Chapter Text
*
CHAPTER 1: BOOK ONE – WATER BENDING
Percy Jackson wasn’t very good at being mortal.
That’s not to say he wasn’t enjoying life after, well, everything – multiple prophecies, two wars, a kidnapping, and somewhere in-between, squeezing in a trip to literal Greek hell – but normal life was … complicated. He wanted it so badly, though: to finish senior year without something trying to kill him, to make friends who didn’t carry celestial bronze, to sit at dinner with his mother and stepfather and laugh without worrying about the world ending. But after years of living on the demigod side of the line, stepping back into the mortal world felt like trying to fit a hippocampus into a kiddie pool.
Case in point:
Percy was hanging out with his new mortal friends – something that had taken actual effort. Coming into Goode High as a senior with a spotty attendance record and more expulsions than anyone cared to ask about hadn’t exactly screamed “friend material.” He was the mysterious kid everyone was curious about, but no one actually wanted to approach.
Still, after a couple of weeks, he had found a group that fit just right. Not the overachievers, not the troublemakers – just regular kids with regular hobbies and no monsters on their tail. Percy loved that. Loved the quiet, the normalcy.
Unfortunately, normal life made him look even weirder.
He had already survived the “wait – you don’t have a phone?” conversation. He never wanted to relive that. And now … this.
“We should totally watch Avatar: The Last Airbender!” Emma declared, practically bouncing in her seat.
Emma was the youngest of the bunch – only sixteen, still in her junior year – but she was Emily’s little sister. The two looked almost identical: brown hair, hazel eyes, pale skin, and names that teachers mixed up on a daily basis, despite them being in different grades.
Emily groaned. “Aren’t we a bit old for that?”
Emma looked personally offended. “Never! It’s a classic!”
Avery, lounging on the couch with a bowl of popcorn balanced on his lap, chuckled. He had warm brown skin, short curls, and an easygoing smile that made most people comfortable. “She’s not wrong,” he said. “But there’s, like, three seasons. No way we’re watching all that tonight.”
“That’s even better!” Emma shot back, still staunchly defending her choice. “We can make it a series – sixty-one episodes, sixty-one hangouts!”
Avery blinked. “You know the exact number of episodes?”
Emily sighed. “She’s obsessed. She used to make me watch it all the time when we were younger. I swear, she can quote every single episode by heart.”
Emma ignored her sister, straightened up, and held her hand high. “Okay! Vote time! All in favour of Avatar: The Last Airbender, raise your hand.”
Emily folded her arms – her silent no. Emma’s hand stayed proudly up. Avery hesitated, then shrugged and lifted his hand halfway. Three pairs of eyes turned to Percy, the deciding vote. Emma gave him the full puppy-dog stare, silently begging Percy to vote for her choice.
Percy blinked, still stuck on one tiny detail.
“Uh, Avatar: The Last … what?”
*
Perseus “Percy” Jackson was a funny guy.
Not “class clown” funny. More like mystery novel wrapped in sarcasm and sea-green eyes funny. Emma had never met anyone like him – and that was saying something, considering she went to high school with a guy who wore a cape unironically. And the thing was, he wasn’t trying to be mysterious, but somehow, he just … was. Angsty emo boys dreamed of having half his difficult to understand, unknowable aura.
For starters, he didn’t have a phone.
Now, that wasn’t the weirdest thing in the world. Plenty of parents thought technology was the devil or that social media was rotting teen brains. But Emma had met Percy’s parents – Sally Jackson-Blofis and Paul Blofis – and they were definitely not that kind of strict.
To start, Sally Jackson was possibly the sweetest human being alive. A writer and part-time confectioner “for fun,” she had greeted Emma with the kind of hug that made you forget all your problems for five seconds. She smelled like chocolate, home, and good intentions. And Paul Blofis – Mr. Blofis at school – was the fun English teacher. He was the kind of guy who gave partial marks for effort and let students write essays about Marvel movies if they made a decent enough argument. Percy said he was basically the same at home, which tracked.
Percy spoke highly of both parents. So, no, Percy’s parents weren’t the “no phones under this roof” type. And it wasn’t like they couldn’t afford one, either. When Emma asked why Percy didn’t have a phone, he had gained a funny look on his face and then proceeded to say, dead serious, “It would literally kill me.”
She had laughed, waiting for a punchline that never came. Percy had just grinned that crooked grin of his, like he knew something she didn’t.
It was kind of his thing.
