Chapter Text
ACT ONE
"Imagine that the world is made out of love. Now imagine that it isn't." —Richard Siken
It's the summer of 2003 and Annabeth has just turned ten. She's feeling pretty proud of herself, actually. Being born in July is a drag when almost all your classmates get to have their birthdays before yours, but she's finally caught up. She got a puppy for her birthday, too—a fluffy golden retriever that's already two months old. His name's King, and he's currently tugging her along by his lead, nose to the floor as he takes in all the intriguing smells of the Virginian country path they're walking along.
Helen told her not to go too far, to stay in sight of their estate house. Annabeth rolled her eyes at that, but Helen's look of annoyance told her she would regret it if Helen had to drive out to find her if she got lost.
King picks up the pace, drawing a surprised laugh out of Annabeth. Even though he's only a puppy, Annabeth's light enough that he almost drags her over. They hurtle along the road, Annabeth's sandals slipping with every other step on the loose gravel.
Eventually, Annabeth runs out of breath. "Slow down, King!" Mercifully, he does just as they reach a fork in the road. Annabeth notices a boy about her age sitting by the wayside, elbows resting on his knees. His red, faded t-shirt is torn-up and his left eye has swollen up with an indigo bruise. There's a battered bike lying on the ground next to him. He doesn't seem to notice her. "Hey, how'd you get that black eye?" she asks.
The boy looks up, startled. "Oh, um..." He looks left and right, as though searching for an escape. "Fell off my bike."
Annabeth folds her arms. "You must not be very good at riding it. My dad says I'm great on a bike."
The boy looks offended. He stands up, blowing a strand of his raven hair out of his face. "Excuse you. I could beat you in a race anytime."
She rolls her eyes. "Sure you could, big man."
"You're not afraid to speak your mind, are you?"
Annabeth puts a hand on her hip. "And that's a bad thing because…?"
The boy laughs, sheepish. "I guess it isn't. I'm Percy, by the way. What's your name?" He holds out an oil-stained hand.
Sceptical, she shakes it. "Annabeth," she replies. Standing closer to him, she can see how green his eyes are. The left one looks even greener, contrasting with his purple bruise. She opens her mouth to say something, but King interrupts her with a loud, insistent bark.
Percy seems enamoured by him. He crouches down, running a hand through his golden fur. "I like your dog," he remarks. "What's its name?"
Annabeth grins. "King. I got him today—for my birthday. He's cute, right?"
"Yeah." Percy ruffles King's fur for a moment longer before standing up again. "It's your birthday? How old are you?"
"Ten," Annabeth says proudly. "What about you?"
He looks sheepish. "Ten," he says. Then, quieter, "In a month."
Annabeth laughs. "Ha! I'm older than you. Better respect your elders."
He frowns at her. "You're not that much older than me."
"Whatever." Annabeth looks on down the road. They're pretty close to town. "Wanna walk King with me for a while? We could go get an ice-cream."
"An ice-cream?" He looks down. "I don't have any money."
Annabeth shrugs. "I'll pay. I've got some birthday money with me." King tugs on his lead, pulling her forward. She turns back over her shoulder, beckoning Percy. "Come on!"
The two of them get on like a house on fire—Annabeth starts hanging out with Percy almost every day. They go on bike rides, racing over the rolling Virginian hills before collapsing on the grass, sprawled in a heap. They walk King together in the mornings, eager to chat. Annabeth is somewhat enchanted by his wry smiles and dumb jokes. His companionship feels warm and comfortable, like a well-worn coat.
Sometimes, Annabeth is afraid their friendship will expire at the end of the summer. What if they lose contact when they go back to school? Percy never expresses any concerns like that, though, so Annabeth decides it's better to enjoy the moments as they come rather than waste time worrying about the future.
The first time Percy visits their estate house, he can't stop looking around, wide-eyed. "What's so interesting?" Annabeth asks, curious.
