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English
Series:
Part 1 of The Finding Home Saga (OLD VERSION)
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Published:
2020-04-20
Completed:
2021-09-01
Words:
108,313
Chapters:
34/34
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254
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559
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Finding Home (OLD VERSION)

Summary:

AU//When Percy is born two years earlier and Luke is born two years later, the prophecy foretelling an eighteen-year-old hero instead of a sixteen-year-old one isn’t the only thing that changes – because the extent of their relationship does as well.//Aka, the Lukercy (Luke/Percy) rewrite that no one asked for, featuring slash and eventual mpreg. Rated ‘M’ for a reason!

 

THIS IS BEING REWRITTEN, THE REWRITE IS HERE: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37284325/chapters/93029389

Chapter 1: I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher

Notes:

OH MY GODDESS, HELLO EVERYONE! Long time, no see! Like, it’s been literally years since I left you all, and I feel so incredibly guilty about that. Long story short, my life became overrun with my health problems, as my immune system basically crashed and died around 2016 and did not get better until late last year. Getting back into writing since then has been a bit of a challenge, but thanks to this whole social distancing thing, I’ve finally had the time to get my ass in gear and write something!

And by “something”, I mean I actually started writing my first PJO fic. Yes, you read that correctly – my first PJO fic, aka something that I’ve had in the works since...2013? 2014? Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that this fic is my baby, and after years upon years of perfecting its plot and stuff, I finally feel confident enough to share it with you!

But, before you read, please read this paragraph (that is, if you haven’t already read the tags). This fanfiction is a MASSIVE AU that features not only an older!Percy and younger!Luke, but also several tweaks to canon. Like, for instance, in this story Percy does not get along with Annabeth (at least, not at first) and is not friends with Grover...because, well, Grover doesn’t exist in this story. Hate on me for it all you want, but I honestly hate Grover with a burning passion and replacing him with Katie is actually very crucial to Katie’s storyline in this story anyways. Additionally, I am using my own version of Greek mythology for this story, because I hate how Riordan not only used the blandest genealogy out there (there’s dozens of them), but also made several deities OOC by discarding some of their domains, i.e. Demeter (and maybe Rhea? I don’t know. I haven’t read ToA and have no plans to do so). So, I’m reworking the gods’ genealogy and some of their characterizations in order for this story to make sense. If you have a problem with any of this, you’re most likely not going to like this story and should probably stop reading now.

Additionally, I’m just going to say this so I can say that I said it: updates are most likely going to be sporadic. Getting back into the groove of writing is not going to be an immediate process for me, and on top of that I may be out of internet range for some time in the future. (I’m doing my best to get internet there, but we shall see if I get my way or not.) Please, for the love of Goddess and all that’s holy, understand this and don’t spam me with “update soon” messages. Because, if there’s one thing I learned with Of the Night (speaking of which, I’ll update my profile in the next few days about the statuses of my previous stories), it’s that these messages are the number one thing that stopped my motivation.

Now, all of that being said, if you’re still here, great! I really hope that you like this story and I will try my best to get the next chapter up within the next two weeks.

Until then,
~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Look, as I’m sure you’ve heard me say before, I didn’t ask to be a half-blood.

Being a half-blood – regardless as to whether or not you are a demigod, demi-titan, or fabled demi-primordial – is dangerous, and not just because of all of the monsters out there that would love to kill you in dozens upon dozens of painful, nasty ways. It’s also dangerous because when you’re a half-blood, the gods have a tendency to notice you, which can lead to you either becoming their new pet project or getting your ass smitten.

Now, of course, that’s not to say that being a half-blood is a total drag and that nobody would ask to be one. I mean, while I’ve had plenty of bad experiences because of my half-godly status, I’ve also had a lot of experiences because of it that I would classify as the “times of my life” – such as gaining friends that I never would’ve had otherwise, falling in love, and becoming a mom.