Weird stuff seemed to orbit him – like he had a personal glitch in the Matrix following him around. The school’s ancient plumbing, for instance, always seemed to go haywire when he was nearby. The fountains in the courtyard had sprayed upward like geysers the first week he transferred, and Percy had been the only one to walk away dry. Then there was the thunderstorm during their mixed junior-senior field trip. Everyone else had been drenched by the downpour, but when Emma looked over, Percy’s hair was barely damp, like he had just walked through mist instead of rain.
And once – just once – she could have sworn she saw the condensation on his soda can twist toward his fingers before he opened it. But when she blinked, it was gone, and Percy was pretending nothing had happened.
He was weird, sure. But he was also funny, kind, and somehow managed to make even the most ordinary moments feel like an adventure. Which was why Emma almost dropped her popcorn when he said, with total sincerity, “Uh, Avatar: The Last … what?”
She stared at him, slack-jawed. He had to be joking. Everyone knew about Avatar. Everyone. It was sacred pop culture. A pillar of storytelling.
“Percy Jackson,” she said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
He wasn’t. His brows were furrowed in total confusion.
For a second, Emma wondered if he had grown up in some off-the-grid commune or something. Then again … knowing Percy, maybe he had.
“Well, that seals the vote,” Emma announced triumphantly, throwing her hands up like she had just declared a national holiday. “We need to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender. It’s our moral duty to educate this pop-culture plebeian.”
Emily groaned, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Emma, no –”
“Emma, yes!” She shot back, already reaching for the DVD case like it was a sacred relic.
Avery’s laugh rumbled from the couch. “Man, Percy, you’re in for it now. She gets intense about this kind of stuff.”
Percy just blinked between them, still looking like someone had started speaking a foreign language. “Um … okay?” He said uncertainly, his usual calm completely thrown off.
Emma grinned. She popped open the DVD case with theatrical flair, slid the first disc into the player, and grabbed the remote. The opening menu came up with its familiar music, and she pointed the remote at the screen like a wand. “Sit back and pay attention, Jackson,” she said, settling into her spot with a victorious smirk. “Class is officially in session. You’re about to be schooled.”
*
Percy hadn’t expected to be captivated by a cartoon. He hadn’t watched much TV growing up, so he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Maybe some goofy voices, bright colours, and a few corny jokes? What he didn’t expect was to feel something stir inside him – the same pull in his chest that he usually got when the tide called his name.
On screen, a brown-skinned girl with bright blue eyes lifted her hands, and the water moved. Not just splashed, not just sloshed – it danced.
“Katara,” Emma had called her.
In the opening scene, Percy leaned forward without realising it. He could see how Katara’s fingers traced invisible lines in the air, how the water followed her movements like it trusted her completely. She wasn’t forcing it. She was guiding it. A sphere of water holding a fish appeared and moved through the air smoothly, like it belonged there.
Percy thought back to his own fights – how he had summoned towering waves, split rivers, and crushed monsters with the ocean’s fury. Power had come easy to him. Raw strength and instinct had always been easy.
But this – this was something else.
Katara froze a wave mid-motion, suspended droplets glittering around her like tiny stars. Percy blinked, breath catching. She looked surprised, too – she wasn’t even good at it yet – but there was grace in her movements, intention in the way she reached for the water. He remembered standing at the edge of the Atlantic once, feeling its pulse under his feet, and now he wondered … had he ever really listened to it? Or had he just shouted commands and hoped the sea would obey?
“Dude,” Avery laughed, snapping him out of it. “You look like you’re watching a documentary on your long-lost family or something.”
Percy blinked, realising everyone was staring at him. Emma was grinning like she had just converted a non-believer. Emily looked vaguely amused.
“You’re seriously into this,” Emma teased. “You haven’t blinked in ten minutes.”
Percy rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it off. “It’s … cool, I guess. The animation’s nice.”
Avery chuckled. “Sure, man. Animation. Not the magic water tricks.”
Percy ignored him, eyes flicking back to the screen.
When Katara stood protectively in front of her brother and used a wave of ice to trap the Fire Nation soldiers, Percy felt his heart beat a little faster. The control she showed – the way she shaped the water’s movement instead of just unleashing it – was … inspiring. He found himself thinking about the countless times he had called the ocean to his aid. How rough, how imprecise he had been. What if he didn’t have to rely on sheer power? What if he could refine it – shape it, like she did?
As the credits rolled, Percy realised his friends were talking, laughing about something, but the words didn’t stick. There was only one thought in his head: I can do that.