He stares at her, incredulous. "It's all so big. Your garden's massive and your house is a freaking mansion. I wanna live here."
She grins, pleased that he likes it. She's never seen her home as anything special, but Percy's words make her bubble with happiness. "Wait 'til you see the swing," she boasts.
Percy's jaw drops. "There's a swing?"
Annabeth's dad is pleased to see that she's made a new friend, while Helen fusses over Percy's torn clothes, fading black eye and unbrushed hair. "Dear God, who's looking after you?" she fusses as she presses a bottle of homemade lemonade and a Tupperware filled with food into Percy's hands. "Here you are, darling. Go eat in the sun. If you want any more, ask. You look like you could do with some more meat on your bones."
Percy stares at the food with reverence. "Thank you," he says carefully, as though he's worried it'll be taken off him at any minute.
Helen gives him a fond look and ruffles his hair. "Don't be silly. You deserve it, both of you. Right, Annabeth?"
She grins. "Yep. Let's go!" Dragging Percy down the porch steps, she breaks into a run. "I know a place we should sit."
Annabeth leads Percy to a small wood by their estate. She collapses onto a mossy patch of ground, letting the sun wash over her. She sighs, closing her eyes. "It's so warm. I love it."
Percy sits down next to her in the shade, crossing his legs. He places their food gingerly between them and wipes his temple with his sleeve. "You're crazy. It should be illegal for it to be this hot."
Annabeth turns her head, not bothering to sit up. "Wimp."
He rolls his eyes. "Just 'cause I don't wanna melt doesn't make me a wimp."
"Whatever," she replies. Propping herself up on her elbow, she unscrews the lemonade's cap and offers it to Percy. "Here, try some."
With a murmur of thanks, he raises it to his lips. As he tips the bottle back, his face lights up. "Wow! That's amazing."
"Right? Me and Helen made it. We have a lemon tree in the greenhouse."
Percy hands her the bottle. Shaking his head, he says, "Only you would have an actual lemon tree."
"We also grow oranges. Figs, too. Though I don't really like them all that much—they're too sweet."
Percy's brow furrows. "What's a fig?"
Annabeth giggles. "A weird kind of fruit. My dad eats them all the time, even though Helen tells him off 'cause they're really fibrous."
"Fibrous?"
"I asked her, and apparently it's something that makes you poop loads."
Percy wrinkles his nose. "Why would you grow it, then?"
"Exactly! I've tried telling her the same thing."
They sit there for a while, talking and laughing. Eventually, they dive into the Tupperware. Helen's packed them PB&J sandwiches, all carefully cut into triangles with the crusts sliced off. The sound Percy makes when he bites into his is obscene. "I would give my life for this sandwich."
"Same," Annabeth decides. They eat the sandwiches quickly, worn out by all the running-around they've been doing. When they're finished with all the food and lemonade, Annabeth gets up, stretching. "Okay. You wanna go on the swing?"
Percy's face explodes into a grin. "That's not even a question."
They return the empty bottle and Tupperware to Helen, declaring that they're going on the swing by the hay bales. Helen grimaces. "Be safe, alright? That swing's high enough that you could break your leg if you fell."
"We'll be careful, don't worry," Annabeth yells over her shoulder, already leading Percy over to the huge, wooden barn next to their house.
"What do you use the barn for?" Percy asks as Annabeth slides the bolt open.
"Just storage," she replies. "It's left over from when there used to be a farm here."
"For animals?"
Annabeth nods. "Yeah. We still have a couple of cows, though." She grunts, pushing the heavy door open. It creaks at first, but soon complies.
Annabeth walks inside first, Percy following behind her. "Woah."
The ceiling of the barn arches over them, held up by large wood panels. Dozens of hay bales are stacked up on either side of the barn, creating walls. A rope hangs from the ceiling, tied over a support beam. A wooden seat is attached to the bottom, hanging several metres up in the air. "C'mon. We gotta climb up to it," she tells him, already pulling herself up onto a hay bale.
