Chapter Four: An Accused Lightning Thief.
— Just a little rush, babe, to feel dizzy, to
derail the mind of me !
The weather was dangerously alarming.
Never had it ever rained over Half-Blood Hill, but now only the camp and its cabins were safe. The woods were being rained on entirely; The naiads, nymphs, and other creatures outraged by the change in their habitat. Percy Jackson had been warned that it didn't rain there, so seeing it only confirmed what he had seen in his dreams and it worried him. Everything was different now. He had been moved to Cabin Three. Having his own space (more like entire cabin) was nice, but he had just started to be accepted into this environment and that had all gone to waste. All the different campers were giving him wary looks, making sure to steer clear from him. Annabeth had always so been reluctant to speak to him, even during the Greek lessons she was forced to give him. The only person who continued to treat him the same — like a person — was Colette. She'd been surprisingly sweet.
However, there were moments where he'd catch her sending him cautious and confused looks that he could never fully decipher, they were nearly unreadable every time he saw them. He would continuously wonder what that was all about, but never went as far as to question her, he didn't want to push her away — she was the only one who stuck around. His thoughts were interrupted when his best friend, Grover, knocked on the door of his cabin almost frantically. "Come in?" Percy rasped from his place on his bed, welcoming the presence of the terrified and shaking satyr.
Grover trotted inside, looking worried. "Mr. D wants to see you." His lips were pressed into a thin line as he looked everywhere but his best friend's eyes, it made him more suspicious.
"Why?"
"He wants to kill—I mean," The satyr bleated nervously. "I'd better let him tell you."
His best friend's nervousness only added to his own. Percy got dressed, albeit anxiously, thinking he'd gotten into some type of trouble again. For days, he'd been expecting to be summoned to the Big House. Especially now that he'd been claimed a son of Poseidon, one of the Big Three, who weren't supposed to have any kids. He figured it was a crime for him to just be alive. He could imagine all the other gods debating the best way to punish him for even existing, leaving it to Dionysus to deliver the verdict of his painful future.
Over Long Island Sound, the sky started to look like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain was coming in their direction at a rapid pace. He was so wary of it, he'd asked Grover if they needed an umbrella. "No," the satyr denied. "It never rains here unless we want it to."
Percy furrowed his eyebrows at the answer and pointed to the incoming storm. "The fuck is that, then?" He blurted, eyes widening at his own language, but his friend didn't bat an eye which made him instantly relax. Usually, he would get in trouble for his foul mouth, it was a habit. Could you blame him? He had a Hispanic mother and he grew up in New York, curse words were practically his first language — in both languages he'd consciously learned (that would soon be three). He would soon come to a surprising realization that both Annabeth and Colette could curse just as much, if not more, in their respective languages.
Grover glanced uneasily at the sky. "It'll pass around us. Bad weather always does."
He was right. Obviously, he was, but even so; Percy had noticed things. In the week he's been there, the weather has never been overcast. The few rain clouds he'd seen, skirted right around the edges of the campgrounds. But this storm? This one was huge. At the volleyball pit, the kids from the Apollo cabin were playing a morning game with the satyrs (he noticed the way Colette was not among the group of her siblings and wondered where she'd gone). Dionysus' twins were walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow as a favor for Demeter's cabin. Everybody was going about their normal business, but they all looked tense. They kept their eyes on the storm.
