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Annabeth had no excuse, really.
Thalia knew it, Luke knew it, Grover knew it—whatever hellish little trouble she was getting herself into right now, it wasn't because of anything dire.
For Athena's sake, they'd returned from Thalia's quest last year—she was a real hero! They had kleos! Even Clarisse clapped!
There was absolutely no good reason to keep stalking newcomers.
Except…
"Annabeth," Thalia started, leaning back and watching her friend make for the Big House after a record-breaking lunch inhalation, "is shadowing someone."
Luke risked the rule-breaking and leaned back, too. "That's normal for her."
"That's normal pre-Got Dad To Drag Me Into A Quest By Nigh-Blackmail And Then I Chose You And Annabeth Because I'm Not Above Nepotism quest success."
"…That was a long sentence."
"You are a dolt."
"And you're paranoid."
"Bet it's that new kid." Thalia casually speared her mac and cheese with her fork. "The one Grover brought in on Friday."
"The one that killed the Minotaur?" Chris piped, head peeking from behind Luke's. "Ain't no way."
"Hmm," Luke hummed, pursing his lips. "What's she up to?"
Thalia snorted. "Luke, she's thirteen. What do you think she's up to?"
"…No."
"Lil' sis has a type, is all I'm saying."
Luke pouted. "Thals, she's thirteen."
She blew him a kiss, which helped soften the blow. "Get used to it, Castellan. I know a troublemaker when I see one."
"Ha," Chris grinned, elbowing his brother. He pointed between Luke and Thalia. "Get it? 'Cause she and you—?"
"You both make me miserable," Luke said, red for more than one reason.
Grover had to be the one to explain.
Not because he was the one who found him injured and under a pile of broken beach fencing. Honestly, Percy managing to kill the Minotaur before they'd left the cabin was insane in and of itself, but that he did it saving his mother from any harm was another level altogether.
And he had to report all that, because Percy landed the killing blow while playing mythological cowboy—right down to the getting thrown off the bull and going unconscious part.
All while knowing that Sally Jackson was outside camp lines, waiting to find out if her son was all right.
(How she hid him alone all these years was beyond Grover's imagination, but he suspected the string of filthy-smelling—and not just in a human sense—summer flings since Percy third grade had a lot to do with it.
That woman was a trooper, even if her son couldn't understand the intricacies of hiding a powerful demigod in plain sight.)
Grover sighed. Responsibility was tough, and sometimes being the premiere demigod finder had its downsides—the worst of which was not being risked for a searcher's license.
And now? When he'd found yet another powerful child? Strong enough that even Chiron went undercover?
Di immortales. He was never getting out of here.
"Lay it on me, Grover," Mr. D said, in the way that threatened a transformation into an unsavory plant if given the wrong answer.
"Well, sir, he hasn't woken up, yet—"
"Ambrosia? Nectar? Hello?"
"Right, we've been giving him—"
"'We'?"
"Annabeth, sir."
"Of course it is."
Grover cringed. "She's best at managing the quantities. So, uh, so he doesn't burn up."
"What'ssamatter with burning up one lousy demigod?"
"Er, he's thirteen, sir."
"Bah." He waved a hand. "Anything else?"
"He killed the Minotaur."
"So?"
"With no weapon."
A beat.
"…Mr. D?"
"…I do not want two Thalias running around camp," Mr. D said, voice lowering in a threat. "Am. I. Under. Stood?"
Gulp. "Y-Yes, sir."
He put his hand up, flicking his index and middle fingers away. "That's all. Tell me when he wakes up. And make sure that other friend of yours doesn't cause too much trouble."
Annabeth and trouble didn't really mix, so Grover started going through his mental list of close friends, ticking names off one-by-one. "Uhh…? Which one?"
"You know."
"I really don't?"
"Grover," Mr. D said, turning to face the waters with a roll of his eyes, "just go."
A flash of drunk madmen running through fire and off of cliffs played before his eyes, the sound of screaming and maniacal laughter bouncing off the glass of the sun room.