(And besides, even if being a half-blood was a total drag, I’m pretty sure that there are people out there who would ask to be half-bloods anyways. Because that’s just how life works.)

So, if you feel like you’re recognizing yourself in these pages – if you feel something stirring deep inside – I want you to take a deep breath before you do anything else, because you may be a half-blood. And that’s dangerous. But it’s also an experience unlike any other, if you decide that you want to risk everything you thought you knew to have it. And if you do decide that, then I encourage you to read on – if not, then I urge you to take another deep breath before closing this book and never opening it again.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

My name is Percy Jackson, by the way. I turned eighteen years old (yes, I know, I’m a young mom, don’t judge me) three months ago, aka August 18th, 2009, aka the day that the entire world went to shit. But that was just for a day and I’m pretty sure most of the mortals – people who aren’t half-bloods – don’t remember it anyways, which I’m relatively thankful for.

Now, I could tell you all about why that day happened – if you remember it, that is – right now, but I’m not going to. Because why that day went to shit is a very complicated thing, and I’m not going to do it justice by explaining it without explaining all of the stuff that makes it complicated.

Instead, I’m going to rewind time back to around three years ago, aka May of 2006. I was in the eighth grade at the time, attending a private boarding school for troubled kids called Yancy Academy in upstate New York.

Was I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

On this particular day in May – of course, of course I forget the date – all twenty-seven of the mental-case kids in the eighth grade at Yancy Academy, along with two teachers, took a field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at some cool ancient Greek and Roman stuff, courtesy of our Latin teacher, Mr. Brunner.

Now, if you didn’t know Mr. Brunner very well, I’m sure this field trip would’ve seemed like the worst thing ever to you. I mean, not to diss on him or anything, but he looked like your stereotypical, middle-aged white guy, which are never fun teachers to have. The fact that he wore tweed jackets that always smelled like coffee and was in a motorized wheelchair only made first impressions of him even worse.

Yet, in all reality, Mr. Brunner was actually a pretty cool dude. He actually taught grammar to help us learn Latin – which was nice, because it helped me out with my problems in English due to my dyslexia – and told us fun stories and jokes as well. Plus, he had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, which made the games that he also let us play in his class even better.

So, basically, I was pretty excited for this trip, which was a weird thing for me to think, much less say, because I didn’t exactly have a good track record when it came to field trips. In fact, out of the eight schools I had been expelled from up to this point in time, five of them had kicked me out to something that I accidentally did or was said to do (in the case of my third grade school) while on a field trip.

But I didn’t want that to happen this time. This time, I was determined to be good.

...Or, at least, as good as I could possibly be, because all the way into the city, I had to put up with Hudson Lake, aka the blonde-haired, whiny douchebag that had a tendency to hit on my best friend, Katie Gardner.

Which, don’t get me wrong, was...not understandable, but unsurprising, I guess? Because Katie was (still is, honestly) very pretty. I mean, she had a very beautiful face, along with long, chocolate brown hair that fell in loose curls and probably the greenest eyes that I’ve ever seen. She was also very smart, to the point that I didn’t really understand just why she was at Yancy Academy and not some other boarding school, regardless if she was “troubled” or not.

Still, despite her beauty and her smarts, the fact that Hudson hit on her when she obviously did not like him back was very much a shitty thing of him to do. And not only did him hitting on her irritate me to no end, but the way that Katie never directly told him to go fuck himself made me pretty angry, too.

For instance, when we were finally almost to the museum, Hudson turned around in his seat with a smirk that simultaneously made my blood boil in anger and my stomach church in disgust, because dear gods was this guy insufferable. His voice was pretty nauseating, too, especially when he said, “Katie,” in a tone that tried to come off as seductive yet only succeeded in making him sound more whiny.

“Hudson,” Katie replied, not even looking up from the rose that she was drawing in her notebook as she sat next to me. “What do you want?”

