𝑨𝒍𝒍'𝒔 𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑯𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒚

Discoveries

Annabeth's p.o.v.

I crumple another piece of paper and throw it into the trash can. Why can't I just be talented? I ran out of phone time, and Matthew and Bobby are using the TV, so I decided to go to my room and draw. The first people that come to my mind are Luke and Percy. Huge shock. Luke was easy, I captured his likeness in minutes, having done it so many times before.

Percy, on the other hand? That was hard. After trying for over an hour, the only thing I have to show for it is a trash can overflowing with dozens of failed attempts. I can draw his features easily, the shape of his jaw, the curve of his nose, but I can't draw the eyes.

Again and again I try, and again and again I fail. I can see them in my head, their symmetrical shape, the shining green irises, but when I put it on paper, something is always missing. The problem? I don't know what.

I slam my journal on my desk, and flop dramatically down onto my bed, sighing. I roll over to grab my phone to text Piper, or Hazel, or really anyone, but then I remember it doesn't work.

I get up and walk over to my bookshelf. As I run my fingers along the spines, I sigh again. I've read them all, multiple times. I contemplate going to the living room, seeing if whatever Bobby and Matthew have on TV is worth watching, but Helen is home from work, and I don't feel like being in the same room as her.

Finally, I sit back down at my desk, and look at the last drawing I had attempted. I grab my pencil, and my hand seems to move of it's own accord. Retracing certain lines in his eyes, erasing others, and adding entirely new ones. After a few minutes, I put my pencil down, and look at Percy's face, satisfied. I figured out what was missing from his eyes. The ones I had drawn didn't sparkle. In real life, Percy's eyes have a mischievous glint, that seems to shine as bright as the moon reflected in a still lake.

Speaking of the moon, I start when I look out the window and realize it's dark out. The huge silver circle gleamed in the sky, perfectly round and full. My least favorite thing about living in New York City? 

You can't see the stars like you could when I lived in California. 

We moved from California when I was very little, not even four, and my clearest memory from there is laying on the hill behind our house, my fathers arm wrapped tightly around me, shielding me from the cold air. He had pointed up at the huge stars hanging in the sky and said, "Look at them, Anna. Look at the hunter Orion, and the bear. The Pegasus, and the great hero Perseus."

I loved him more than anything in the world then. But when we moved to New York, when he met Helen, well, he had other priorities.

I can smell something burning, and I laugh, knowing Helen or my father asked the twins to make dinner. My stomach growls, and I decide it's time to go down and help if I want an edible dinner.

Percy's p.o.v.

"Percy Percy Percy!" Estelle cries when I walk in the door after school.

"Hey Stella," I laugh, picking her up and spinning around, making sure to not to let her hit her feet on the narrow walls of the foyer. "Where's Mommy?"

"She's in the kitchen with her computer," my little sister shrieks with joy.

"Okay," I grin, setting her down. My mom and Paul often joke about how I'm going to be a good dad, the way I handle Estelle and Tyson.

My sister reaches up and grabbed his hand, dragging me to the kitchen. My mom is sitting there, as promised, typing away furiously at her keyboard. She looks up, taking her reading glasses off, when she hears them walking into the room.