The swing hangs a metre out from the top hay bale. Percy has to hold onto Annabeth's arm to stop her from falling as she hangs right over the edge to grab the wooden seat.
Once it's in her hand, they fall back, laughing. "We can't let Helen know we did that," she says. "I'm meant to use a stick to get it."
Percy nods solemnly, raising a finger to his lips. "I won't tell."
"Wanna go first?" she asks.
He shakes his head quickly. "No, you go."
With a cry of glee, Annabeth tightens her grip on the rope and leaps out, landing on the swing in mid-air. She flies across the barn, knuckles white from holding on. Her feet thud on the hay bales on the other side. Pumping her fist, she lets out a victorious whoop. "Yes!" she crows.
Percy's grinning. Annabeth doesn't think she's ever seen him so excited. "Okay, swing back! I want a try."
Time becomes nothing as they swing back and forth, more and more daring every time. The sunlight filtering through the cracks in the barn's walls slowly peters out as evening descends, but neither of them notice the day slipping away.
Finally, they jump off one last time, both of them sitting on the swing. It's chaotic; their legs fly everywhere as they swing wildly, clinging onto each other for dear life. "We're gonna die," Percy groans as Annabeth kicks off from the hay bale again, laughing.
Below them, Helen steps through the barn's door. Hands on her hips, she shakes her head with an amused smile. "It's nearly seven," she calls. "When does Percy need to be home? I can give him a lift as I need to pick Bobby and Matthew up from their guitar lessons."
They stumble off the swing, righting themselves. Percy's face has gone ashen. "Seven?" he says. "Oh, God. I was meant to be back an hour ago." He quickly climbs down, Annabeth close behind him.
"I'm sure it's fine," she says. "Your parents will understand, right?"
Percy clenches and unclenches his fists, breaths coming fast. "I need to be back," he mumbles. "I've missed dinner."
Annabeth takes his arm gently. Why's he acting like this? "Stop stressing," she says. "It isn't that late."
"Don't worry, darling," Helen says. "I'll drive you home now. Where do you live?"
At that, Percy shakes his head violently. "No. No, thank you. I've got my bike."
"I'd rather you didn't cycle back alone at this hour. I can put your bike in the trunk—"
"It's fine, I don't want to trouble you. Thank you for having me," he says. "I really liked the sandwiches."
Helen reaches out, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Percy, I'm telling you that this isn't any trouble. It's unsafe for you to cycle home. Please, let me help."
Percy stiffens at her touch, but then closes his eyes and relaxes a second later. "Okay," he mumbles, but it's almost soundless. "Thank you."
Helen smiles. "There we are. It's all gonna be okay. Annabeth, go get your shoes on. You can come too."
Percy's head whips towards her. "Wait. I don't want Annabeth to come."
She folds her arms, hurt. "Why not?"
"Just…" Percy hunches his shoulders, growing small. "Please don't."
Annabeth glares at him. "Don't be stupid. I wanna come. Helen, tell him I'm coming."
There's a complicated look on Helen's face. She's looking at Percy, and something like understanding crosses her eyes. "Actually, Annabeth, could you go help your father with the dishes? He's been working all day and I bet he's tired."
Annabeth glares at Helen. "But—" she stutters. "Why?"
Helen shoots her a look. "I'll see you in a bit, dear. Come on, Percy. Let's go get your bike in the car."
Percy seems apologetic. "I'll see you soon, Annabeth." He pulls her into a hug, resting his head briefly on her shoulder. "Bye," he finishes. With that, Helen takes him to the car.
Annabeth is left standing in the barn, upset and alone.
A whole week passes without any glimpse of Percy. Annabeth slowly grows more and more frustrated, unable to work out why Percy's suddenly avoiding her. One evening, she vents her frustrations to her dad while watching him chop vegetables. "I don't get it," she groans, languishing on one of the stools next to the island. "Doesn't he miss me?"
