that summer |percabeth au| ✔︎

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - Request

The sea was frothing mad with rain and wind. After the placid night, it had recovered, channeling with urgency all its vast power to delay our return, to keep us at sea.

But Percy had seen the determination in my eyes this morning, and he'd made it his, shaking off his exhaustion and piloting us through the storm. When we finally reached the marina, it was near afternoon and the docks were deserted, every boat battened down and tied up. Gone was the evidence of yesterday's race, the portable barbecue pits, the balloons, the pirates and mermaids.

It was as though none of it had ever happened.

But I knew better. The race had happened. Our Queen of Cups had taken second. Admirable, but not enough to save the houses.

By the strength of Amatheia, I had to make my last stand.

As soon as Percy had safely navigated the boat into the slip, he waved me on. "Go," he shouted over the storm. A fierce wind howled, clawing at my hair, at the too-big sweatshirt and pants he had given me. "I'm right behind you, soon as I tie her down. Be careful!"

I kissed him, and then I disembarked.

My feet hit the dock.

Rain needled my face, my neck.

I ran.

Bare feet slapped the wet cement, gritty with sand. I ran faster, harder, ignoring the sting on my feet and the burn in my legs. I ran all the way through the marina, into the sand and up the beach, past the small cottages and then the larger homes, and still I didn't pause. By the time I hit the last of the dunes and saw the rise of the houses of Starfish Point, I was winded, but I didn't feel the cold. Adrenaline and purpose kept me warm until I finally reached the Jacksons' door.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Jackson stood in the doorway, a glass of scotch in hand. His face said a lot of things, all at once: What the hell happened to you? I'm tired of your meddling. I'm just plain tired. Is this summer ever going to end? But all he said out loud was, "Where's Percy?"

He's fine, I mouthed. I pointed inside the warm house. May I?

"Oh, of course. Come on in." He finally stepped aside. "Sorry. Let me get you a towel." He led me into the kitchen, gestured for me to sit at the counter.

He returned with a fluffy bath towel, fresh out of the dryer, then put on the kettle. With a smile that wasn't altogether unfriendly, he said, "Looks like you could use something hot to drink."

I nodded, grateful, and asked him for a pen and paper.

Percy's fine. Tying up the boat. We had it out all night, just got back. He'll be here soon.

I showed him the note to alleviate his concern about Percy, then held my finger up, asking for some time.

This, I thought, might take a while.

As Percy had drifted off to dreamland after my return from the depths of the ocean last night, I lay awake, thinking about this moment, this plan taking vague shape from the mist in my mind. It was a long shot, but we'd lost the bet—a long shot was all we had left. Mr. Jackson had no reason to listen to me, but after everything, I couldn't just not try.

Somewhere deep inside I felt the flames of Amatheia, twin lights with just enough warmth to keep me going.

I set my pen to the paper and wrote, straight from the heart.

Mr. Kane,

I know you made a bet, and Percy and I lost. I get it—you don't go back on your word.