He wanted to try.
He wanted to learn.
“Can we, uh …” Percy hesitated, glancing at Emma. “Play the next one?”
Emily groaned. “You’ve created a monster, Em.”
Emma’s eyes lit up like she had been waiting for that exact sentence. “Knew you’d love it!”
By the time they reached the end of the fifth episode, Percy was practically glued to the screen. There hadn’t been a lot of screen time for more of, what Avery dubbed, water tricks. But the rhythm of Katara’s movements, the calm patience she showed – it felt like watching someone discover the same part of themselves he had always ignored.
When the final credits rolled on the tenth episode, and almost four hours had passed, Emma started packing up the DVD. Emily collected the popcorn bowls, and Avery began to fold the blankets left out. Percy, while he cleaned up the empty cups and candy wrappers, cleared his throat. “Hey, uh … mind if I borrow that? You know, to … finish it.”
Avery laughed. “Man’s hooked. Didn’t even know what it was a few hours ago.”
Emma beamed, handing him the DVD case like a priestess bestowing a holy relic. “Welcome to the cult. Take care of it, Jackson.”
Percy took it, smiling sheepishly. “Promise I’ll return it in one piece.”
What he didn’t say was that he wasn’t planning to just watch it.
He was planning to learn from it.
*
Percy practically begged his mother to let him take the portable DVD player into his bedroom for the night.
It was an ancient thing by mortal technology standards – thick, grey, and heavy enough that Percy suspected it could double as a weapon in a monster attack. Sally had bought it years ago from a second-hand electronics store, back when even a cheap television had been out of their budget, but it had spent most of its recent existence forgotten on the highest shelf of the hallway closet. Percy had needed to stand on his toes to reach it, and when he pulled it down, a layer of dust came with it.
He wiped the cover carefully with the sleeve of his shirt, then went over it again with a damp cloth because Emma’s DVDs were going inside that thing, and Percy refused to be the idiot who returned them scratched. Monsters he could handle. Apologising to a new mortal friend after destroying something she had trusted him with felt considerably more dangerous.
He even made Sally show him how to work the machine – twice, because Percy didn’t understand how most technology worked, let alone something that was a small, compact TV.
“So, the shiny side goes down?” He asked, hovering the disc uncertainly over the tray. “And I press this button to open it? And this one starts the episode?”
“That’s generally what the button with the triangle means.”
“Okay, but what if it freezes?”
“You turn it off and turn it back on.”
“What if that doesn’t work?”
“Then you ask Paul.”
Percy narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t know how this thing works either, do you?”
Sally patted his cheek. “I know exactly enough to make it someone else’s problem.”
By the time dinner was ready, Percy had tested the player, checked the charger, inspected the first disc for scratches, and arranged the remaining discs in order on his desk. He had meant to tell Sally and Paul about his afternoon at Emma’s house, but through most of dinner, he was too busy thinking about what would happen in the next episode. His leg bounced beneath the table hard enough to make the silverware tremble. He tried to stop whenever he noticed. Within seconds, it started again.
Across the table, Sally looked at Paul. Paul looked back at Sally. The two of them shared one of those silent married-person conversations Percy had never learned to translate, although this one was easy enough to understand. They were amused by him. They also thought they were being subtle about it. They were not.
Percy ignored them and finished eating at a speed that would have impressed the harpies at Camp Half-Blood. Then he carried the plates to the sink and attacked the dishes with equal determination.
The faucet blasted on so strongly that water struck the bottom of the sink and sprayed across the counter. Percy jumped back.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
He turned the tap down. A second later, the stream surged again, curling toward his hands as if it were every bit as impatient as he was.
His excitement was affecting his powers.
That was mildly embarrassing, but at least it was happening in his own kitchen. If the pipes had started rattling at Emma’s house, he wasn’t sure how he would have explained it. Sorry about the plumbing. The water gets emotionally compromised around me.
By the time the final plate was rinsed and placed in the drying rack, Percy had left droplets across half the counter and dampened the front of his shirt. He hurriedly wiped everything down, grabbed the DVD player, and hugged it against his chest.
“And remember,” Sally called as he started out of the kitchen, “you have to turn it off and go to sleep before midnight.”
Percy stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder.
Sally folded her arms, visibly trying to arrange her face into something stern and parental. It might have worked better if the corners of her mouth hadn’t been twitching. “Tonight is a school night,” she continued, “and as your mother, I need to pretend there is at least some semblance of order in this house. This is it. I’m putting my foot down. Midnight curfew.”
