/𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒\ [𝒔. 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌]

𝟒.𝟙.𝟣

"I can take her outside," Percy offered without missing a beat.

Jane gave him a resigned nod and watched her children go before turning back to talk to an old friend from college. Artemis and Percy headed to the back door that led out to a small porch and a set of back steps. "Here," said Percy, bending down to pick up a baseball that had probably been hit too far by some kids in the neighborhood. It was dirty and worn, but it would do. Artemis walked a few paces away and held her hands up. Percy threw the ball and she caught it with one hand. Neither of them spoke as they played. Neither of them smiled, or reacted in any way at all. Throwing the ball was just something mindless to do, a way to distract their hands as their thoughts wandered. As people flowed from the doors of the funeral home, going home to their families after the service, the truth sank in to both Percy and Artemis that their father was dead. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Artemis hurried down the stairs of her aunt and uncle's house, fixing her hair as she went. She paused at the dining room door for a moment to catch her breath, and then pushed them open and crossed the room to slip into her seat at the table. Everyone else was already seated and wine had been served to her aunt and uncle. "Sorry," she said quickly. "I got sidetracked with some... school stuff."

"Put your napkin on your lap," Aunt Isobel said cooly. "We were just about to start without you."

"Sorry," Artemis apologized again, unfolding her napkin and placing it delicately on her lap. She hated family dinners more than anything. When the food was served, Artemis forced it down as fast as possible, ignoring the conversation around her, so she could get back upstairs to her lonely bedroom for the night. When she'd finished with her plate, she set her napkin back on the table and started to get up.

"Artemis," her uncle said gruffly, motioning for her to sit back down. She did slowly.

Aunt Isobel gazed at her with not completely unkind eyes. "We're hosting a dinner party in a few weeks," she said, her voice never losing its crisp formality. "We want to have our friends and family over to celebrate the ending of the summer."

"Why's that something to celebrate?" Gregory asked moodily, staring sullenly at his hardly touched plate. He hated steak and kidney pie.

"Because it gets you out of the house," Uncle Gregory half-joked. His son gave him a half-hearted smile.

Aunt Isobel continued to look at Artemis. "This is a formal party and I'll need some help with the preparations. I expect you to be available to do so."

"And what if I'm not?" Artemis asked, knowing she was testing the boundaries of her aunt's patience.

"Oh, you will be," her uncle threatened.

She leaned back in her seat, frowning. She knew exactly who this dinner party was for. She'd heard about the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the papers and from people at school and she'd heard rumors of his following. She wouldn't be the least bit surprised if that was the group that would show up to her aunt and uncle's dinner party. "What do you need my help with?" she asked insolently.

"There's a great number of things that need doing. Menu planning, the guest list, decorations, cleaning." Aunt Isobel emphasized the last word and Artemis immediately knew that was the part she'd be helping with most.

Artemis sighed, too tired to argue any further. "Fine," she said at last. "I'll help with your dinner party."

"You didn't have an option in the first place," Uncle Gregory said in a rough voice. "We'll get your dress for it in Diagon Alley when we go to get your school things. We can't have you walking around in... whatever that is." He looked distastefully down at Artemis's Rolling Stones t-shirt and flared jeans.