that summer |percabeth au| ✔︎

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Mud Wrestling

"Figured I'd find you here, Stowaway."

I sat up as Percy stepped into the saloon, windblown and a little buzzed. I'd been camped out in my formerly favorite spot in the V-berth, and I wasn't expecting him; it had only been half an hour since I'd left the bonfire.

"Artemis took off with that mouth-breather, and Travis is out there trolling for a first mate. Even Drew and Piper turned him down. Katie's trying to help, but the whole thing was pretty pathetic." He slumped onto the saloon bench, turned his gaze on me. His voice was soft. "I couldn't watch."

I nodded. Percy rarely showed it, but I knew it hurt him, having to race against one of his best friends.

Having to follow his father's orders just because his father—Travis' too—was the kind of man whose orders were simply followed, no room for discussion.

"That yours?" Percy's attention was captured by something on the table across from him. It was a white envelope, a ­typewritten label stuck on the front with a single directive: FOR REGATTA EXPENSES ONLY.

I shook my head as he tore it open. Until now I hadn't even noticed it.

"Holy sh*t," he said. After a pause so heavy it threatened to sink the boat, he said, "Annabeth. There's fifteen hundred bucks in here."

My mouth dropped open. 

"No note," he said, double-checking the envelope. "Someone wants us to win. Bad. Candy?"

Again I shook my head. Candy hadn't had any big sculpture sales lately, and the store was more of a hobby than a real source of income. She seemed to do all right with the art and herbal cosmetics, and she'd been a saver all her life—something she tried to instill in me and Katie any chance she got. But I was pretty sure she didn't have that kind of cash just lying around.

Besides, Candy wasn't one for keeping secrets. She would've told me if she'd planned to give money for the cause.

"One of the girls, maybe? Piper? Drew?"

I shrugged. I hadn't seen them leave the fire tonight, so if it was one of them, they would've had to sneak onto the boat this afternoon, before the bonfire started. It was possible, but neither seemed like the kind of person who'd leave a gift like that without taking credit.

"This is . . . I mean, we could really use this. The boat needs electrical and cosmetic work, and we haven't even looked at the sails yet." His words quickened with excitement, imagination already spending the cash. "It's not yours? For sure?"

I almost laughed.

"Jesus. This regatta gets shadier every year. Not that I'm about to look that gift horse in the mouth." He counted the money once more, slipped it back into the envelope. After a beat he set it back on the table. "What are you up to in here, anyway? More poetry?"

I shifted over in the V-berth as he approached, making space to fit him.

He slid in next to me, and we both leaned back, looking at the walls and ceiling that held so many of my secrets. The heat I'd felt with him on the shore seeped again into the small nook, and outside, the Pacific churned and hissed, rocking us gently. There were no stars now, but the moon had found its way through the clouds, and pale silver light shone in the small window behind us.

Cozy. That's the word that came to me. Cozy and . . . safe.

Percy reached up and touched the first words I'd written on his boat, a poem called Plan B. It wasn't my best, but it was honest, exactly what I'd been feeling that night.

"This one," he said, keeping his voice low, "says a lot."

plan B

plan Battered and Broken