“Well, there’s a lot of things I want,” he responded smugly, which increased the urge that I had to punch him in the face tenfold. “But you being my partner on this trip is something I want very, very much.”

Ah, yes. Partners. Because as if sending twenty-seven basket-case kids on a field trip wasn’t enough, we also had to fill out a worksheet with a partner about it. That was the only part of the field trip that I wasn’t looking forward to – and even then, it was only because Hudson was using it as an opportunity to flirt with Katie.

Unfortunately for him, though, Katie was his desperate attempts for what they were, as always. “I’m sorry, Hudson,” she said, still not looking up from her drawing, which was horribly amusing. “But I already decided to partner up with Percy.”

“You mean Prissy?” Hudson snorted as he glared at me.

That, if nothing else, caused Katie to look up with a frown on her face, while I clenched my fists and once again ignored the urge to punch him in the nose right there. Because ‘Prissy’ wasn’t just a nickname to bully me or whatever – I mean, it was used to bully me, but it was used to bully me specifically for the fact that I was gay. How Hudson had figured that out with his head so far up his own ass, I have no idea, but ever since he had he had used that nickname to belittle me for it to no end.

But, it seemed that Hudson finally got lucky, because before Katie could reprimand him and before I could punch him in the face, the bus pulled up to the museum and came to a stop. Immediately, all of the other kids around us scrambled to get off, but I just sat there because: one, I needed to cool down, and two, Katie was in the aisle seat and she wasn’t moving yet.

Instead, she was looking at me with a concerned expression on her face. “You okay?” she asked softly.

I shook my head, before mumbling, “I’m going to kill him – for real this time. I swear, I will.”

“No, you won’t,” she said. “Because you know who’ll get blamed if anything happens.”

Looking back on it, I really wish I would’ve ignored her and just punched Hudson as soon as we got off the bus. At least that way he would’ve gotten a taste of what he deserved for once in his life.

Ten minutes later, we were all in the museum, with Mr. Brunner leading the tour while the other teacher, Mrs. Dodds, walked behind us. We walked past big galleries full of marble statues and glass cases that contained black-and-orange pottery, which was all really cool – especially when you considered the fact that this stuff had survived for three thousand years.

Well, it was all really cool to me, anyways. Because nobody else thought it was cool (except for Katie, of course, but she was working on our worksheet), if the fact that they were talking just over Mr. Brunner was anything to go by. Their incessant noise was annoying and really gave me the desire to shout at them to shut up, but every time I opened my mouth Katie gave me a warning look and I felt Mrs. Dodds’s piercing gaze burn into the back of my neck.

You see, Mrs. Dodds hated me. I didn’t really know why – I’d always tried my best to be a good student in pre-algebra – her class – but she seemed to have had a grudge against me ever since she came to the school halfway through the year, after our last math teacher had had a nervous breakdown. 

Supposedly, she came from Georgia to teach troubled students out of “the goodness of her heart”, but I doubted that, what with how she treated me like devil spawn and yet treated Hudson like he was the best kid that had been born since Jesus. And the fact that she always wore a leather jacket and looked like she could ride a Harley into someone’s locker only increased that doubt.

Finally, after walking our way through most of the exhibit, Mr. Brunner came to a stop in front of a thirteen foot tall column with a big sphinx on top, and started talking about how it was a stele, or grave marker, for a girl about our age. I did my best to try to listen to what he had to say, because it was really interesting, but everybody kept on talking and it was grating on my nerves.

After a few minutes, Hudson suddenly snickered something about the naked guy on the column, and his annoying ass voice was enough to make me turn around and snap as quietly as I could, “Will you please shut up?”

Apparently it wasn’t that quiet, though, because in the next instant the whole group laughed and Mr. Brunner stopped telling his story.

“Mr. Jackson,” he said, in a tone that somehow reminded me of Professor McGonagall from the Harry Potter movies. “Do you have something that you want to share with the rest of the class?”

