Perseus 'Percy' Potter

Chapter 10 : A call and a new routine

A/N : Last chapter was so long to write like 2 or 3 night of writing.

Percy POV :

After the tour with Annabeth I went back to cabin eleven. I took my phone and decided to call James.

"Hello ?"

"Hey, Prongs."

"Hey Aqua ! How are you ?"

"Not so good. I'll tell you exactly why at my birthday."

"Why did you call."

"It's about Mom."

"D-did Sa-ally die ?"

"No."

"Then what ?"

"Be carefull James. I think she might have been captured. After what happened a few month ago..."

"Yes, I'll be. Lily is calling me I'll call you ! Bye, Percy !"

"Bye Prongs."

I turned off my phone and saw the others staring at me. I put my phone into my pocket and stared back at them.

"What ?"

"Who are Prongs and James ?" One asked.

"What's your name ?"

"Ethan, I'm unclaimed like you."

"Well, it's one of my oldest friend. Prongs is his nickname."

"Why did you use your phone when you shouldn't have ?" Someone else asked.

"Don't worry I won't do it again inside camp."

///Timeskip///

The next few days I settled into a routine that felt almost normal, if you don't count the fact that I was getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur.

Each morning I took Ancient Greek from Annabeth, and we talked about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which was kind of weird.

The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something I was good at. Chiron tried to teach me archery, but we found out pretty quick I wasn't any good with a bow and arrow. He didn't complain, even when he had to desnag a stray arrow out of his tail.

Foot racing? I was decent. The wood-nymph instructors left me in the dust at the begining but I was now a few meters behind them. They told me not to
worry about it. They'd had centuries of practice running away from lovesick gods. But still, it was a little humiliating to be slower than a tree.

And wrestling? I didn't know. Every time I got on the mat, Clarisse would try to pulverize me but Grandpa had trained me a bit so I won half the time.

The only thing I really excelled at was canoeing, and that wasn't the kind of heroic skill people expected to see from the kid who had beaten the Minotaur.

I knew the senior campers and counselors were watching me, trying to decide who my dad was, but they weren't having an easy time of it. I wasn't as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids. I didn't have Hephaestus's skill with metalwork or—gods forbid— Dionysus's way with vine plants. Luke told me I might be a child of Hermes, a kind of jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I know my father is someone else, someone much more powerfull.