Percy snorted.
The idea of having a curfew was strange enough. The idea of Sally Jackson putting her foot down with him was even stranger. They had never really had that kind of relationship. She had always given him rules, of course, but those rules had mostly involved hiding from monsters, surviving boarding school, and not provoking Gabe when Percy was younger. Sally had never needed to worry about whether he stayed up too late watching cartoons. There had always been something more important to worry about.
A midnight television curfew felt ridiculously normal. Percy liked it more than he wanted to admit.
“Fine,” he said. “Midnight.”
“And I mean it.”
“Definitely.”
“No starting another episode at eleven fifty-five.”
“I would never.”
Before Percy could escape, Paul leaned back in his chair and regarded him curiously. “What is it that’s got you so wound up, anyway?”
Percy’s arms tightened around the DVD player. Heat crept into his cheeks before he could stop it. He suddenly had no idea how to answer. He had fought titans and giants. He had survived Tartarus. He had helped save the world twice. Now he was standing in his mother’s kitchen, embarrassed to admit that he was desperate to watch a children’s cartoon.
Paul noticed his expression, and his teasing smile softened.
“You know you can tell us anything, right?”
Percy grimaced, though he couldn’t help smiling a little. “Thanks, but it isn’t anything serious. It’s just a TV show my friends showed me.”
“Oh, that’s right!” Sally’s attempt at sternness vanished immediately. “You went to that nice girl’s house today. You barely mentioned it during dinner.” Her expression sharpened with familiar maternal concern. “How did it go? No surprise monster attacks? Nobody noticed anything unusual? The mortals weren’t unkind about – well, anything?”
Percy’s face grew even hotter.
Most kids worried about whether they had said something embarrassing while hanging out with new friends. Percy had to worry about whether he had behaved convincingly enough to pass as human.
“Everything went fine,” he said quickly.
Sally raised her eyebrows.
Percy realised that fine was the word he usually used when he had been chased by monsters but hadn’t required immediate medical attention.
“I mean, it was great,” he corrected. “Really great. Nothing attacked us. Nobody figured anything out. Emma showed me this TV show – or it isn’t new, apparently, but it’s new to me – and she lent me the DVDs so I could finish it.” He lifted the player slightly, as though presenting evidence. “We already watched around ten episodes at her house.”
Paul laughed. “I never knew my kid would become a binge-watcher if he was given the chance.”
Percy opened his mouth to ask what a binge-watcher was, but the question disappeared before it reached his tongue.
My kid. Paul had said it so casually. He hadn’t paused or stumbled over the words. He probably hadn’t even realised he had said them.
A quiet warmth bloomed beneath Percy’s ribs.
For most of his life, family had felt like something fragile – something that had to be protected because the world was always waiting to tear it away from him. Yet here Paul was, claiming Percy as his kid while gently making fun of his newfound obsession with an animated television show. As though it were obvious. As though Percy belonged to him and Sally and this small, ordinary kitchen.
Percy ducked his head before either of them could notice how much two little words had affected him.
“Okay,” he said, edging backward into the hallway. “I’m going to watch the rest now.”
“Before midnight,” Sally reminded him.
“Before midnight,” Percy agreed.
He turned as soon as he cleared the doorway and hurried down the hall. Behind him, he heard Paul ask Sally whether they should start taking bets on how long Percy would last before breaking the curfew.
Percy chose not to respond.
He carried the DVD player into his bedroom, shut the door, and set it carefully on the desk. Emma’s discs lay waiting in their case. He checked the order one more time before placing the next one into the machine, shiny side down, exactly as his mother had shown him.
He wanted to finish the entire first season that night. He wanted to find out what happened to Aang and Katara and Sokka, whether they reached the North Pole, and how much stronger Katara became along the way.
But more than anything, he wanted to see what else water bending could do.
Percy had spent years thinking of water as power. Waves, currents, hurricanes, floods – something vast that answered when he reached for it and crashed down on whatever stood in his way. Katara handled it differently. Even when she lacked experience, she tried to shape the water. She held it suspended in the air, drew it into smaller forms, froze it and changed its direction. She treated water as more than a weapon or a force of nature. In her hands, it became a tool with a hundred possible uses.
Percy couldn’t stop thinking about that.
He pressed play and climbed onto his bed, leaning forward as the screen flickered to life. Maybe Avatar was only a cartoon. That didn’t mean it couldn’t teach the son of Poseidon a few things.