He didn't need to be told thrice.
"You've been awfully helpful, lately," Grover said, plopping down at the sparring bench beside Annabeth. "One might say…too helpful."
"Not you, too," Annabeth said, rolling her eyes.
"I'm just saying."
"You could not."
Grover kicked at a pebble. "His mom's gone back to the city."
Annabeth faltered. "Is…is she okay?"
"She will be. As long as Percy is."
"Must be nice, having someone drop you off…"
"Technically, I dropped you off."
"You know what I mean."
"…Malcolm's getting better at the spear."
They watched for a bit. Annabeth coached her half-brother on a slip and find, and nodded in approval as he gained on Katie's longsword.
She grinned. "He's going to be great at capture the flag this weekend. So's our secret weapon."
Grover straightened, jaw dropping. "You recruited him?"
"He doused Clarisse and her siblings in the bathroom. Pulled the water straight from a bowl," Annabeth said quietly, eyes on her trainees. "If I can't have Thalia on my team, Percy's the next best thing."
"You think he's—?"
"You don't?"
Grover wouldn't like to admit it. There were minor gods all over the place—some even managed to have powerful children. If he squinted, Percy could fit the bill.
But a barehanded Minotaur-killer?
Annabeth's lips tugged up on one corner. "See?"
"This summer is going to be insane. Insane, insane," Grover mumbled, shoving his head in his hands.
"Listen, Percy…" Annabeth started, remorse written all over her face.
Percy's brows dug together. She'd helped him up, even if that was barely a good apology for almost getting him shishkebabed by Clarisse. And hey, they'd won. Luke said that would mean some spotlight on him, at least. Just to prove to his dad that he should've stuck around.
But something in the way Annabeth's eyes glinted and stayed locked on him made him nervous. Seasick, even.
The weird part?
It was in a good way.
Like, about to rush down a rollercoaster, or being one boss battle away from winning a video game.
Or when the really pretty, really popular girl gave you the time of day.
(If he looked down, would he be wearing his pants? Was this all some cruel dream? Would everything—)
"I'm sorry," Annabeth said, and shoved him into the water.
(She didn't sound very sorry.)
"What is wrong with you?!" Percy yelled, the nightmare in full swing. At least he had his pants on. "Why would you—"
And in that moment, he knew he was in trouble.
Because Annabeth smiled.
She smiled, and he forgot, for a second, why he was so mad.
"Your dad's calling," she said, looking above him.
"Oh, you're kidding!" he heard a punk-looking girl—Thalia, he remembered, because Luke had told him about her with a weird wistfulness in his voice—yell from behind red team lines.
"Huh?" Percy said, snapping back to the present. He was a little adrift, still—stuck on Annabeth's little smirk of a smile, stuck on the angle of her face as she looked triumphantly above him, stuck on trying to remember why he was so mad just ten seconds ago.
But he was paying attention well enough to hear Chiron announce in a booming voice:
"You have been claimed by Poseidon—Earthshaker. Stormbringer. Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon!"
Silence, first.
Deafening silence.
A beat.
A breath.
Then Luke clapped.
The trickle of it grew—Annabeth and Thalia next, Chris and some of the other kids from the Hermes cabin—up to an avalanche from one end of the beach to the other. Humanoid figures coming from trees came out to look, and Percy spotted Grover at the very distance, a proud smile on his face as he clapped emphatically.
He watched as his wounds on his arms slipped down with the water, the pain gone and his strength springing back. He'd felt it a little bit while fighting Clarisse on the banks—the proximity to the waves had felt like the fresh air in his lungs, and now he knew why.
He looked up, soaking in the glowing trident above his head.
Something told him this was going to upend his summer worse than the bull-man with tighty-whities.
"What does that mean?" Percy asked, eyes drawn back to the pretty girl with the goddess braids and a solid shove.
Annabeth offered her hand again. Something in her smile promised a truce.
For now.
"You're moving cabins, for one," she said, pulling him up.
"And?"
"And," she paused, "this is the last time I help you."
