're not as funny as you'd like to think,” she teased with a cheeky grin.
“Okay, ouch! You're mean.”
“Skater boy.”
“Emo kid.”
“Jerk!”
“Witch!”
They burst out laughing. Lena smiled. The teasing had the desired effect. Percy's mood improved drastically.
“Your laugh doesn't sound scary at all. It's adorable,” Percy said, a little disappointed.
“My point is, that painting doesn't mean anything. So you look a little scary when you fight, who cares?”
“Why does that apply to me, and not to you?”
Touché. He turned the tables on her. She had to think for a moment.
“Because, demigod or not, you decide who you are. I don't. I know I was predestined from birth to either be bad or good. And whenever I do something bad, I'm worried that it's a sign. I don't like that sometimes I want to do bad things.”
“That's stupid.”
“Takes one to know one,” Lena said, forcing a laugh.
“Everyone does bad things sometimes, Lena. We're teenagers. What, do Light Casters in your family never swear, and are always happy, and just constantly help at dog shelters, and protest to save the rain forests, and give money to the poor?
“My Gramma did sponsor several charities. And my Aunt Twyla protested the Vietnam War.”
“Okay, I get it, your family is really swell. But so are you. Sneaking out of the house once or twice to go on a date, or wanting to kick some jerk's ass for bullying you doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you a person.”
She wanted to argue with him, but deep down she knew what he said made sense. It didn't make the fear go away, but maybe someday it could.
“You're smarter than people give you credit for.”
“Well, people say you're a dangerous outcast, but you're actually a lovable cinnamon roll. Maybe people just don't know what they're talking about.”
“Why won't nobody tell you the full prophecy?” she asked. It was on her mind since he said it.
“I don't know," he said, rolling his shoulders. “Scared of what I would do if I found out, I guess? I take it it's the same for you too?”
She nodded. “I'm completely in the dark. Uncle Macon insists I'm not turning into a Dark Caster, and he sounds so certain. Why can't he tell me why, then? I would love to be certain too. I don't like the idea that they're hiding something from me. I know they're just trying to protect me—”
“That's the biggest load of bull.” Percy narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“This idea that you're doing someone a favor by lying to them. It benefits nobody but the liar. They're just afraid that you'll resent them for lying if they admit they lied to you. Nothing good in my life ever came from secrets. My mom almost died, because she waited too long to tell me I'm a demigod. People shouldn't decide for you if you can handle the truth or not. It's your life. If anyone should know the truth about it, it's you.”
For a moment nobody said anything. Percy was beginning to worry that he made her upset. He could even see her eyes begin to water. Then she finally spoke.
“Thank you, Percy.” She smiled. It was a sad smile, but she looked like a big weight fell off her shoulders.
His intense expression softened. “It's nothing.”
“It's really not.”
Silence again. But a comfortable kind of silence. The kind of silence when you're just enjoying the other person being there next to you.
“Hey,” he finally spoke.
“What?” she asked.
He looked into her eyes. They were almost the same colors as his. He kind of liked it. It made him almost sad he didn't grow up with a lot of siblings at Camp Half-Blood, like the other campers. He always wondered what it would be like to have a sister. If he did, he'd bet she'd be a lot like Lena. Feisty and sarcastic like him, but a lot more responsible. Tyson would like her, too.
She also noticed how similar they looked. But more importantly, how well they got along. She's had a lot of cousins that felt like her siblings, but she never had a brother like Percy. The kind that would give you advice, and defend you from bullies. She always had Ridley, but Ridley also had her own siblings, and to be truthful sometimes Lena was jealous of that connection. Until now.
“You're going to be okay, Lena Beana,” he said. And he meant it.
“So will you,” she said back, absolutely certain, “Seaweed Brain.”