Chapter Text
For as long as Percy could remember, there had always been otherworldly forces compelling him, pulling him along like a puppet on strings.
He would wake, sleep crusting at his eyelids and his brain not wholly caught up in the fact that they were now with the waking world, show him visions not with him in the present day. He’d see a driving knife his way, bubbles of seafoam curling at where the baseboard used to be, casino chips clattering against a table that wasn’t there. He’d hear whistles of arrows zipping past, a zebra bray echoing off the walls, or a campfire flicker beside him. He could smell and taste his dreams in the waking world too, salt licking at his lips, ash coating the back of his throat, or the smell of burnt mac and cheese crowding his senses. In a blink, the moment his mind got with the program, it would all disappear as if it had never been there in the first place. Percy knew what he had seen, though, even if it had only been for a breath.
In school, he’d suddenly raise his hand and ask to go to the bathroom, arm pulling up without control. As he’d pass down the hall, he’d see strange monster girls enter his classroom, blow the place up, and by the end of the day he’d be expelled. Which, really, this whole thing did not seem to be working in his favor.
At home, he would always know the exact moment Gabe’s car pulled up to the apartment and his legs would steer him into his room, where he would spend hours alone until his mom returned. He would know when Gabe was in a bad mood, he would know in the morning that after school he’d ask for money and spend the rest of the day looking for scraps of loose change, he’d know when his hand would come swooping down in a clumsy strike, and he’d know exactly when to move out of the way before that hand ever had the chance to hit him.
Most of the time, he never saw it happen before it happened, he just knew what would come, like how he knew the sky was blue and the grass was green. There were just some things he knew.
It was an odd ability that left him wondering each time if he should trust it. If this time the compulsion would save him or if it would leave him bloody and bruised for reasons he wouldn’t piece together weeks later– like that one time Gabe did hit him and his ability led him to the sink where the water magically washed the cuts away. Sometimes it hurt him, and he’d feel betrayed, until weeks, months, years later it would explain why.
He figured that everything would kind of just… Work out if he followed what it wanted him to do.
At night, it would give him some insight on what its plans were– Or what his plans were? He wasn’t yet convinced that this ability was even him, that it wasn’t some parasite that led him around like a puppy that hadn’t learned to think for itself yet. Still, at night, his ability would let him in on its plans through dreams that swirled and curled around each other so swiftly it left him dizzy, like staring straight into a kitchen aid mixer set to the maximum speed. Batter beating together until it was all one big lump.
He’d see a dark, looming Pit, he’d feel the hot sun blistering his back, he’d see a bright blue eye with a pale scar struck right through. Sometimes, if his ability was being particularly considerate, it would let him in on entire conversations that would only be a vague, foggy haze by the time he woke up, and, if he were lucky, by the end of the day he would remember a few words stitched together like an ugly, mismatched quilt. In other words, his ability did not often let him into the know.
At some point, he decided to make a list of everything he did know, and if anyone saw he they’d just think that he was some kid with a hyperactive imagination.
- Gods were real. Maybe.
- Gods had mortal children: demigods.
- Demigods lived at a summer camp.
- The world was maybe, possibly, hopefully not, going to end in five years.
There were other things his ability let him in on, but those were the Big Four Bullet Points and it was all utterly insane. Although his ability had worked out and had been correct in the past, this seemed a little too far-fetched to be true.
And yet, with every passing day, each new morning vision and each new compulsion that drove his day, the evidence stacked up and up, supporting each point. It was like his ability was telling him, hah! Told you so!
When he was younger, five or so, he had looked up at that towering empire state building and had seen a mountain instead, his mind aweing and ooh-ing at mount olympus. When he was a toddler, his preschool teachers wrote on all his notes home that it was a struggle to get him to speak English. Sometimes, instead of the sun, he saw a bright sports car driving across the bright blue sky.
He was literally going crazy. He told himself he should admit himself– hallucinations are no joke – but his ability told him not to, so he didn’t. That was the easy part. If his ability told him to do something, he did it. If it told him not to do something, then he didn’t. Easy.