"Why?"
"I'd say it's because Athena and Poseidon don't get along, but really…" She turned to the crowd and waved.
At Thalia.
Annabeth's smirk grew more triumphant. She nudged him with her arm, and pulled her Yankees cap out and hovered it above her head. "Thanks. I got my best friend back on my team."
"You used me?" Percy gawked.
"All's fair," Annabeth lilted, raising her brows in what he assumed was a salute. Down they went, and down her cap went, too.
Percy was alone in the water, surrounded by whispering and watching campers, nymphs, satyrs, and Chiron.
He remembered what his mom had told him back at the cabin:
You are singular.
You are a miracle.
And Percy thought:
Feels pretty lonely being singular, mom.
Kinda sucks to be a miracle, too.
"What was that about troublemakers, T?" Luke asked, an arm around Annabeth's shoulders. "Something about…knowing one when you see one?"
"Fair play," Thalia said, chin up. She pursed her lips, glancing at Annabeth. "Didn't think you had it in you, to be honest. I really thought…" She shook her head. "Unimportant. Congrats on the four-peat, A. Proud of you, you evil mastermind."
"I just wanted us together again," Annabeth said, smiling softly. She looked between the two of them. "Now you two can stop being weird before capture the flag."
"I'm not weird before capture the flag," Luke frowned, the same time Thalia said, "That's only Luke!"
"Oh. Great. Now you're weird after, too."
Luke tightened his side hug and pointed at his little sister's face. "You are too smart for your own good."
"'You are too smart for'—blah, blah, blah. Who in this trio tricked Procrustes last year when the other two were getting free spinal surgery?" Annabeth asked, a brow up in challenge.
"She has a point," Thalia cringed, the same time Luke said, "I almost had the locks free!"
"Wow," a fourth voice said, "you're not being the dysfunctional family allegations."
"Grover!" Annabeth smiled, wide and glad, and ran up to give him a big, bone-crushing hug.
"You act as if you haven't seen me everyday for the last, like, two weeks," Grover chuckled, hugging her back anyway.
"Dude, like you didn't leave us for most of the year." Pff. "Besides, I'm just happy."
Ahem. "Well, you made my friend grumpy, so don't be too happy."
"Hey," Annabeth said, loosening her grip. "He got claimed. He'll be fine."
"Percy's a strong kid," Luke added. "I'm sure it's gonna work itself out."
Thalia stayed silent. She'd lived it best.
The pressure.
The strength.
Grover hummed, giving Annabeth a look.
She knew it meant he was reading her.
Her emotions.
Her guilt.
"…I think you're lying," Grover said. He was nice about it—a gentle voice and an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close again. "You took care of him."
You don't do that for just anyone.
"Grover's right," Thalia said, unnervingly calm. "You should apologize." She took Luke's hand in hers and squeezed it once, offered Annabeth a sad smile, and…left. No fanfare, no outburst, no explanation.
Not that they needed one.
Annabeth stared at the ground where she'd walked—tiny scores of smoldering grass and twigs stamped where combat boot treads had passed over them.
She pulled away from her protector.
"…I hate being wrong," she said.
"I know," he said.
"Do you think he'll even talk to me?"
"Oho," Grover laughed, something between sarcasm and surprise, "that will not be your main problem."
"They're thirteen," Luke said from the back, exasperated.
"So were you and Thalia," Grover threw back.
"I know!"
"Ha!"
Annabeth counted the seconds and hoped her face and aura were not reading as embarrassed. "So…what is my main problem?"
Grover switched gears so fast that she'd almost forgotten how young, how avoidant he was when they'd first met.
Guess being around Thalia for five years could only make you more confident, really.
He offered a sad smile. "Your main problem is that he's hurt. And alone. And he's definitely got his dad's temper."
"…Those are three things."
"They're connected."
"That doesn't make them not three things."
"You can work with that!"
"Yeah, but it's unhelpful."
"…I'm just the messenger, Annabeth."
"You are literally his protector, Grover."