Her dad chuckles, picking up the chopping board to scrape the vegetables into the saucepan on the heat behind him. "I'm not sure I have any answers, Annabeth," he replies. "Do you miss him?"
"Obviously. But he's made himself clear—he doesn't want me around. I just wanna know why."
"Have you tried talking to him?"
"I can't try talking to him. I don't even know where he lives." She slumps forward, resting her chin on her forearms. "Another thing he's hiding from me," she mutters.
Frederick stifles another laugh. "I'm sure everything will be fine, love. In the meantime, will you wash these potatoes for me?"
Annabeth reluctantly gets down from her stool. When she washes the potatoes, she accidentally sprays water everywhere with how ferociously she does it.
Frederick sighs, disappointed. "Annabeth, really? You don't need to imbue the poor potatoes with your anger, righteous as it may be."
Annabeth grins. "Whoops."
The next morning, Helen wrenches Annabeth's warm quilt off her, waking her up. Hands on her hips, she demands, "Walk King. I've got guests coming over first thing and he's way too excitable."
Annabeth covers her head with her pillow. "Can't you do it?" she mumbles.
Helen grabs her pillow, forcing her to fully emerge from dreamland. "No," she says. "He's your dog. Take responsibility." With that, she shoves King's blue lead into Annabeth's hands and storms out, calling, "Oh, and don't forget to put your laundry away!" Bleakly, Annabeth shuts her eyes again for a moment before groaning and swinging her feet out of bed.
Luckily, King isn't poor company. It's early, and the birds are only just relaxing into their morning song. Annabeth hums along with them, spirits somehow lifted. King pants, trotting along beside her. He's getting bigger, which Annabeth doesn't mind; it only means there's more dog to cuddle.
She walks through town, peering into shops. Most of them are still shut, though there's quite a few pedestrians walking about. It's not like Annabeth can buy anything, anyway—she already blew all her birthday money on buying treats for her and Percy.
Percy. Just like that, her heart sinks again. Suddenly King's tail-wagging and playful barking is more annoying than endearing. She wishes the birds would shut up.
She turns the corner, walking past a mechanic's. A familiar figure walks out of it, dragging a mangled bike behind him. "Is that…?" she wonders. She grins, running towards the figure. "Percy!"
He turns around, startled by the sound of her voice. A slow smile spreads across his face. "Annabeth. Hi."
As he crouches to pet King, Annabeth folds her arms. "Is that all I get?" she asks crossly. "No explanation, just a measly hi?"
He looks embarrassed. "Sorry. I've, uh…been busy."
For the first time, Annabeth notices his split lip. "Gosh, that looks painful," she says. "What happened?"
He glances down to his bike. "Had an accident."
"You need to stop doing that," Annabeth tells him, gathering him into a hug. He's warm in her arms. "You must be the most clumsy person I know."
His resulting grin is crooked, marred by his sore lip. "That's me. The clumsiest."
"Is that why you were in there?" she asks, gesturing to the mechanic shop. "To get your bike fixed?"
He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. But they wouldn't fix it for me 'cause I don't have any money and I'm only ten."
Annabeth chews on the inside of her cheek. She hasn't realised his birthday's come and gone. "Happy birthday," she tells him. "When was it?"
"Yesterday," he says softly. "August 18th."
Annabeth is quiet for a moment. "I think my dad might be able to fix your bike," she offers. "He fixed Matthew's when he flew off a ramp."
Percy looks hopeful, but the expression is immediately dampened. "I can't ask your dad to do that for me."
Annabeth scoffs. "Don't be stupid. He won't mind. You need your bike to get to my place, anyway."
Percy looks confused. "I'm allowed to come back around?"
"Of course, dummy."
Percy lets his bike clatter onto the concrete, smiling ear to ear as he throws his arms around her. "I'm glad."
She enjoys the hug for a moment, then pushes him away. "But you better not ignore me for a whole week ever again."
Percy's still smiling. "I won't. I promise I won't."