After he was expelled from his last school, the last non-boarding school in the NYC area that would take him, his ability led him down through the city, legs moving in the direction of his usual bus stop. He waited, saw his bus, but when it stopped, he shook his head without control, and he waited. So. He missed his bus. Or, did he technically miss his bus when his weird ability told him to? Whatever, doesn’t matter because the next bus his ability told him to get on.
The bus was mostly empty, just a few elderly people and a couple kids whose parents he couldn’t immediately identify. Y’know, the usual. He had never taken this route before, really he had never deviated from whatever route would take him home. He didn’t sit, instead his ability pushed him to stand not an inch away from the exit. He looked stupid, standing there with all the empty seats and pressed flush against the door like he was in this huge rush. He just had to hope his exit was next, cuz otherwise he’d look like he had never taken the bus before in his life.
Sometimes, his ability took him on random trips and excursions that made no sense in the moment and still don’t make sense years later. For example, every weekend Percy’s ability tells him to mow lawns or help elderly people grocery shop or, during winter, help shovel sidewalks for cash. This would make sense if not for one important detail: his ability never let him spend the money he earned. Instead, when Smelly Gabe demanded some bills, he had to find other means to give it to him– like looking under vending machines at school or stealing from his more wealthy classmates. The money from his weekend odd jobs sat in a few different places in his room, hidden from his mom, who would just be confused, and hidden from Gabe, who would steal from him.
About a third of the money was hidden in his sock drawer, wrapped in socks he could now no longer wear since his wads of cash were wearing them. Another third were under his mattress, scattered across in hopes if Gabe ever found one, he wouldn’t find the others. Finally, the last of it was tucked within the pages of the few books he owned– which was the most suspicious because he didn’t read.
This trip, on the bus where he looked like a tourist who didn’t understand the point of seats on a bus, could very well be one of those trips that he wouldn’t ever know the point of. And it could very well be a trip where he looks stupid standing there until the end of the line.
Fortunately, his ability only hated him a little bit, and the stop after the next his arms moved without thought, pulling the request stop line and the bus steered off to the side of the road by a little bus sign that was all tilted and bent over and obscured by building shadows. So, sketchy is what he’s saying.
Still, he follows his ability through alleyways and cracked sidewalks until the sun is touching the tops of all the apartments around him. His ability abruptly pushes him into an unknown building, and as his eyes adjust he sees that it’s a rundown, shabby library with dim lighting, three computers that look to be from the dinosaur age, and no librarian in sight.
He hates reading, with his dyslexia and ADHD it's just downright a pain. Besides, his ability has yet to tell him that reading outside of school is anywhere near necessary, so he never saw the point. Now though, standing in the library, Percy is starting to get a little bit scared that this is the start of his reading journey and that this might be the hard line he draws when it comes to following what this foresight parasite tells him to do. He will not subject himself to the torture that is reading a book, no matter what reason his ability gives him. He won’t do it.
Fortunately, a relief that releases the biggest sigh Percy has ever let out, his ability leads him to an old, maybe-moldy bulletin board and without looking he takes a flyer and leaves. Just like that. No hanging around for a few hours doing nothing or wandering the very few bookshelves and picking up a book or logging into some stranger’s library account on one of the computers. He just grabs the flyer and leaves. It’s a bit of a relief, one that lasts all of thirty seconds until he looks down at the paper in his hands.
He gets on two more buses after leaving the library and during the entire duration he can’t stop glaring at that stupid flyer.
Transform Your
Child’s Future at
Yancy Academy:
A School For Troubled Children!
Ouch. Just because he’s been expelled from five schools in as many years does not mean that he’s some “troubled kid.” He just has some plain old bad luck and an ability that wants him to get expelled! He wants to crump up the paper into a ripped up little ball and then launch it into the nearest dumpster. He wants to do that, but his ability wants him to hold onto it tight and carry it all the way home. He’s smart enough to understand the implications. His ability wants him to go to this boarding school. It wants him to leave home. It wants him to subtly convince his mom to want to send him away. That’s the part the stings the most.
It’s a short, numb walk home after he steps off the bus– their apartment complex is just two blocks away from the stop –and he knows that no one will be home. He slips into the building, pushes the flyer into their mail box and slams it shut, feeling as though he’s just sealed his fate. He swallows heavily, trying to push past the pressure behind his eyes and storms up the stairs, straight into their apartment, and into his room.
