NEVER BE THE SAME . . . percy jackson

one: the proposition.

IF SOMEONE TOLD Brooklyn Hayward that Percy Jackson would ever talk to her, she'd probably shoot them in the head.

They've barely had conversations — basically the only time they've talked was when Thalia, Brooklyn's favorite ( and only ) sister, introduced them, despite the fact that they'd been in the same camp for at least two years together. Brooklyn had at least known his name by then. And his parentage, of course.

Thalia opted out of being the prophecy kid by becoming a Hunter and leaving the Zeus cabin for Brooklyn once again — which was fine, she liked the giant space to herself. It reminded her of her house sometimes, but when those thoughts came, she noped those thoughts out of existence and either smoked or, best case scenario, snuck out of camp to light a building on fire. Those shady CEOs deserved it.

Thalia made Jackson the prophecy kid. And if he died? Brooklyn would be next in line, which was just downright terrifying. She would not make a good prophecy kid. So she hoped that he'd fulfill it.

Other than their interactions with Thalia? Brooklyn did not remember talking to him at all.

So when someone had called her name while she was on the climbing wall, trying to beat her best time, she'd looked over her shoulder and not expected to see him.

"Jackson?" Brooklyn called, frowning, but turning back to climb up the wall further. "What do you want? Thals isn't coming back for a while, she's in LA or something. I wouldn't know, she never tells me if she's in a city I like."

"Can we talk?" Jackson asked, somewhere below her.

"After I beat this," Brooklyn continued climbing up the wall, expertly dodging lava that came too close to her hair, before leaping to the top and sitting on the edge, looking down at her timer. Damn. Five seconds too slow. Fuck Percy Jackson.

She hopped down the wall, using the winds to shield her fall as she landed next to Jackson, looking up at him. "My time was five seconds slower than my record. I sure hope that whatever you want to tell me is important."

"Yeah, uh, sorry. Do you think that we could talk somewhere private?" Jackson asked her, looking around. They were in a very public space, and Brooklyn could sense some stares at them.

Which was completely plausible, because they would never be caught dead in a conversation together. Brooklyn never cared about her social life in camp, but she still had a brain in her. Or maybe that was just her mother's influence. Or maybe she cares her reputation, which surprised her.

"Fine," she said finally. "Your cabin?"

"I don't know if my cabin's the best—"

Brooklyn raised an eyebrow. "Your big Cyclops brother isn't in the cabins now, right? And, besides, you can't do anything in my cabin without getting stared at by a statue of my father."

Jackson stared at her before blurting out, "guess then the camp rule would be good, right, if your dad's staring at us?"

Brooklyn stared at him for a second before she laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Jackson, you're so funny." She shook her head before turning around. "Well, if you insist on going to my cabin . . ."

She led him all the way to her cabin, swinging open the door and walking in, ignoring the giant statue in the middle, as usual. However, Jackson stared up at it. "What is—"

"I warned you," Brooklyn said, her voice growing higher teasingly as she threw her timer back into the closest open drawer. It effortlessly clunked in, and she deemed that decent as she pushed it closed when she walked over to it in search of a towel. "It's great because the Stolls can't steal my stuff because I made up something about the statue. But he watches me when I sleep, and that's just creepy, but I got used to it by now."