¹Pocket Full of Posies, p. jackson

v. Ghosts or Angry Tourists

chapter five
❛ ghosts or angry tourists ❜

━━━━━  POSIE PRESSED BOTH of her hands into the soft sand, dragging her face out of the dune, leaving behind a muddied cast of her features. She spat out clumps of sand, gagging at the feeling of the grittiness all throughout her mouth — her teeth, gums, and tongue. She climbed back onto her feet, her hands slipping through the sand as she stumbled to the top of the dune. Her eyes stung as she wiped any lingering grains from her face, looking for any sign of Percy — the son of Poseidon was closer to the shore, standing at the edge of a blanket, with Coca-Cola cans at his feet and two odd-looking items in his hands. Even weirder, four duffel bags were placed along the disturbed, sandy blanket.

She called his name, but he hardly stirred, continuing to frown at all the items surrounding him. With no other option, she began climbing down the other side of the dune — only to end up nearly rolling the way down. She cursed quietly, pushing herself back onto her feet, wiping the sand from her hands onto her sleeping shorts.

Honestly ... grumbled Onesimus. Could you be any clumsier?

You're the one who woke me from a dead sleep by yelling my name! she quickly snapped back.

I saved you from another weird vision-dream-thing, Posie! Besides, I thought I heard Percy yelling for help ...

She had no argument to make as she, too, thought she heard Percy yelling for help. That was the only reason she had listened to Onesimus, climbing out of her comfortable bunk, knocking her shoulder on the door frame as she left Cabin Seven.

Posie managed to climb the length of the sand dune (and without falling or breaking any bones, too). She walked through the sand, laying a hand on the son of Poseidon's shoulder roughly. "Percy!" she called, praying he would at least hear her this time.

The black-haired boy jumped, whirling around to face her. She quickly let go of his shoulder, spreading her fingers in some attempt to show she wasn't a threat. Fortunately, Percy didn't lunge for her, his posture loosening when he recognized her. Instead of responding, he reached down to the four duffel bags, tossing one to her.

Posie caught the brightly-colored bag, holding it with both arms as she frowned in confusion. "What's this? I thought you were in trouble! That's why I came."

"We are —" Percy bent down to grab a second duffel bag by the handles, tossing it to Annabeth as she was cresting to this side of the dune. He grimaced suddenly. "Well, I sorta am," he admitted.

His response only confused the two more (somehow). Annabeth held the duffel bag to her chest, frowning at the son of Poseidon. "What's going on?" she demanded. "I heard you calling for help!"

Maybe ten or so steps behind Annabeth was Tyson (at the appearance of the Cyclops, the daughter of Athena quickly scowled at him, but she wiped that expression from her face as quickly as it appeared; perhaps she didn't want another spat with Percy). He was cresting the peak of the sand dune, nodding fervently. "Me, too!" he agreed. "Heard you yell, 'Bad things are attacking!'"

Percy shook his head, still mystified by whatever had given him all the items. "I didn't call you guys," he admitted. "But ... I'm fine."

Annabeth walked the rest of the way down, stopping at the ruffled blanket at Percy's feet. "But, then who ...?" She glanced down at the duffle bag in her arms, then the weird, old-fashioned flask from lunch boxes that Percy held (Posie was mystified to see it colored the same as the ancient Greek vases, carved to look the same, even with Heracles lifting Cerberus over his head), and a clear bottle full of multi-colored, oddly-shaped vitamins (Posie thought the purple ones looked to be Hydra shaped). Her grey eyes narrowed as her brain took all the information in, and she glanced up sharply. "Percy, what —?"