He’s tired and all he wants is to curl up on a beach, let the cool waves lap across his body, and sleep a dreamless sleep for a thousand years. Instead, he folds over himself on his bed, pulls the covers way past his head, and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s not sure yet if these gods are real, not when he only has his own hallucinations to go off of, but he thinks that tonight he could really, really use a night without dreams, so he clumsily prays to a god he doesn’t know exists.
Sleep-God, I don’t know if you’re real but please let me sleep without dreaming. Please.
It would probably help if he knew the god’s name or whether there even was a god of sleep, but maybe the world will take pity on him. Maybe his ability will take pity on him and shut up for a few hours and he can pretend none of this is happening.
He wakes up the next morning– 4:28 a.m. to be exact –starving, headpoundingly thirsty, and distinctly not dizzy with weird, fuzzy visions. Whether his praying worked or his ability decided to take a chill pill is still up for debate, but Percy thinks he might as well send a genuine thank you! to the heavens as he pushes himself out of bed.
His mom would still be asleep for another hour and a half, and Smelly Gabe would still be asleep until noon. Although he slept peacefully for the first time in forever, his ability stirs within him once again, as if it too is drowsy, it feels a little slow and stilted, and Percy knows that it will come back sooner rather than later. Percy uses his sleepy ability to his advantage and guzzles down six cups of water and three slices of toast without his ability interrupting in record breaking time.
He wonders if this is how all normal people feel, their bodies moving by their choice and not some freaky, compelling part of their mind whispering at every waking moment. It’s weird and Percy finds himself briefly feeling like he’s missing a part of him, but refreshing. He feels like he’s actually here in the present world. He had never noticed so many things about their apartment, like the dent in the toaster or the way the cupboard under the sink doesn’t actually shut.
Within fifteen minutes of being awake, however, that feeling is lost and replaced by the familiar weight of his ability cloaking over him like a twenty pound weighted blanket. It feels alert this time, sharper like a sword ready to be used. Not that Percy knows how to use this ability anyways, it's more accurate to say the ability uses him. But whatever.
His ability tells him to leave the apartment with a bit of urgency but Percy isn’t entirely worried yet, he knows the difference between danger and being on a time crunch, and he has a feeling he’s just supposed to be back by the time his mom wakes up. So, he hurries along, shutting the door all quiet and slow, and then jumping down the stairs two at a time. He really, really doesn’t know why he can’t wait until after his mom comes home from work but his ability always has a reason, even if it's real stupid.
His ability must be having a stroke because he spends the next hour digging around in dumpsters and recycling bins, collecting every aluminum can he could find in a bag and, near the end, grabbing a brownish-gold cup and setting it separate from his collection of cans. At five-thirty a.m., Percy makes the walk back home, legs moving him at a pace somewhere between a speed walk and a jog.
He certainly isn’t a morning person, but his ability works on a schedule and more often than not that schedule is set in the early mornings, usually before the sun has thought of rising. He’s certain it’s just because no one is awake and his ability doesn’t want him skipping school all the time, but he wishes he could just catch a break every once in a while. Or maybe his ability could have him do his adventures at night instead, or maybe a little bit closer to this make-believe deadline. Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.
When he makes it back into the apartment, he shoves the bag of cans underneath his bed and the strange cup in his underwear drawer, exactly how his ability tells him to hide the items. If, for some reason, his mom finds this stuff, he can tell her the cans are to save up some extra cash and the cup was just something cool he found on the way home from school one day. They’re simple enough that an excuse takes absolutely no thought and his ability curls with confidence, although he’s unsure if it's saying no one will find the junk or if his excuse will be executed perfectly. Either way, it’ll probably work out in his favor.
He can’t help but notice that he smells worse than Smelly Gabe, which really does have to be an accomplishment, and takes a shower, relishing in the feeling of water against his tan skin. When he steps out of the bathroom, his mom is up and awake, getting ready for the day. He feels a wisp of anxiety stir up in his chest and suddenly his hands feel all sweaty. He knows that his ability wants him to go to this boarding school but he doesn’t want his mom to want him to go. He’d much rather stay here, even if it means living with Smelly Gabe. If she sends him away, it means she’s admitting that he’s the problem. It means that she’s saying he is a ‘troubled kid.’