"Just do something, please," he said, slumping. "He's been moody since moving to cabin three, and I can't do anything about it, because I'm not—" Freeze.
Annabeth squinted at him. "Not…what?"
Grover made a strangled noise, like a garbled bleat, or a strained yelp. Whatever it was, it sounded like it hurt.
Luke sighed, walking up and patting her on the shoulder. "Not you."
Annabeth frowned. "But they're friends, too—"
"It's—" (He wanted to be anywhere but here.) "—it's hard to explain. Can you just trust us?"
"…You won't tell me anyway."
"Nope!"
"Fine," Annabeth said, starting her walk back to the cabins. "But you and Thalia better be normal when I get back."
"We are normal!" Luke yelled after her.
She shook her head at him, mouthing, No, you're not! before disappearing past the tree line.
"Dude," Grover snickered, crossing his arms. "It's bad when the youngest one recognizes what a situationship is."
"It's not a situationship." Pause. "…What's a 'situationship'?"
"Have you asked T to the fireworks?"
"No?"
"This," Grover said, patting Luke on the chest. "This is a situationship." He shook his head. "Do better."
Annabeth thought he had interesting eyes.
She'd thought that since she'd first seen them, coming-to for a second at the crest of the hill, and again when they'd hazily settled on her when he awoke at the Big House clinic.
Blue like the sea on its finest day.
She could read his temper in them—the quick switch from calm to fury, from defeat to joy. They glinted like waves with seafoam and refracting sunlight, more clear to her in their turbulence than the most logic-based puzzle she'd ever tried to solve.
And right now, he was sad.
Alone.
He looked like Thalia, when they'd first reached camp and learned how it was to live here: sitting on the steps in front of his solo-use cabin, head on the doorframe, eyes at a thousand yard stare.
He didn't know, but he was staring right at her.
Annabeth's skin was screaming—she'd grown used to the sensation, as much as she could, when using her cap…but sometimes it compounded with her emotions. Sometimes it liked to remind her to think with her head instead of her heart, like a nudge from her mother.
But hey, sometimes logic made people hate you.
And out of everyone at camp, she didn't think she could handle it if Percy shut her out forever.
He didn't know the rules of their life. He didn't know about offerings, or kleos, or strategy. He didn't know why Mr. D hated them all, or why Chiron went to teach him at Yancy, or why there was a wide pine at the crest of the hill. She'd seen and heard him talking to Luke—many hours spent observing both with and without her cap—and she knew that he believed in unconditionality. In acceptance. In home.
An idealized version, surely. Something a demigod could never have. Fictionalized into every book she'd ever struggled to read, and stamped on every camper's heart as unlikely at best and impossible at worst.
Sally Jackson was singular in her approach. It could never be that way for the rest of them.
It could never be that way for Annabeth.
And yet…
She took off her cap.
Percy blinked, leaning back in surprise and almost falling over. "What—"
"Um." She cleared her throat, pressing her fingers on the white, interlocked N-Y letters for all they were worth. "I wanted to apologize."
Percy eyed her, squinting slightly. "…I'm listening."
The words came out in a rush. "I'm sorry for using you to get Thalia back. There's this—" Sigh. "—you wouldn't know, Luke doesn't bring it up to the new kids, ever. But Thalia got banned from teaming up with us since our quest last year, and it's kind of made us…"
…broken.
She shook her head. "The point is, I should've told you. After everything you've been able to do, I knew for sure you were a Big Three kid, and that would mean the scales wouldn't be so tipped when we ran a game. It would mean the three of us together again."
She felt the imprint of the Yankees logo on her fingertips, and felt Thalia's silence from earlier in the day.
"I forgot," Annabeth said, quiet now. "How…difficult…it could be, for someone like you. Especially for someone like you. And I'm really sorr—"
"That's it?" Percy cut in, his frown deep on his skin. He stood, and she noticed his hands curling into fists. "Nothing about almost getting me skewered by Clarisse?"
Annabeth scrunched up and tilted her face. "…No?" Is he serious right now? "What makes you think Clarisse could beat you?"
