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It must have been a new world record for how long it took Bronte to pack her things. Especially considering the fact that she only had one spare set of clothes, Sharky the stuffed animal, her sketchbook and pencil, and Percy's jacket.
Bronte threw on her spare clothes—a pair of jean shorts and a blue t-shirt—and tossed Percy's jacket over her shirt, leaving it unzipped. She then picked her duffel bag up, turning it sideways to wear like a backpack.
Bronte made her way to cabin three, recalling her friend saying to meet up there.
When she walked into the cabin, she had to stop to admire the beauty. It looked just like she imagined, walls covered in seashells and big windows that faced the lake.
Percy was sitting on his bed, tying his shoes, but looked up when he saw a figure enter.
"Hey," he breathed, stopping what he was doing. "You all packed?"
"Yup," Bronte smiled, turning to show her duffel bag on her back. "How much did they give you?"
While Bronte was packing, Percy was sent to the camp store. They loaned him one-hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas.
"Not enough," he sighed, placing his hands on his knees and standing up.
When Percy told Bronte how much money he was given, her jaw dropped. She knew it was not going to be enough to get to the west, so she started thinking of ways to get money. Maybe they could pretend to be homeless and do magic tricks or something.
Percy stared at the windows, the waves crashing against the shore in the distance.
"Hey, you okay?" Bronte asked, brows furrowed in worry. She saw the distant look in his eyes and knew something was wrong.
"Huh, oh, uh, yeah," Percy coughed, clearing his throat. "Just...thinking."
"About your mom?"
"What– no."
Bronte raised a brow, walking over to sit on his bed. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Percy."
"Okay, fine," he groaned, letting his head fall back.
Percy regretted everything. He should have been the one to go, not his mom. She did nothing but protect him until the very end and all he did was just stand there and watch it happen. He hated how his dad only claimed him when he needed something done. Now the fate of the world is in his hands and he wants to throw it all away.
The gods were cruel and lazy and didn't care about their kids. Percy thought about all of the kids in the Hermes cabin who stared daggers at him for being claimed so quickly. They waited for so long to be wanted by their godly parent, but they never spared them a second.
"We'll get her back, you know," Bronte said, watching as Percy argued with himself.
