High School For Percy

The Return of Percy Jackson

Ferris Gyver's POV

This is going to sound really bad, but I kind of hoped he wouldn't come back. There was something about him I couldn't figure out. It bothered me not knowing things. I didn't know why I didn't want him to ever come back. That bothered me even more. 

Flash backward. 

It's Freshman year, everyone is flustered about entering the new school year. Will they make friends? Will they pass their classes? Will they learn how much wood a woodchuck would chuck? There was a light hum from people chatting in the corridors. Some louder, some softer, some dripping in sarcastic gravy, others swimming in words of anguish. Whatever the case, none was quite like Percy Jackson. He didn't talk to anyone. Instead, he sat in the back of the classroom, pulled out a single blue notebook that was smashed from his bag, and stared out the window while fiddling with a pen.

He didn't look upset. Most kids that didn't talk to anyone and sat in the back were consistently angry with some variation of the world. Either that or they wore a lot of black clothing. Maybe both. Percy was neither. He actually looked content. He sat back in his chair, took a deep breath and relaxed into the fold of the seat. He twirled the pen, and it slid across his knuckles playfully. His face was relaxed. Eyebrows slightly raised, eyes alert, lips pulled into a breath of a grin. It seemed as though for too long he had been amidst a raging sea, that the storm had finally settled and he was admiring a rainbow.

I remember that Percy Jackson. The Percy Jackson who laughed and did stupid things just to spread the laughter. The one who savored the moment. To most, that's all they saw. They didn't see the confusing parts. Maybe they did subconsciously, he never had many friends despite his charisma. There was something off. Whenever he relaxed back into the chair, his shoulders stayed straight, ready. His alert eyes scanned for enemies and exits, ready. His head always turning, his feet staying poised on the toes when he sat, the way he held that pen, he was ready. Always ready. I just couldn't figure out what for.

Then he disappeared. Halfway through our sophomore year, he went on winter break and didn't come back. Nobody seemed to care, even if they noticed. He was still just the kid who sat in the back of the class and didn't speak unless spoken to. Everyone got over it when he didn't return for the rest of the year. They kind of assumed he was expelled having heard the rumors of previous expulsions handed to the teenager. 

I didn't think I'd see him again. In a way, I still haven't. The Percy Jackson I remember from what is now just eight months ago is long gone. He died. In the back of the class sits a different guy. A man. Sure, his hair was the same jet black that glistened in the light as unruly as headphone cords. His eyes were still the color of the sea, but instead of a calming spring, they were the exact shade of the water that surrounds a recent shipwreck. Still churning. Impossibly dark with despair. 

His shoulders hunched over with the weight of the world. The smile lines around his eyes had faded and dark circles came in their place. He wore a hood that cast a shadow on his face and jeans that looked like they'd been washed along with some rusty barbed wire. He was still off. But different off. Instead of being ready, it was like he was waiting for something bad to happen. Like it was only a matter of time. 

The only time I'd seen anyone with the expression on his face was a video of war heroes that had been raising awareness on PTSD.

What the Hell happened to Percy Jackson.

A/N 

This is a link to my Pinterest board that has a bunch of stuff on my OC Ferris. 

https://www.pinterest.com/zoboo301/oc-board-ferris-gyver/