His mom is probably the best person in the world and all the best people have the worst, gods-cursed luck; like how her parents died, and then her uncle died, and then she had to drop out of school senior year, and then she met Smelly Gabe and had to live with him. Sometimes, Percy thinks that he’s part of her rotten luck too– he’s always getting expelled and into trouble that just makes everything harder for her –but the few times she talks about his father and having him, she says it’s the best thing to ever happen to her.
If that’s true, then she won’t send him away… Right?
His ability curls uncomfortably in the back of his mind and he knows that not getting sent to this stupid boarding school isn’t a part of the plan.
“Percy!” His mom greets him from the kitchen, a smile squinting her eyes, which makes him think that maybe his stupid ability will be wrong for once in his life for a whole two seconds. “I wanted to talk to you about something before I went to work.” Uh oh.
“I’m sorry I got expelled again,” He blurts out, his hands twitching and fiddling with each other. “It wasn’t even my fault this time! I was in the bathroom when the class exploded, I swear,” He explains, ducking his head in shame. In reality, maybe it was partially his fault, his ability did know that those monster girls were going to waltz into the class, he could have stuck around and made sure they didn’t explode anything.
“It’s okay,” She replies, looking entirely and utterly sincere. He kind of wishes she’d just get mad and then work her magic and find another school for him to go to– a school that’s not Yancy Academy anyways. “It’ll all work out how it’s supposed to,” She says with confidence.
Which, that’s another thing he forgot to mention. Sometimes, not all the time and he’s not sure that it’s entirely similar, he thinks that his mom has an ability too. She’ll say things like that, things that make him think she also has an ability that tells her everything is going to work out how it's supposed to work out. When the sky is clear and blue, she’ll sigh and shake her head, and by lunch the sky will be in a downpour. Or, instead of riding the bus to work she’ll spontaneously decide to leave early and walk, later, on the news, he’ll find out that there was traffic and she would have been late had she taken the bus. When he asks, she always says she “just knew it.” If it’s a family trait, he doesn’t know why she wouldn’t tell him about it, doesn’t know why she would leave him in the dark about an ability he has no control over. An ability he could have control over.
“I found another school you can go to,” She starts hesitantly and Percy feels that little flicker of hope burn up and die. “It’s a boarding school called Yancy Academy.”
So, spoiler alert, Yancy Academy sucks.
Not only is it like every other school ever, where all the students and teachers have this weird grudge against him and believe he’s not dissimilar to the antichrist, but he also doesn’t get that sweet release from prison at the end of the day. No, instead hell reincarnated continues beyond school hours because he lives at school.
Percy hopes that whoever invented boarding schools is somewhere deep in the pit of Tartarus, suffering for eternity.
Over the course of three months at this school, Percy had spoken to the headmaster no less than five times, all of which ended with the words, “Another incident, Mr. Jackson, may result in probation.” Which, c’mon, doesn’t sound scary in the slightest. Besides, his ability had been sitting at a low simmer the entirety of the school year so far, not interfering besides encouraging him to argue with this red-headed girl named Nancy and making sure he doesn’t flunk out of school the very first week, so he’s not very worried. That stupid ability had gotten him in this school and it wasn’t going to get him kicked out until it deemed it necessary.
And either way, Percy was almost one-hundred percent sure that he would be on probation by the beginning of second semester anyways, so it didn’t really matter how much the headmaster warned him.
His only solace is Grover, his newfound friend who is absolutely not human whatsoever. In fact, he figured out that Grover is the reason why he collected all those cans back at the beginning of summer and the reason that he brought them all to Yancy when he first moved in. Percy thinks he’s a satyr, but he only has a subtle suspicion as his evidence. Grover’s kind of an outcast too; scrawny, held back a couple grades, and physically disabled– a recipe for getting bullied in middle school. Percy had never clicked with any of the other kids at his old schools that were outcasts, almost as if he were an outcast among outcasts. Grover, however, seemed to actually like him and Percy liked him back. Grover, despite only being in his life for a couple months, might be his best friend, something he thought he would never say.
