The Life I'm Running From

41\ Tsunami In My Heart

A green beanie, five plastic forks, ten pairs of holey socks, and I still can't find my dagger. It wasn't necessary, but I'd like to have some sort of backup I can pull out of my boot if my sword is taken. Too bad I left it in my closet. My closet is probably the closest equivalent to the River Styx there is out of the Underworld.

I knelt down, my knees hitting a bit too hard on the thin carpet. Down here, my sneakers smelled even worse. I ignored the smell and started to grab shirts out of the wad of clothing in the corner. There was an old band tee Piper gave me last year, along with a stained peplum shirt. As I removed the last tank top, no knife was fortunately revealed. Instead I had a mess and an empty closet.

My phone dinged but I ignored it. At eight in the morning on a Saturday, it was either Harley sending me a good morning text or a notification from Candy Crush. I didn't need to see either.

I picked up a pile of shirts and chucked them back into my closet. A bright orange one didn't quite make it and got stuck on a fallen hanger. The putrid colour made me catch my breath. I only had one offensively orange shirt.

Tentatively, as if it might bite me, I picked it up. The black block writing was still bold, if a bit faded. Camp Half-Blood. The home for demigods.

I vaguely remember tossing it in here on my first day of school. So much has changed since then. But I still haven't gone back there, and I don't know if I ever will.

Despite that, I found myself taking off my sweater and slipping on the t-shirt. It felt rough over my skin. It was probably still covered in bacteria, or whatever remained on your shirt after you sweat and it dries. ('Cause let me tell you, based on the dirt on the hem, it hadn't been washed in a really long time.)

I stepped in front of the mirror. The orange colour was still unflattering on me, and the size just a bit too big. (I'm not a large, Leo.) I slowly tied my hair up into a ponytail, and pulled my necklace out of my shirt. The image brought back violent memories, all at once and all too fast.

"Are these seriously the shirts for the camp?" I asked Chiron, pulling at my new shirt. "Why orange?"

The old centaur had the audacity to smile. "Why not?"

I huffed, looking back in the mirror at my appearance. Apparently they don't have kids' sizes at this place, so I was stuck with an extra small. Which, newsflash, for a nine year old girl is too big. The hem covered most of my thighs and even a hair tie couldn't reduce the bagginess.

But at least I'm keeping my family safe.

I breathed in deeply. Mom and Jaiden are still safe. That hasn't changed.

I pulled on my Camp Half-Blood t-shirt over my black tank top, and it got stuck on my chest. Swearing, I tried to yank it down. Percy was sitting on his bed, trying not to laugh at my struggle.

"Oh shut up," I told my older brother. For only being a year older than me, he sure was a pain in the butt.

Percy crossed his legs, stupidly grinning like the thirteen year-old boy he was. "It's funny."

I stuck my tongue out at him and went to my dresser. There was a knife on top and I used it to cut open the side of the shirt. It fit me now, just with a gaping hole showing most of my midriff.

"How many sizes have you gone through lately?" Percy laid back on his bed. "Thirty?"

I dropped the scraps of fabric to the floor. "It's called gaining muscle, idiot. Something you wouldn't know the half of."