My face felt like it was on fire. “No, sir,” I replied.

Mr. Brunner then pointed to a certain picture on the stele that, somehow, looked vaguely familiar. “Well, here’s the chance to. Do you know what this picture represents?”

I stared at it unblinking for a few moments, before it suddenly clicked in my brain just why the carving looked familiar. “That’s Kronos eating his kids, right?”

Mr. Brunner nodded. “That’s right. Now, can you tell us why he did this?”

“Well...” I began. “Kronos was the king god, and – ”

“God?” Mr. Brunner interjected.

“Titan,” I corrected myself. “It was his kids who were the gods. And he didn’t trust them, because when he overthrew his own father, his father told him that one day his kids would do the same to him. So he ate them. But after Rhea, his wife, gave birth to their sixth kid, Zeus, she hid him in the wilderness and gave Kronos a rock instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked Kronos into barfing up all of his siblings – ”

“Gross!” one of the girls in our class shrieked.

“So that they could go to war with their father and all of the other titans who hadn’t done anything to help them. And they did. And the gods won,” I finished.

Some snickers broke out in the group, but nobody said anything – except for Hudson. Because it was precisely then that Hudson decided to open his big mouth and say, “Mr. Brunner, why is this important? I mean, when are we ever going to be required to know and explain just why Kronos ate his kids?”

As you can probably guess, Mr. Brunner turned to look at me again. “Mr. Lake has just made an excellent point,” he said. “Mr. Jackson, can you think of a reason why this might matter in real life?”

I pondered it for a moment, before saying, “Well, if I wanted to become a Latin teacher like you, Mr. Brunner, knowing what the Romans, the people who originally spoke Latin, believed in would be important in helping me and others understand their language, right?”

“A good answer,” he replied, and yet for some reason he seemed to be...disappointed? Was that it? “Full credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which caused him to disgorge his other five siblings – Hestia, Hades, Poseidon, Demeter, and Hera – who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in his stomach. The gods then went on to defeat their father, cut him up into pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. And on that happy note, I believe it is time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?”

The class walked off, the girls talking about how disgusting the whole presentation was and the guys pushing each other around and laughing their asses off. Katie and I were about to follow them when I heard Mr. Brunner say, “Mr. Jackson.”

Katie looked at me, concerned, but I just shrugged and told her to keep going before turning to look at Mr. Brunner. “Sir?”

He looked at me with what I liked to call his “thousand year old stare”, because it was an intense look that made him look like he was incredibly ancient and had seen everything. “While your answer about why all of this might matter in real life was a good one, it wasn’t one, I think, that applies to you,” he said calmly. “In the future, I expect one that does. Because everything that I teach you, Mr. Jackson, is vitally important – and you should treat it as such.”

My eyes burned with tears then, and I hated that they did. Because while I tried fairly hard in Mr. Brunner’s class – in all of my classes, even – it just never seemed to be enough for him. He always expected me, and Katie to a lesser extent, to be better than everyone else, despite the fact that I had dyslexia and ADHD on top of it. And it wasn’t fair, especially when we both knew that I just couldn’t do it.

“Okay, Mr. Brunner,” I mumbled as I turned to walk away before he could get another word in.

The fact that he didn’t even stop me for leaving before I was dismissed or whatever only made me feel worse.

Outside, the class had gathered on the front steps of the museum, while overhead a wicked storm was brewing. I found myself shuddering at it for no reason – but then again, the weather in the entirety of the state had been weird since Christmas, with back-to-back snowstorms, flooding, and wildfires from lightning strikes. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised if this storm was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seemed to notice the shitty weather, though. They were all busy with talking, pickpocketing, and pelting pigeons with food from their packed lunches. Typical.

I sat down next to Katie on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. “Detention?” she asked concernedly.

“Nah,” I replied. “Not from Brunner. I just...I wish he’d lay off on me sometimes, you know? I mean, I’m not smart or anything – not like you.”