*
By the time Percy realised he had broken curfew, he had already finished the entire first season. The final episode had ended, the credits were crawling up the tiny screen, and his bedroom was dark except for the pale glow of the portable DVD player. Percy blinked at the clock beside his bed as though staring at it long enough might convince the numbers to change.
They didn’t.
Midnight had come and gone a while ago.
Percy felt guilty, but only mildly. His mother wasn’t going to ground him or confiscate the DVDs for the rest of his life. Sally would mostly be upset because he had school in the morning and would spend the entire day exhausted. She was always worrying about whether he slept enough, ate enough, and remembered that ordinary human bodies required more maintenance than demigods generally bothered to give them.
Still, it wasn’t entirely his fault. Every time an episode ended, Percy had told himself he would watch only one more. Then something dramatic would happen, or Aang would learn something new, or Katara would bend water in a way Percy had never imagined, and suddenly the next episode was starting. He had been completely caught by the story. He liked Aang, who carried a responsibility far too large for him while somehow still finding reasons to laugh. He liked Sokka, whose sarcasm and tendency to throw himself into situations without powers Percy found painfully relatable. Most of all, though, Percy liked Katara.
His favourite episode by far had been The Waterbending Master.
That had been the first time he had seen two skilled waterbenders truly fight: Katara against Master Pakku, the Northern Water Tribe teacher who had refused to train her because she was a girl.
Percy had spent most of the episode wanting to reach through the screen and throttle the old man.
He could imagine exactly how Katara had felt. Maybe Percy had never been denied training because of his gender, but he understood what it was like to have someone look at him and decide what he could or couldn’t do before he had been given a chance. Teachers had done it because of his grades. Campers had done it because he was new and unclaimed. Gods had done it because he was young, mortal by their standards, and therefore supposedly incapable of understanding anything.
Percy knew what that kind of anger felt like. It burned beneath the skin until holding it in became more painful than letting it out.
Katara had been furious. Percy had recognised it in every sharp movement and every lash of water she sent across the training grounds. But her anger hadn’t made her careless. It had driven her forward while she adapted to everything Pakku threw at her.
She had been outmatched, but she hadn’t been helpless.
That was the part Percy couldn’t stop thinking about.
Katara had strength and talent, especially for someone who had taught herself nearly everything she knew. More importantly, she was creative. She didn’t simply hurl the largest possible wave at Pakku and hope it knocked him over. She changed the shape of the water. She redirected it. She froze it at exactly the right moment. At one point, she sent thin sheets of ice spinning through the air like sharpened discs.
Percy had sat straight up when he saw that.
It was genius.
He had frozen water before, but mostly by accident or necessity. He had never stopped to think about turning ice into a weapon – not merely trapping someone inside it, but shaping it into something small, fast and precise. He could summon waves large enough to sweep monsters away, pull water from pipes, make rivers change direction and command enough of the ocean to terrify people who knew exactly who his father was.
But could he make a sheet of ice no wider than his hand? Could he control its thickness? Its speed? Could he send it spinning toward a target and stop it a fraction of an inch before impact?
Percy had no idea.
That realisation should have bothered him. Instead, it made his fingers itch with excitement.
He wanted to keep watching. The DVD case Emma had lent him contained the next season, and Percy could already see the spine marked Book Two: Earth from where he sat. He wanted to know what happened next, but more than that, he wanted to see what else Katara learned. He wanted more water bending battles, more techniques, more ideas he could try for himself.
His hand had almost reached the next disc when a quiet voice came from the doorway. “Perce?”
Percy flinched so hard he nearly knocked the player off the bed.
Sally stood in the open doorway wearing her robe, her hair mussed from sleep. One hand rested against the frame while the other rubbed wearily at her eyes. She took in the darkened room, the DVD player, and Percy hunched over the glowing screen like a criminal caught halfway through a robbery.
Her expression softened into a tired frown.
“You have school tomorrow, honey.”
“I know.” Percy glanced guiltily at the clock. “Sorry, Mom. I got caught up in it. I didn’t realise how much time had passed.”
Sally let out a long breath and shook her head. She wasn’t angry, though, which somehow made Percy feel slightly worse. “You’re going to be exhausted.”
“It’s not like I haven’t saved the world on less sleep,” Percy said.
The joke slipped out. Sally’s mouth curved despite herself, although worry lingered in her eyes. “It’s a good thing you only have school tomorrow, then. I’m not sure we should test whether the third apocalypse would be the charm.”
