rhea of the valley - percy jackson

⚚ chapter seven ⚚

"but I wish I could disappear ego crush is so severe god, it's brutal out here" - brutal, olivia roderigo

Rhea was in the real world, and she was finding every minute absolutely fascinating.

Argus drove them out of the countryside and into western Long Island. Rhea barely remembered what a highway felt like, but it didn't provide her much to stare at. Annabeth was sitting in the front with Argus, and Grover and Rhea stole the window seats leaving Percy in the middle. Rhea studied every person they passed, their face, their features, their complete freedom. She felt a surge of jealousy. She'd never be able to exist in the real world like them.

"So far so good," Percy said. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

Rhea nudged him. "Don't jinx it."

Annabeth turned around in the front passenger seat, giving Percy an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain."

"Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you."

"Could've fooled me."

She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look ... we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

Rhea rolled her eyes. Maybe it was because she didn't know her mother, so she didn't know her rivals and who she should hate, but she thought that was a pretty flimsy excuse to hate someone. But that was Annabeth, she loved her mother more than she loved herself.

"Why?"

She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives."

Rhea stifled a giggle at that. Percy gave her a proud grin.

"Oh, forget it."

"Now, if she'd invented pizza—that I could understand."

"I said, forget it!"

In the front seat, Argus smiled. He didn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winked at Percy.

Traffic slowed them down in Queens. By the time they got into Manhattan it was sunset and starting to rain.

Argus dropped them at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side. By then, Rhea was eager to escape the confinement of the car and lept out, eagerly stretching out her stiff limbs.

Argus unloaded their bags, made sure they got our bus tickets, then drove away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch them as he pulled out of the parking lot.

And with that, Rhea's last piece of home was gone.

They got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Percy wasn't too bad myself. Rhea was horrible. She couldn't land one hit. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment after her fourth try, giving up and passing the apple back to Annabeth.

The game ended when Percy tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, their Hacky Sack disappeared—core, stem, and all.