It isn’t until a few weeks before winter break that his ability flares to life, beginning to rule over his everyday life. They get to go home for Thanksgiving break, if they want, and Percy’s ability tells him that he must get permission to leave.
Just as he’s about to call his mom, telling her that he’d like to go home for a couple days, his ability stops him from actually dialling her number and has him just hold it up to his ear. He feels stupid and he’s kind of mad. He wanted to see his mom, he missed her face and her blue chocolate chip cookies and the way she’d comb through his hair with her fingers when he was sad. He missed her and his ability was telling him that seeing her wasn’t even a part of the plan? Homesickness bubbles and gurgles inside him, suddenly making him feel more nauseous than the stomach flu ever could.
Instead of smashing the phone into a hundred different pieces, he pretends to talk to her, feeling entirely and utterly awkward. No way is anyone going to believe this.
“... Um. Hey, Mom,” He starts, words all stilted and weird, pauses at awkward moments that make absolutely no sense. “We get to go home for Thanksgiving so… Um. Yeah. Can I come home? Yeah? … Awesome. Ok,” He says slowly, glancing at the office lady every couple words. She has big brown hair that looks like it had been blow-dried at least ten times that morning, and she’s very animatedly writing something down. She is, very obviously, not listening to a word he’s saying. “Ok, um, love you.” After a few blinks, he sets the phone back down in its holder, feeling the silence sink deep into his bones.
With a deep breath, he turns towards the office lady, tapping on the counter to get her attention.
“My mom said I can come home for Thanksgiving break… I guess she changed her mind? Can I mail the form to her?” He asks, feeling all twitchy and nervous. He’s a bad liar, but he doesn’t think that the office lady knows him that well, besides him walking to the headmaster’s office that’s just behind hers every few weeks. If his ability is telling him to do it, it’ll probably work, even if he feels like it’s all going to crash and burn around him.
“Sure, honey!” She chirps, all chipper and beaming while she fishes around for the permission slip. “Send this to her and have her sign it A-S-A-P so we get it on time!” She says, handing her a simple white slip of paper and an envelope, which was pretty nice.
He thanks her and walks in the direction of the mail room until he’s out of her sight, then his legs pull him up the stairs and in the opposite direction, taking him back to his dorm room.
Once in his room, he shuts the door and signs the permission slip with a swirly Sally Jackson on the line, places it in the envelope, writes down a couple addresses on the front, and then hides it away. His ability tells him to wait until the day after tomorrow to sneakily place it into the mail room, which he guesses makes sense. Still, it makes him realize just how smarter his ability is compared to himself. He would’ve never thought of that.
It’s the day before Thanksgiving and Percy has no idea what his ability’s plan is. It had tried to let him into the loop a little bit the night before, dreams of lightning and blond hair and dark, dark shadows, but none of it made sense. He does, however, know that his feet are leading him unspecificly around New York City, seemingly with no purpose. His feet are starting to get tired.
Sometimes, he thinks his ability is trying to do those spy movie techniques to get someone off your tail, but no one is on his tail so it all just kind of feels pointless. Still, all his wandering has a point, which results in him waiting at Penn Station, where he gets on a train, gets off, and then gets onto another one headed for Montauk. He hadn’t been there in two summers because Gabe said that it was too expensive. It felt weird, going there without his mom. He had never done that before.
He gets off the train and lets his ability lead him around, soaking in the familiarity. Although he never spent much time in the village, instead spending nights at the beach, he couldn’t help that little warm fuzzy feeling burrowing in him.
He keeps walking around until he literally bumps right into someone.
It’s embarrassing, it’s graceless, and most importantly it lands him right on the ground, blinking stupidly. When the stranger turns around, Percy realizes he’s not a stranger at all– or he is, but Percy has Seen him before. He had been haunting his dreams for years now, and he knew those blue, blue eyes with the thick scar like he knew the back of his hand.
“Shoot! You alright, kid?” Luke Castellan asks, leaning down to reach out his hand.