Percy laughed, keeping the sound quiet in the sleeping apartment.
Sally stepped farther into the room. “Seriously, though, what is so interesting that it held your attention this long?”
Percy hesitated. Then, reluctantly, he turned the DVD player around so she could see the menu. Across the screen, in large letters, were the words Avatar: The Last Airbender – Book One: Water.
Sally squinted at it. Her hand rose toward the top of her head, searching for glasses that weren’t there, before she remembered she had left them in her bedroom. Percy took pity on her. “It’s about a world where some people can control the elements,” he explained. “Air, earth, fire, and … well, water. They call it bending.”
Sally looked from the screen to him.
Percy rubbed the back of his neck. “I might’ve gotten a little carried away watching the water bending.”
Understanding warmed her face immediately. “Oh, Perce.”
“I’ve never seen anyone else with powers like mine,” he said, the words emerging faster now that he had started. “Not really. I know they aren’t actual people. I know it’s a cartoon, and whoever made it probably didn’t expect a real son of Poseidon to be taking notes, but they can do some of the same things I can.”
Sally sat on the edge of his bed, listening.
“They’re doing it differently,” Percy continued. He kept his voice low, although his excitement made that difficult. “I’ve always just told the water what I needed it to do, and mostly it listened. If I needed a wave, I made a wave. If I needed something to sink, I pulled it under. But the water benders shape it into things. They make whips and shields and blades out of ice. They use tiny amounts of water and control every part of it.”
He glanced toward the frozen image on the screen. “I think they might be better at it than I am.”
Sally’s eyebrows rose. “Better than the boy who caused Mount Saint Helens to erupt?”
“But that wasn’t water,” Percy countered.
“You also created a personal hurricane,” Sally said. “And you fought a god in the ocean when you were twelve.”
Percy frowned. “Okay, you’re making it difficult for me to be humble here.”
Sally laughed softly.
“I don’t mean they’re more powerful,” Percy said. That distinction had become clear as he watched. Katara could never have raised the waves Percy commanded during the war, at least not yet. “They have more control. Watching Katara fight made me realise how much I don’t know. I could probably overpower most water benders, but I don’t think I could do half the small things they do.”
He looked down at his hands. “I never had anyone who could properly teach me. Camp taught me sword fighting and Ancient Greek and how not to get eaten. Nobody ever gave me lessons in being Poseidon’s son.”
Sally’s expression changed at that. The fondness remained, but something sadder entered it, too.
Percy hadn’t meant the words as an accusation. Poseidon had helped him at times, but help wasn’t the same as instruction. His father had given him powers capable of changing the course of wars and apparently expected Percy to discover how they worked through trial and error – but mostly error.
“So, yeah,” Percy finished, suddenly self-conscious. “I got excited. It was nice seeing something I shared with a character. Even if it isn’t real.”
Sally smiled and brushed his hair away from his forehead as she had done when he was little. “You don’t have to justify it to me,” she said. “I may not completely understand what it feels like, but I understand why it matters to you.”
Percy returned her smile.
Sally nodded toward the DVDs. “Why don’t we watch the rest together?”
His face brightened. “Really?”
“Really. I want to see what has my son plotting new ways to terrorise the plumbing.” She held out her hand. “But not tonight. Tonight, you need to sleep.”
Percy looked longingly at the next disc.
For one reckless moment, he considered arguing. Then he noticed how tired his mother looked and remembered that she had woken up to check on him. Besides, if she watched the show with him, he wouldn’t have to invent a terrible explanation when she inevitably found him freezing pieces of water around the apartment.
He shut down the player and handed it over. Then he yawned, his eyes watering. “Oh, yeah,” Percy said with a sheepish smile. “I’m definitely going to regret staying up this late.”
Sally leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “I’ll remind you of that when I’m dragging you out of bed in the morning.” She carried the DVD player toward the doorway. Before leaving, she glanced back. “Good night, my little water bender.”
Percy groaned and pulled his blanket over his face. “Please never call me that again.”
Sally’s quiet laughter followed her into the hall.
Only when his bedroom door closed did Percy lower the blanket. The room had gone dark but sleep still felt impossibly far away. His mind remained full of rushing water and spinning ice, every technique replaying itself behind his eyes. Tomorrow, he had school. After that, however, he was going to find somewhere private, somewhere with a lot of water, and he was going to see whether the son of Poseidon could learn to bend.
*