𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀, percy jackson

04. we get ambushed on the train

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜
chapter four: we get ambushed on the train

[a/n]: ahh chapter three! it's harder to write this plot when i'm not sure exactly what will happen in each episode, and therefore, in each chapter, but it's a fun new challenge. i hope you guys enjoy this chapter!
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━━━ ALL WAS SILENT IN THE train cabin, the faint chugging of the wheels filling the air. The room was cloaked with darkness, like a canvas tarp covering old patio furniture. Annabeth and Percy were laying on the floor, while Isabel occupied the top bunk, and Grover snored on the bottom.

Isabel stared at her hands intently, barely visible in the black shadows. She had nothing to do; her cuticles were picked raw and her nails were bitten down to the quick. "Hey, Percy?" she croaked, her voice hoarse and on the cusp of a yawn. "You up?"

"Yeah."

She paused. "It doesn't look very comfy down there. There's space up here." Ideally, she would have asked Annabeth, but she seemed to be okay. She was out cold, her face stuffed into her pillow.

Percy's cheeks were ablaze with crimson wildfire. It was a strange offer, especially coming from a person like her, who always seemed reluctant to have any sort of interaction with him. "I, uh, don't-" he stammered. "I'm okay here."

"Alright."

"You know, Grover's right, Elle, you don't talk much," Percy said, staring up at the ceiling. He folded his hands over his stomach.

"Why should I?" Isabel pulled her blanket tighter over her torso.

"I don't know," he admitted. "What if somebody wanted to get to know you?"

Isabel grinned up into the bluish black nothing. "Percy, are you saying you want to get to know me?"

"I could be."

Isabel considered his words for a second. "Okay," she said slowly. "What would you ask me?"

"I don't know," Percy whispered. "How 'bout...what's your middle name?"

"Halley," she replied.

"Okay. Why Halley?" Percy pressed. "What's the story?"

"My aunt gave me the name," Isabel said wistfully, her voice becoming distant the way someone did when they were going through a film reel of memories. "She said it's because I come once in a lifetime."

"That's cool," Percy remarked. "And what's in that notebook of yours? You hold it like it's your most prized possession."

"It is."

"Why?"

"Because it's got all of my stories in it," Isabel answered. Even now, her notebook lay beside her along with her backpack. She ran her fingers along the textured edge of the cover, smiling.

"You write?" Percy asked, his curiosity piqued now. So that's what she was always doing. For some reason, he felt like he had been let in on some sort of secret, even though he was probably the last of the quartet to know.

"That's generally what notebooks are for, yes," Isabel quipped.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I write," Isabel said, her tone serious this time. "It's like...if I said the stuff I write out loud, people would think I was a psycho. But put pen to paper, and it could be beautiful."