Aroma ~ A Percabeth Story (ongoing): Book 3 - Percy Jackson Fanfiction

Chapter Twelve ~ PERCY

Chapter Twelve
PERCY

Percy stood in the arena. "All right, everybody, so here -"

Someone snickered.

Percy ignored it. "Here," he said, adding a stern tone to his voice, "we parry our opponent's strike by flattening the blade and curving it around in a smooth arc. Everyone thinks that offence is the most important but defence is just as, if not more. It's no good being able to fight if you can't defend yourself."

He could see that half the class weren't listening. About forty demigods sat in the bleachers, watching Percy's lesson, but not hearing the words he said. They were gossiping, their eyes hungrily fixed on his face as their source.

It had been two days since his fight with Andrew Weekends in the Big House. He hadn't seen Annabeth or Andrew in those days. In fact, Andrew had taken a cab back to Manhattan, where he'd probably called the cops and was just waiting for Percy to leave the camp. Andrew had put up a fight; he'd landed a clean blow to Percy's eye, leaving him with a blue-green bruise, and cut his lip. But Andrew had yet another broken nose and his model looks were at least semi-permanently ruined.

Percy had barely gotten a look at Annabeth before Chiron and the Stoll brothers had arrived. Chiron had taken Annabeth away for immediate treatment from Dr Will Solace, who was also in charge of Percy's dying half-sister's care, and the Stolls had separated Percy and Andrew.

Jolting back to the present, Percy crossed his arms. The crowd of kids fell silent as they watched anger fill his features. "There is no point in me teaching this lesson," he shouted, "if kids cannot be arsed to listen!"

One asked inquisitively, "But sir, how can you expect us to concentrate, what with everything being said about you?" This was Freya March, a daughter of Ares, who reminded Percy of his old frenemy Clarisse La Rue. The girl wasn't nearly as mean and was actually quite timid for a child of the war god, but Percy wanted an argument.

"This is a lesson," Percy snapped. "It is not a gossip circle. You are here to learn how to keep yourself alive against monsters and other adversaries. Do you think this is all some big joke?"

He couldn't stop himself. He threw down his sword Riptide and waved his arms in frustration. "I battled a Titan," he declared loudly. "I almost died on so many occasions. I bathed in the River Styx, which burnt me and tore at my flesh and scarred me inside like acid, all to save your future! I was just fifteen, almost sixteen. I wasn't as lucky as you guys. None of you will ever have to face a big prophecy like I did. None of you will ever have to sacrifice as much of your childhood as I did."

Percy felt a sort of hollowness wash over him. "I lost friends, friends who were all brave," he recalled. He had the group's undivided attention now. Some looked sorry for him; some looked shocked by him; but the vast majority looked scared for him.

They thought he was losing his mind.

"Charles Beckendorf," he announced. "Beckendorf was a good guy, the best. He was a son of Hephaestus and he died on a mission against Kronos. He sacrifice his life to save mine and help your generation to be born in a calm time.

"Silena Beauregard," he continued. A lump formed in his throat. "A daughter of Aphrodite."

"A spy," one of Silena's half-brothers, a kid named Dexter, added. A ripple of annoyance passed through the crowd at this.

"A hero," Percy corrected. "She made mistakes but she did what was right in the end." He rattled off name after name of friend after friend. "Michael Yew, son of Apollo. Bianca di Angelo, daughter of Hades. Lee Fletcher, son of Apollo. Ethan Nakamura, son of Nemesis." He gulped. "Luke Castellan, son of Hermes."