Away With My Words (Percy Jackson Fanfiction)

ON YOUR MARKS

ON YOUR MARKS.
GET SET.
BEEP!

The swimmer catapults off the block and slips into the water without so much as a splash. He glides effortlessly under the water, emerging with strong strokes like a sea serpent, kicking loud as thunder. He flips and glides, flips and glides, flips and glides like it's easy. Other swimmers in this heat are no contest—his fingertips reach the wall long before they even reach the flags.

I frantically flip to the next page of my notebook, scribbling tiny notes for which I'll no doubt have to hold up to my lamp and squint. But right now, I'm getting the info I need to write the lead to my article on the boys varsity swim team for the student-run newspaper, the Half-Blood. My first drafts are always publishable and praised by my advisor. From the second I walked into the production room, I knew in my bones that I was made to become Editor-in-Chief. But first, I have to become a section editor and for that, I have to write an article in each section.

Perseus Jackson exemplifies everything a swimmer would aspire to achieve. Perfect technique, placed on varsity as a freshman, continuing the momentum as a sophomore, already being scouted by big name schools, in line for hefty scholarships, and undoubtedly the best candidate for next year's team captain.

Not to mention that he's coveted by the girls at Riordan High. He encounters many a giggling gaggle of girls, some even brave enough to slip him a tiny heart-shaped note with a phone number and "<3 (insert name here) call me!"

Not to give off any I'm-not-like-other-girls-adjacent vibes. On the contrary, it's not that difficult to observe him from afar. Everyone knows who he is, knows the parties he goes to. Everything I have learned about this person has been against my will.

Which is why I dread writing this article while I usually savor writing, attacking ideas with gusto. I sigh, placing my notebook on a nearby bleacher, and gather my blonde ringlets into a bun. It's go time.

Perseus Jackson pushes out of the pool, sliding his goggles off his face and taking his swim cap off. He swaggers to his friends, giving high fives before reaching a duffle bag and throwing his head back to spray water into his mouth.

I walk towards him with purpose, keeping my head high. I've learned that no one really wants to bother someone who looks like they've no time for chitchat.

His friends look me up and down and trade looks. I know what they're probably thinking about who I probably am. That I'm one of those braver girls of the flock of followers. But I've always been a leader.

I walk up right in front of him and fix a tight smile onto my face. He looks up from his granola bar.

"Hi, I'm Annabeth Chase and I'm a reporter for the Half-Blood. I was wondering if I could interview you about varsity swim after the meet. It should only be about ten minutes."

He blinks, mouth slightly agape.

"Uh... sure. I should be free now, actually. Gimme a sec."

Perseus pulls a coat with a fluffy interior out of his duffle and shrugs it on. He looks around, squinting.

"Here, follow me. The coach's office should be quiet."

I frown.

"Would it be okay to conduct the interview there?"

Perseus blinks again. The part of me that frequently needs to be shushed wonders how much is going on up there.

"Yeah, I don't see why not. Coach D loves me. He won't care."

I follow him, speedwalking to catch up with his long strides. A couple of his teammates wolf whistle. He rolls his eyes.

"Don't listen to them, Annabeth."

I don't know why hearing him say my name gives me a small thrill.

That part of me also needs to be shushed.

I am determined and focused and ready to prove that I'll be an excellent editor. And those wolf whistles, the disdain I hold for the "popular" crowd, all the hatred that's hardened my heart, all turn to fuel. This article will be my best yet.