Chapter Text
Friday, August 14th
Every day I'm grateful to be born a Three. That's the only thing I can thank my parents for giving me. As I fill in the number three on my university application, I can’t help but feel lucky. If I hadn't been born with this number attached to my name, going to higher schooling would basically be an impossibility—something only allowed by 'extenuating circumstances.' I would never be able to become an architect, to try to surpass the legacy of my mother. I guess if being great at design is hereditary, I’d have to thank my mom for that too.
I glance down at my watch. Luke’s flight from Waverly arrived almost an hour ago, and we agreed to meet at the library in five minutes. I tuck away my application within a folder, into my backpack, and safely away in my dreams. My eyes wander to the skyline as I pass building after building. One beauty catches my eye: ionic columns reach up its sides until being twisted into the main center of the structure. Engraved in a script that managed to be both elegant and commanding are the words "Athena Inc." I let myself release an exasperated chuckle. Of course. Athena unveils another skyscraper while her daughter is practically homeless.
I say practically because I realized a long time ago that if I was going to be paying completely on my own for university, I didn’t have the luxury of losing my paychecks to monthly rent. Of course, Luke has helped make it look like I’m off at boarding school for all official purposes. Athena, Frederick, and any prospective employer would think I’d spent my childhood and teenage years at Waverly Academy of the Gifted across the country on Illéa’s east coast. And while both my parents would have probably been on board with shipping me off to some high-end prep school, even at ten years old I decided I didn’t want anything from parents who couldn’t first give me their love.
So, I left. I’ve worked odd jobs and studied in every spare moment. I’d been in Waverly through spring and returned to Angeles a few months ago for a summer internship.
I hadn’t realized I’d stopped walking to admire the building until a pair of hands aggressively grips my shoulders. A ripple of adrenaline snakes down my back. I drop, spinning left to free my right shoulder. Now springing back up, my left shoulder rams into the man’s gut. He stumbles back, and I jab straight at his jugular. He collapses to his knees, his eyes beginning to well.
I doubt Waverly Academy could’ve taught me that. Swinging my backpack over my shoulder, I hurry away. No need to get involved with the police. A few heads turn, but no one even seems particularly interested. The most noteworthy part to a passerby was that the girl actually fought back, not that she was grabbed in the first place.
The abrupt blare of a car horn rips through the air. A boy narrowly darts in front of a truck, the driver cursing him out the window. Relief spreads across his face as his eyes find mine, and he jogs up to me. “What just happened?” Luke’s gaze flashes down my body, looking for signs of injury.
“You know. The usual.” I deadpan.
“The usual!” Luke’s face has flushed red. Cartoon smoke might as well be spewing from his ears.
“Yes, the usual!” I reply, breathless. “You know for as many times someone tries that when I’m with you, there’s three more for when I’m alone.” I hate that I feel tears burning. I hate that my voice is rising. Deep breaths, I tell myself. I can’t let this get to me.
Luke is frantic now. Almost twitchy. His eyes keep bouncing between me, the man down the sidewalk, and his fists.
“Hey,” I lightly hold his wrists. “He’s going to think twice before trying that again. Law enforcement would make this messier for both of us.” Luke exhales. He knows I’m right, and he pulls me in for a tight hug.
“It’s just that when I’m with you, I know I can protect you,” he whispers. “I know I’d never let something hurt you, so there’s nothing to fear, but when you’re alone, I—"
I pull away and interject, “And when I’m alone, I can protect me. That’s the whole reason you taught me how.” I take his hand. “Let’s get to the library, okay?” Luke nods and follows along, but I can’t shake the icy blue fire burning in his eyes.
We sit at our usual table, and after catching up on our summers, we work in an easy silence. His fingers, thin and nimble, race across the keyboard of the computer. I can't help but be fascinated by the ease he works at. Anyone who might spot us in the back corner of the library would never be able to tell if he was working on his latest lease for an internship or if he was passing along the schematics of a museum to his highest bidder. He'll tap his foot a bit. Crack his knuckles. Maybe even hum a short refrain. But when his eyes glance up from the screen to land on me, he basically tells me he's working on something he'd like to keep me out of. And I know better than to ask.
"What are you staring at, Beth?" I don't tell him I was thinking that with his graceful hands, he would have been a marvelous Five if he leaned into it. I don't tell him he'd be a natural at the piano, the guitar, the violin. I don't tell him that he could scrape by as a Five because I know it's not true. The Caste system means that he can never truly pursue his true passion, coding.
I answer, "Thinking about how I could use some of that computer whiz to fix up this university application."
Luke scoots his chair closer, to look at the form in front of me. "Let's see. What have we got here?" He scans the paper, and his gaze halts right where I thought it would. "Teacher recommendation?"
"Teacher recommendation." I confirm.
“When exactly was the last time you went to actual school?”