"She's huge! And her dad is the literal god of war!" he said, arms flinging out to his sides. "I don't know if you noticed, but I don't exactly have a pro wrestler's physique."
"You broke her spear, you probably could've summoned the water again—"
"'Probably'?"
"No way you'd lose, Percy."
Percy shook his head in disbelief. "Is everything about fighting and winning with you?"
"What else is there?" Annabeth snapped. "We're demigods, it's what we do."
"It's what you do," he said, rolling his eyes.
She scoffed, crossing her arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I may be Poseidon's kid," Percy said, as if it was something worse than an insult, "but I'm Sally Jackson's son." He let the words hang in the air, chest heaving like he was ready to pounce if she disagreed.
Something in Annabeth tore apart. It felt like fire in her throat. She barely noticed as one of her hands found its way to her necklace—to her father's class ring.
Would she ever be able to say that?
Would she ever be able to call herself Frederick Chase's daughter again?
Percy glanced down at her hand and softened. "Look, I just…I don't belong here, okay? I'm not like you, or Luke, or Thalia. I'm just a kid. A normal kid."
Normal.
What a word.
It would never apply to them, whether they knew if they were demigods or not.
One way or another, normal was never in the threads of their strings.
Annabeth knew that well enough.
She forced her hand off of the ring, and the memory of her father as far away as possible. "You do belong here. A normal kid doesn't heal in the water. A normal kid doesn't have control over bathroom plumbing. A normal kid doesn't kill the Minotaur with his bare hands."
"Why do you keep saying it like that?" Percy strained. "Like I'm more special than you are?"
"Because you are."
(The words stung.
The truth always stung.
It just sucked that this time, it stung for her.)
Annabeth steeled herself. "The Big Three are called that for a reason. And your dad claiming you as fast as he did…Percy, there are kids who've been here for years and still aren't claimed. You still think your dad doesn't care about you? Even a little bit?"
Percy faltered. "That's not—" His lip quivered. "…He doesn't care about my mom."
"You don't know that."
"Why would he leave if he did?"
"The gods have their own families," Annabeth said, looking at the ground. "There are…rules. But they care." She remembered Hermes visiting May Castellan the same day they'd arrived. "…Some of them care."
"Oh," Percy said, realizing. "I…"
"It's not…What your parents do, it's not you," Annabeth said carefully. "You are a demigod. You belong with other demigods. That's it. Simple."
"But what if the other demigods don't think that?" he asked, sounding empty.
"What are you talk—" —Oh.
Oh, no.
This is the last time I help you.
Her jaw dropped. "That wasn't—"
"You were just making room for your friends, right?" Percy said quietly. His jaw clenched, and he stared at the floorboards under his feet. "Long game. Makes sense for Athena."
"That's not what I meant," Annabeth insisted, stepping forward.
It burned when he stepped back.
"Percy, I really did help you. I wanted to. And that other stuff is just for the game! I'm serious, and I'm really sorry," she said, exasperated.
Percy retreated into his cabin. She saw a backpack on the edge of the fountain, and some of his stuff strewn about near it. "It doesn't matter, anyway," he said, packing up the extra things into his bag. "Keep your apology. I'm going home."
"You can't do that."
His back was rigid. "Oh, is there a rule for that, too?"
"…No," Annabeth conceded. She weighed the pros and cons—quick lists dotting themselves on her mental notepad, rapid-fire. There was one point that stuck out the strongest—the one that reminded her of her role here the most.
She was a commander.
She didn't leave soldiers out to rot.
"You can leave," she said. "But you shouldn't."
"Okay? Why no—"
"You'll die."
He froze.
Annabeth tried to read his face—a flash of worry hidden behind his eyes, and a veil of understanding blanketing the rest of his features. The trickle of information would've connected a million different ways in his head by now, and to the same conclusion:
The only reason he'd killed the Minotaur was because he was special.
The only reason it didn't kill him was because Grover got him to camp.
For a moment, she felt like she'd won him over.
