We Olympians (A Percy Jackson AU) || BOOK 1

Chapter 3 || Percy

As Percy dashed through the streets, his heart raced. He heard Thalia's voice ringing through his ears.

"Crybaby..."

And quickly, Thalia's voice turned into Gabe's. That night when he was four and his mother wasn't home. The time he hit Percy for the first time.

"Crybaby..."

Percy knew he was a crybaby. He knew he was some worthless piece of shit. But hearing his best friend say it... he didn't believe anyone truly cared about him anymore. The moment he felt they were out of sight, he grasped his shoulder in agony, fighting the tears forming in his eyes. 

He knew his friends would be mad at him because he ran from them, but he couldn't help it. Plus, he had to prepare for Gabe's party that night, and he had to be on barf duty to hand a trash can to his vomiting drunk friends. He had to go anyways.

That's when he saw Mark and his goons pointing at him. He was used to it. That group of bullies had been beating him up and staring at him all the time when he was in class. That group who always whispered things under their breaths when they were most likely planning his murder.

"...Olympian..."

"...spitting image..."

"...water..."

"...powerful..."

"...dangerous..."

"...target..."

The moment Mark took a step towards Percy, Percy ran. He sprinted. Percy may have been small, but he was born with a swimmer's and a runner's body, so he was fast. He could hear the pounding against the concrete that told him the group was getting closer. Looking over his shoulder, he swore he saw a knife in some guy's pocket.

So Percy, turning to the right, saw a fork in the road, and he turned before they could see which way he went. He ran around, back to his apartment when he was sure they weren't behind him. He had a faint memory of his dad telling him that in a situation if someone was following him, he had to walk around the building in circles before he was sure he'd lost them. Then, could he only go back to his living space.

Otherwise, it could've been dangerous. The moment he stepped inside the apartment, he closed the door, locking it for extra protection. Odors of alcohol hit him like a wave and he was forced to open the windows to let the smell out. Gabe was sitting on the couch, already sipping on whiskey. Percy quickly began to clean up the broken glass on the floor, throwing down rags wherever spilt alcohol was.

"Where've you been, loser?" Gabe spat, setting the cup down with a bang.

"Uh... out," Percy said, not wanting to say he went with his friends to a show.

"Eh, I don't care where you've been," Gabe rolled his eyes, "Just as long as you don't go suicide jumping anytime soon, we've got no problem. Sally wants you alive by the time she gets home on the weekends."

Percy shuddered at the usage of words in Gabe's sentences. What if his mother didn't come home? Would that mean Gabe would kill him? He shook that thought out of his mind, dumping the broken glass shards into the trash can. He proceeded to vacuum the floor, sucking in all the broken mini shards of glass he couldn't get. If there was a speck of glass on the floor for one of Gabe's friends to step on, Percy would be dead.

"W-What's on the menu for today, sir?" Percy stuttered.

"Make some roast beef," Gabe snarled, dumping more chips in his mouth. "Also, I want you to be our bartender for tonight."

"Well, I actually have homework--"

"I'm letting you off easy today, punk..." Gabe growled, advancing. "That wasn't a question. You need to be our bartender. And if you're our bartender, I can't beat you tonight anyways. I'm doing you a favor, shithead."

"Y-Yes, sir..." Percy bowed his head.

"Some twelve-year-old you are if you can't do the chores or even be a bartender..."

"Sir, I might need to run out of the house to buy some materials," he said to Gabe, "But there's this crazy gang outside who were just chasing me with a knife--"

"Then go get your stupid materials! But I want roast beef!"

"Y-Yes, sir..."

Gabe gave him a hard kick to the back, sending Percy sprawling on the floor. He forced himself to stand up, taking out a lump of beef and beginning to prep. He preheated the oven to 450 degrees before scrounging around the house for some rosemary and thyme. Percy didn't even know if Gabe bought garlic! The old buffoon never left the house!

That's when the doorbell rang and Percy picked it up, frowning. There were the supplies he needed. He stood there, flabbergasted, before picking up. There was a note attached, so he read it curiously.

Brace yourself.

___

Percy had cleaned up the whole house, watching as Gabe's friends filed in. Percy quickly brought out the plates of roast beef with sides of mashed potatoes and string beans. The only friend Percy actually liked was Carl, who wasn't really that mean to Percy. Well, he acknowledged him. And around here, Percy never got a mentioning from anyone.

"Thanks," Carl whispered to him as Percy set down his plate.

He gave Carl a slight nod before Percy took a deep breath, walking over to the counter, where he had the different bottles listed. He stared at the cocktail list, slightly overwhelmed.

"Punk!" Gabe called, "We all want White Negroni cocktails!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" one of Gabe's friends interrupted. "How old's that kid?"

"Twelve, sir," Percy responded.

"This is a drinking party, Gabe!" Carl exclaimed, "You can't have a twelve-year-old serving drinks."

"He's done it before, Carl," Gabe rolled his eyes, "It's okay. GO MAKE IT NOW!"

This caused Percy to jump, but Percy did it nonetheless. He served them out, praying that he didn't mess up. Next was Vodka. Tequila shots. Whiskey. Mai Tai. Margarita. Blue Hawaii. Red wine. Anything Percy could imagine.

By the end of the night, all eight drinkers were all on the floor, vomiting onto the tile, some into Percy's barf bucket. But they were all out cold. And Percy was on clean up duty.