¹POCKET FULL OF POSIES. p. jackson

vii. A Green Mist (Whatever It Is)

chapter seven
❛ a green mist ❜

━━━━━  JOSEPHINE WAS PRETTY miserable that night. Truth be told, miserable wasn't a strong enough word for it. Miserable didn't even cover the dread she felt, let alone this heavy feeling in her stomach and the odd tingling beneath the skin of her hands (that hadn't gone away since Medusa tried to turn them all into stone).

              The four of them camped out in the woods that night, all too frightened by the encounter with Medusa to stay inside the gnome emporium. They were stationed a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties — the ground was littered with flattened soda cans. fast-food wrappers, and cheap beer cans. They had taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but they didn't dare light a fire to dry their damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. They didn't want to attract anything else (and Josephine's heart couldn't take it if they somehow did).

              They — Annabeth, really — decided it was best to sleep in shifts, and Percy volunteered to take first watch. (Surprisingly, Annabeth didn't tell him to take the first watch. But perhaps that had to do with the fact she was still annoyed about the whole What's the harm in a photo, Annabeth? ordeal from earlier ...) Whatever the reason was, Josephine didn't argue with either of them. She curled into her blanket, trying to look for warmth — and it wasn't working. Annabeth, however, seemed to find some — as soon as her head was rested on her arm, she was snoring loudly. Grover fluttered into the air with his flying shoes, landing on the lowest bough of a nearby tree. The satyr put his back against the thick trunk, staring up at the night sky.

              The daughter of Apollo stared up at the night sky, unable to fall asleep. She didn't know if it was the anxiety, the rough ground, or her racing mind — probably a vicious combination of all three was keeping her awake. She looked at all the constellations Mrs. Hall had taught her. When Josephine was still in D.C., Mrs. Hall had been the Pascuals' neighbor in their little community of houses just on the outskirts of the city, and she would often babysit Josephine. For as long as Josephine could remember, Mrs. Hall would be the one who coddled her the way a child needed. Beau wasn't a parent. Not really. Sure, he did what he was legally obligated to as a parent — shelter, clothes, food. (And hardly, even then, as many nights, Josephine was cooking for herself when Mrs. Hall was too busy to do so.) But beyond that, he didn't care. He didn't love Josephine, and that was where the big divide was. He never gave her the love she craved for. He gave her a place to sleep, clothes to put on her back, and food to eat; however, he never gave her attention or any sort of empathy as a person or as his daughter.

              She closed her eyes for a moment, tears pricking in the corners. Josephine didn't want to sleep. She was scared of what was waiting for her when she closed her eyes; when she was her most vulnerable. However, she also didn't want to stay awake, scared of what monsters might be lurking around.

              "Go ahead and sleep," she heard Percy tell Grover, breaking the silence. "I'll wake you up if there's trouble."

              There was silence for a moment, but then, Grover sighed deeply. "It makes me sad, Percy," he admitted.

              Percy was silent for a moment. "... What does?" he finally asked. "The fact you signed up for this stupid quest?"

              Just barely, Josephine cracked her eyes open, her eyes struggling to search through the darkness. Overhead, Grover was gesturing to all the trash below him from his perch. "No." He shook his head at Percy. "This makes me sad. And the sky. You can't even see the stars anymore! They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr ..."