They walk together back to Annabeth's estate. She's floating on the feeling of them being friends again, and is practically bouncing when they step through Annabeth's door. She lets King off his lead. "Hey, Helen! Percy's here!"
Percy looks a little uncomfortable as he wheels his broken bike through the hall, resting it against the banister. From here, they can hear the chatter of people in the kitchen—Helen's guests. "Are you sure this is okay?" he asks uncertainly.
She rolls her eyes. "Duh."
They walk into the kitchen. Helen beams when she sees them. "Oh, Percy! I was wondering when I'd see you around here again, darling."
He smiles, bashful. "Hi, Helen."
Two women are standing around the island, talking. Helen introduces them. "Annabeth, Percy, this is Georgie and Mya. They're my coworkers."
Georgie waves, while Mya grins. "Oh, how sweet. Is this the daughter you were telling us about, Helen?" Mya asks.
"Yeah," Annabeth says. "Do you want some lemonade? Me and Helen made it."
Georgie laughs, enamoured. "Thank you, but we're alright. Your stepmom's just fixing us some coffee before we all head out."
"Do you need anything, darling?" Helen asks.
"Is Dad working? Percy needs help fixing his bike."
Helen grimaces, offering Percy a sympathetic look. "How'd you break it?"
Percy looks uncomfortable. "Crashed it," he mumbles.
"Well, Frederick's out in the garage. He's off work today, so you're in luck."
Annabeth takes Percy and his bike to the garage. The sliding door is open, and Annabeth hears a loud thump, followed by her dad muttering a curse under his breath. "Dad?" She calls.
"Yeah?"
"Can you help us with something? It won't be long."
Frederick emerges from the garage, wiping a bead of sweat off his temple. His short, riotous blond curls are held back by a headband. "Oh, Percy," he says, surprised. "You and Annabeth made up, then?"
Annabeth glares at him as Percy shuffles his feet. "Shut up, Dad. We need help fixing Percy's bike."
Percy shows him the bike. Frederick hums, rubbing his chin. "It's pretty badly damaged," he assesses, "but Matthew's was almost as bad. When did you break it?"
"Friday," Percy replies. So, the day he was late home, Annabeth thinks. "I really appreciate this, by the way, sir," he adds.
Her dad laughs. "Wow, what lovely Southern manners," he remarks. "If only Annabeth was as polite as you."
She kicks his ankle, which succeeds only in drawing another laugh from him. "Sorry, darling. Now, let's see what we can do for this bike."
He takes some tools out, explaining how they work to Percy, who hangs onto his every word. Annabeth watches, intrigued. Instead of doing all the heavy lifting himself, her dad shows Percy what to do and lets him do it himself. "So he'll be in a better position to fix it next time," he explains to her.
It takes only half an hour to sort Percy's bike out. By the end, he's beaming. "Thank you, sir," he grins. He hops onto the bike and circles Annabeth, who bursts out laughing.
"Careful, or you'll crash it again," she warns him.
He rolls his eyes. "Nah, I won't."
He lets Annabeth sit on the seat, leaning forward on the pedals so there's room. "Hold on," he tells her.
"I could just go grab my own bike, you know."
"Yeah, but this'll be more fun!" With that, he pushes off and cycles hard towards Annabeth's gate. They fly through.
Annabeth squeals, holding onto Percy as tight as she can. "This is so dangerous!"
"It'd be boring if it wasn't," he calls over his shoulder. They go over a bump on the worn gravel path, jolting them. Still, they don't fall. Percy's a good cyclist.
They make it back to Annabeth's house in good time. He drops her off, flushed and laughing. "See you tomorrow," he says.
She smiles. "Of course. Don't be late."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Annabeth goes back inside, smiling like an idiot as she sits down at the kitchen counter. Helen throws a knowing look her way. "What?" Annabeth snaps.
Helen laughs. "Nothing, nothing."
When Annabeth goes to sleep that night, she dreams of purple bruises and split lips and the echoes of green, green eyes.