But it made sense for Poseidon.
To be a wildcard.
Percy glared at her, his face red. "Just 'cause you couldn't make it out there alone, doesn't mean I can't," he said, shooting the words like bullets.
Annabeth froze.
He recoiled in a heartbeat, and his frown went slack as if he regretted letting the words loose. "Wait—"
But if there was any fondness for him left in her, it just went out the window.
"You know what? Fine," she growled. "Leave. But don't say I didn't warn you."
And for some reason, walking away felt like the cutting of a string.
The last thing she would've banked on was Malcolm snitching.
After all that she'd done for him, that little—
Whatever. Whatever. She'd have a chat with him later.
(In the arena.)
(With live blades.)
For now, she had to deal with the angry-disappointed-flabbergasted satyr standing outside her window. Never before had she been so grateful to have low windows and perpetually out-and-about siblings—she had some privacy, and she could look at least a little less like a child while receiving a talking-to from her best friend.
"Grover, I didn't do it," Annabeth said, knowing she very much did it.
"Swear on the River Styx," Grover frowned. His arms were crossed, and the curls on the right side of his head were matted and dotted with leaves, like he'd rushed to her cabin the second he'd found out.
Which, y'know, he did.
She grimaced. "…Nevermind."
"One favor, Annabeth," he said with a sigh. Even his horns looked upset. "I asked for one favor. First one I've ever asked of you the entire time we've known each other."
"Okay, well, your instructions didn't include not making him angry."
"That was implied!"
"What was I supposed to do, hogtie him to the cabin door?!"
Bleat! "Maybe!"
"Grover, come on—"
"Uh," a voice said, "guys?"
"I'm still mad at you," Annabeth frowned, turning to her half-brother.
"Yeah, I figured," Malcolm said, walking in with his hands up. "But I come in peace."
"Rules of engagement is a flimsy defense when I outrank you."
"Fair warfare is our whole thing, though, right?" He laughed nervously, looking between her and Grover. He was starting to sweat. "Right, Annabeth?"
Silence.
"…What's up, Malcolm?" Grover asked, caving with a sigh. Annabeth thought he looked his age, for once, and did not enjoy the knowledge that she'd caused that change.
"Saw Percy leaving the Big House." Malcolm grinned at his sister. "Chiron sent him back to his cabin."
A beat.
Two.
"I'm gonna go check on him," Grover said, ducking out with a trot. "Don't kill your brother!"
Annabeth settled for a deep breath and a thousand 10 to 1 countdowns. She tapped her fingers together, hoping the fidgeting could get some of the fury out of her system.
Malcolm gulped.
"…You're on thin ice," she finally said, inhaling deeply once more.
"I will take that over death, yeah," he exhaled. "Way better."
"Malcolm."
"Mhm?"
"Does water at camp ever freeze?"
"…Okay, yeah, threat taken," he said, that nervous grin back on his face. He jutted out his thumbs to the cabin doors. "I'll go now, before you change your mind."
"Uh-huh."
He ran. "Bye! Thank you! You're the best!"
Grover thought, perhaps, that being an empath would mean playing referee wouldn't suck so much. He'd had enough practice with Thalia and Luke, at least, to expect the worst.
He forgot to account for new-teens being emotional mush, the fact that Percy was a little more psycho than Thalia, and the fact that Annabeth was a lot more strategic than Luke.
He needed a promotion.
Preferably to Searcher.
"Oh? Still here?" Annabeth asked, arriving with subtle swagger in her step.
Immediately, he felt Percy's…what, anxiety? Panic? Regretful Whatever it was, it spiked. Grover frowned at his friend. "Annabeth."
"It's okay, Grover," Percy said, a little awkwardly. He couldn't look her in the eye. "My mom…she said it's better if I stay. At least for the summer."
"Hmm," Annabeth hummed.
"…What?"
"She's smart."
Percy let a little smile slip. "Yeah."
Annabeth smirked. "You must be more like your dad."
