For the First Time- A Percabeth Story

Chapter 3- I Take a Ride in the Oldest Taxi Ever

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters!

Annabeth Chase

I boarded the plane, trying to hold back tears. Not only was I not comfortable with being in the air, but also I couldn't stand to leave my brothers. I had hugged them for thirty minutes this morning, trying not to cry in front of them. I had to stay strong, for their sake. They were the only family I had left after all. Even though before they were irritating brats, they had changed, and I had learned to love them.

Diana said a few things were saved from the fire: a navy Yankee's cap, my father's college ring and a picture of us all in front of the house. She gave then to me, and told me that she was sorry one last time.

I sat in the window closest to the isle, so if anything happens, like, if the plane crashes I'll be the first out of the row. Yeah, did I say I was a bit paranoid? No? Well, now I'm telling you now. I gripped the seat, my knuckles white as we flew into the air.

I pulled out the picture and studied it as we flew. Matthew and Bobby stood in the middle, between my father and stepmother. I stood off to the side, on the edge of the picture. I remember feeling left out of their perfect little family, but just recently I've felt included. Then, this happens. My eyes stung with tears, but I pinched the bridge of my nose and ignored it.

In the picture, I was fifteen. This was just two years ago. I wore a pink scarf, a grey dress that fell above my knees, black leggings and grey Ugg boots. My hair was out of its usual ponytail for the picture and it fell down my back. My head was tilted a little, a big smile on my face. My hands were on my hips and my legs spread out a little, my usual pose. Matthew and Bobby both in blue polos and khaki pants. My dad wore the same thing as the boys, and my stepmom wore a pink ruffled blouse, a long brown skirt and black boots. It was late fall, and the weather was a little chilly that day in Texas. We had visited my grandmother for Thanksgiving.

I think looked at the ring. It still had soot on it. I rubbed it until the soot came off and slipped it on my finger. It fit perfectly, but I wasn't about to wear it. Instead, I slipped it on my bead necklace. It was from when Luke and I ran away together. He and I made necklaces out of things that we found around town. I had a couple of beads on mine. One had a picture of some sort of maze and another had a pine tree etched into it. I still had my owl earrings on from the night if the fire.

I put the Yankee's cap and pulled my ponytail though the hole in the back. I remember when my real mother gave this to me when I was twelve. I always wore it as it if gave me some sort of superpower. I soon drifted off to sleep, because I didn't get any last night while watching my brothers all night.

I dreamed that I was in a large building made a crumbling red bricks. I didn't know where I was or why I was here. I put my left hand on the brick wall so I knew how to retrace my steps. The walls were lined with all sorts of strange things from banged up lockers to apple trees. I tried to study the architecture in order to get a better sense of how to escape. I walked for a long time until the ceiling began to open up. The sky was dark, a void of inky darkness. Out of nowhere, a strangely feminine voice taunted me, her tone coldly amused and syrupy sweet.

"I just want you to know your place, Annabeth, dear. That's all," it said, echoing five or six times before fading away. I risked a glance behind, but nothing. Just endless darkness.

I began to run. Hard.

I ran until I couldn't anymore, passing by paper airplanes and golden pocket watches. My legs were burning and my breathing heavily, but I knew I had to keep moving, so I started to walk, until I tripped over a metal rod. I fell and a sharp pain shot up my ankle. I looked back at the rod realizing that it was three-pronged trident. Was it supposed to help me? I picked it up. And it melted at my touch into a black puddle. Strange. Slowly, very slowly, it began to reform itself. I was still on the ground examining my sprained ankle.