Persephoneia "Percy" Cordelia Jackson is considered a prime example of why it is that the worst of storms are nearly always named after girls.
Practically the living embodiment of the beautiful but deadly seas, she's not someone any sane person want...
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Confession time: I ditched Grover as soon as we reached the bus terminal.
I know, I know. It was irresponsible and rude. But Grover was really freaking me out by the time we got there. I was already panicking from my encounter with the Fates, I didn't need him looking at me like I was a dead woman walking, muttering "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to be during the sixth grade?" on top of that.
Also something to know, whenever he got upset, Grover's bladder acted up with a vengeance, so I wasn't the least bit surprised when, as soon as we got off the bus, he made me promise to wait for him and then made a beeline for the restroom. Instead of waiting, I got my suitcases, slipped outside, and caught the first taxi uptown. I planned to call him back after I saw my maman and had better control over my emotions.
Hey, just because he made me promise didn't mean I didn't preemptively cross my fingers inside my pocket.
"East One-hundred and fourth and First," I told the driver.
A quick word about my maman, before you meet her.
Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have some of the worst luck in the world. Her own parents - her birth mother was unfortunately absent but her dad ended up getting introduced to his soulmate after my maman's birth and they were married a year later with my biological grandmama acting as the Maid of Honor - both died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by her paternal uncle who didn't care very much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent her high school years working to save enough money to attend a college with a good creative writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no more family, and no diploma.
The only good break she ever got was meeting my papa or my πατέρας(father) and my aunt Amphi or as I often called her μαμά Αμφί(mama Amphi).
I don't have any actual clear memories of my father, just this sort of warm glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile but my maman doesn't like to talk about him because it makes her sad. Luckily I have my brother Triton to answer my questions. I still don't really know what he looks like though, my maman has no pictures and I'm too nervous to ever ask Triton or Mama Amphi about it.
They weren't married, obviously. She had told me that he was rich and important, and their (as in his, Mama Amphi and my maman's) triad relationship was a secret from my papa's family. Then, one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey and couldn't return.
She was a very smart woman because what she told me wasn't exactly a lie but it also wasn't the complete truth. She had been telling me who my father was subtly for years without ever outright saying it. Then the letters exchanged between us allowed me to know my papa in some way and both my mamas and my papa made it clear that if he could that he wouldn't hesitate to spend as much time with me as he possibly could and that he loved me very much even when he couldn't be there with me.