"Annabeth!" Grover said, throwing an arm out before her. He looked at Percy. "Percy, she didn't mean that." And Annabeth. "Tell him you didn't mean that."
"But I did," Annabeth shrugged.
"What happened to trying?" he seethed.
"He's impertinent."
Percy's face puffed up, and from every direction Grover could only read anger. "And you're—you're—"
"And slow, apparently," Annabeth scoffed. She turned to Grover, muttering, "What did I ever see—"
"—you're incapable of fun," Percy finished, getting in her face.
Grover remembered why he stopped refereeing—his arm was stuck between his friends, slowly but surely losing feeling. "Hey, uh—"
"Winning's fun," Annabeth said, voice low.
"Guess I'm gonna have to make you forget what that feels like," Percy threatened. He raised himself, using all three inches of advantage to look down on her.
Grover could feel his arm twisting into odd angles by their shoving. "Heeey, wow, that's a little mean, maybe we shouldn't—"
Annabeth's brow shot up, amused, but he knew she was ticked. "You think you have a chance, Seaweed Brain?"
"Any time, any place, Wise Girl," Percy said, though the enunciation of Wise Girl sounded more like Stupidest Person I've Ever Met.
"Oh, no," Grover eked out, sensing the presence of multiple demigods before he could see them.
Great.
An audience.
He really needed a promotion.
Sweat. "So, I know this great song—"
"No Consensus Song, Grover," Annabeth said, steely-eyed. Something was festering in her mind, and it wasn't his favorite side of her—cunning and smarts and relentlessness were all well and good when needed, but there was a reason she'd almost gotten her family stuck at Medusa's last year, and it wasn't because she refused a snack.
Grover gasped, feeling a slight burn around his elbow. Were it not for his arm (or the remnants of it) between them, they'd have probably strangled each other by now.
Didn't make him feel any better, really.
"Why not?" he said, laughing nervously as if that would alleviate the pain. "You love that song!"
She pushed closer, frowning. "He doesn't deserve it."
"It was a four-peat, right?" Percy said, watching her eyes. He had the same look on his face as when he had the fountain water grab Nancy Bobofit.
(Silently, Grover thanked the gods that the cabins were well inland.)
Annabeth glowered at Percy, but stayed silent.
Waiting.
She's plotting, Grover thought, and I will never have a normal arm again.
"Say goodbye to your crown, princess," Percy smirked. He turned back to his cabin, and Grover snatched back his arm like it was the last plant on earth.
It was throbbing, and he would need to ask for a salve, but it was still attached and that's all that mattered.
"Well, that was completely unhelpful," Grover said, taking in the crowd. It was fifteen campers max—they weren't too close, but it had been heated, and it wouldn't take much brainpower to figure out that what took place was anything but successful diplomacy. He turned to Annabeth, hoping to offer a smile and some disappointment.
He found no Annabeth.
He threw his head back. "Oh, come o—"
"Hey, Percy!" Annabeth's voice called, loud and clear, right in front of Cabin 3's steps.
Percy whirled, confused, and tripped on air.
Or, well, Annabeth's invisible foot.
"Hey, what's going on!" Luke called, from way back in the (now-laughing) crowd. "What is this?!"
Grover scoured the ground and found them—Annabeth's retreating steps heading back to Cabin 6. She felt annoyed, still, but proud of herself, too. Before him, Percy had dusted himself off in silent rage and stormed back into his room. Around him, more campers started to emerge, and Luke was starting his investigation.
Soon, this would be one more report to write and maybe even two hours shoveling pegasi dung.
Soon, this would be Thalia re-proposing the get-along hunt—a two-man foot-race through the woods, feet tied and a myriad of tasks to be done by nightfall.
Soon, this would be Annabeth and Percy passing along snide remarks through Grover during every conceivable time of day.
Grover sighed.
He knew how kids could be. He knew how his friends could be. And worst of all, he knew how demigods could be.
He shut his eyes, frowning to the sound of Luke's voice asking Connor Stoll about who started the fight.
He breathed.
…Soon, this would be very, very bad.