"The last teacher who would actually know me would have been my engineering counselor when I was eleven. But I only lasted like three months in person before having to get a job." When I first ran away, I thought I could enroll in an educational program. And, while I got a scholarship to one of the cheapest schools in Waverly, I couldn't scrape together enough money for things like food or a place to live or clothes without a job. While it’s true that only Threes have access to most schooling opportunities, they still aren’t free. “Luke, what can I do? I can't just invent a recommendation. That would catch up with me eventually. Especially because I need a good one. But if I sign off the name of someone important, then chances are I might actually run into them in the job field, and if…” I trail off. Luke has turned away from me and back to the computer. His hands are a whirlwind at the keyboard. "Luke?" His eyes skim down the page as he frantically scrolls. "Hello? Earth to Luke..." No response. I sigh and sit back in my chair. The clacking of keys cuts into the silence.
He hums to himself and a few minutes later, he pushes one final key, looks up at me with a devious smirk, and melodramatically declares, "How would you, Miss Annabeth Chase, like to be a star pupil of none other than Mr. Kenneth Blake, a private tutor working with Waverly Academy for the past 20 years and who has recently been placed into hospice care after a tragic fall?"
“That sounds absolutely perfect.” Luke looks amused, and I quickly correct myself, “I mean, to have the recommender, not that an old man fell.”
His hair falls into his eyes as he nods. “Put him down as your recommender, and leave the rest to me.”
I gaze over at him, so incredibly thankful that he found a way into my life. “What would I do without you?”
"Don’t know, probably still be sleeping on a park bench." Luke is engrossed in his work again, and I wonder what mischief he will be getting up to tonight. I stopped asking a long time ago.
An hour or so later I finish my essays for my application and have filled in all my test scores. I look to Luke to see if he shows any signs of being done soon, but he has his usual concentration face on. “I'm gonna head out. My shift at Gale starts in an hour, and I want to grab dinner first.” Gale is the civil engineering company I have a paid internship with. As I speak three other languages (Mandarin being one of them), I'm very useful for helping with international meetings.
I pick up my things, and as I scoot my chair in, Luke abruptly realizes I've been speaking to him. “No, no we can go together. I'm not needed until later tonight, so I'm down for dinner. Where to?”
I almost roll my eyes, "Do I even have to say it? The Garden." Despite its name, The Garden serves mainly fried meats and potatoes in various forms, but they have the best kids’ meal in the entire city: two chicken tenders, apple juice, french fries, and a cookie for $2. Luke and I have consumed thousands of these in our lifetimes, and while the quality is acceptable, it got old quickly.
Luke has closed his computer and is eyeing me oddly. "Not The Garden tonight. How about we go somewhere nicer? My treat."
I arch an eyebrow. "Not a chance. You and I both know that every penny counts if you're going to take care of your mom and I'm going to pay for school. It isn't worth it."
Luke has walked around the table to stand closer to me. "I have a really great opportunity tonight," he speaks slowly and clearly then reaches for my hands by my side, his fingers brushing against mine. "It could mean big things for me." He holds my gaze, unwavering. "For you." He moves in just a little bit closer to say quietly, "For us."
I am completely confident he can feel my blood pumping through my hands or hear my heart beating or both. He can definitely see the flush on my cheeks because while I've never allowed myself to become involved with him, there's no getting around having a crush on a guy so smart, handsome, and bold.
"Then let's celebrate tomorrow," I say firmly.
"Fine." He scoops up his stuff and walks out of the library with me.
oOoOoOo
As I begin to order the most delicious and nutritious kids’ meal of all time, Luke butts in. "We'll have one double cheeseburger with fries and a Pepsi and one fried chicken wrap with a seasonal lemonade." He offers the cashier a gallant smile and some cash before I can protest. Not wanting to make a scene, I wait until we've settled into our booth to kick him (lightly) in the shin and say, "What the hell was that?"
"That was me compromising." He relaxes back into the booth. "And you've wanted that wrap for months since they added it. It's about time." I thank him and sip on my lemonade.
We start chatting about the latest shenanigans of the royal family. (Pretty Prince Perseus needs to find himself a girlfriend—what a struggle!) until our food comes.
I take my first bite. The tortilla is stale, there's more honey mustard than chicken, and I'm trying to convince myself that all lettuce is supposed to be this squishy. I beam at Luke, who appears equally unthrilled with his cheeseburger. A chime on his phone interrupts our game of pretending-this-food-is-better-than-the-kids-meal-because-it-was-way-more-expensive. He pulls it from his pocket, and his face immediately darkens. He begins texting a reply when it starts ringing. He springs up from the booth and paces to the other side of the restaurant. It's pretty empty, so I can make out his words: “What do you mean he can't come?...Well what about Ethan?...And you already asked...No way, I'm not asking her...Yes, I know what's on the line here” He looks back to me, and we hold eye contact, as I've shifted around backwards in the booth. “Fine. I'll ask. But she gets a cut, too...That's only fair." A long pause. Luke looks away, says something else, and then hangs up the phone.
When he sits back down, he looks as though he just got a call from a telemarketer, mildly annoyed. “Annabeth, I am going to ask you to do something I swore I never would.” I know where this is going, and I want my answer to be “no” so badly. But then he tells me my cut.
I am a surprisingly good getaway driver.