Katie didn’t say anything for a while, which I didn’t mind, because I wasn’t really in the mood to hear her tell me I was smart or something like that to make me feel better – because I wasn’t. 

Smart, I mean. I wasn’t smart, and I knew it.

Wistfully, I watched the cabs streaming past us down Fifth Avenue, and thought about my mom’s apartment, which was only a little ways uptown from where we were. In fact, the distance was probably short enough that I could walk there, and gods, did I want to. I hadn’t seen my mom since Christmas, and I wanted to hug her and tell her about Katie, who had been my first friend in who knows how long.

But, of course, I knew what would follow that conversation. My mom would ask me why I wasn’t at Yancy and I’d have to explain that I ran away from my field trip and she’d be – well, she would be disappointed. And if there was one thing that I didn’t want to do, it was make my mom be disappointed in me.

Sometime during this daydreaming of mine, Mr. Brunner had come outside and parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while reading what, to me, looked like one of those trashy paperback novels, and I almost snickered at the thought.

‘Almost’ being the key word here. Because just as soon as I noticed him reading that novel, I also noticed that Hudson Lake was sauntering his way towards Katie and I, causing me to scowl. “Douchebag alert,” I whispered snidely, causing my best friend to snort before she rolled her eyes.

“Very mature, Percy.”

Now, looking back on it, that statement was kind of funny, because neither of us was prepared for Hudson to straight up dump his half-eaten lunch on me with a feral grin. I mean, outside of calling me “Prissy”, he had never really bullied me before, but I guess the fact that Katie chose me, the gay guy, as her partner had really struck a nerve with him or something like that.

“Oops,” Hudson said sarcastically. “Sorry, Prissy.”

I tried to stay cool. After all, as Katie said, I knew who would get blamed if anything happened on this field trip – me, that’s who. But I was so, so mad at all of the shit that Hudson had pulled on this field trip, that my mind went blank. A wave roared in my ears.

I don’t remember touching him, but the next thing I knew, Hudson was sitting on his ass in the middle of the fountain – with leaves in his hair, strangely enough – yelling, “Percy pushed me!”

In the next instant, Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

All around us, the other kids were whispering. “Did you see – ”

“ – the water – ”

“ – like it grabbed him – ”

“ – and those vines – ”

I didn’t know what they were talking about. All I knew was that, as Mrs. Dodds turned towards me with a sickly grin on her face, after having helped Hudson to his feet and made sure that he was alright, that I was in deep ass shit.

“Now, honey,” she crooned softly.

“I know, I know,” I grumbled. “Time for me to spend a month erasing workbooks.”

Obviously, that hadn’t been the right thing to say, if the way that Mrs. Dodds scowled and said, “Come with me,” was any indicator.

“Wait!” Katie suddenly yelped, and both of us turned to look at her. Much to my surprise, her face was pale and her eyes were wide, like she knew that something much more worse than a verbal talking to was going to happen. “It was me. I pushed her.”

I stared at her, stunned and a little touched. I couldn’t believe that Katie was trying to cover for me, because it wasn’t exactly a characteristic thing of her to do.

Mrs. Dodds, though, didn’t buy her lie, not even for a single second. “I do t think so, Ms. Gardner,” she said coldly.

“But – ”

“You. Will. Stay. Here.”

Katie looked at me desperately, as if she was trying to tell me something that she couldn’t explain with Mrs. Dodds right there. The thought made me uneasy, but I did my best to smile as I told her, “It’s okay, Katie. Thanks for trying.”

“Honey,” Mrs. Dodds said impatiently. “Now.”

Hudson Lake smirked.

I gave him my deluxe kill-you-later glare, before I turned to face Mrs. Dodds – except, she wasn’t there. She was, instead, standing at the museum entrance, already at the top of the steps, and gesturing impatiently for me to come with her.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, because I was so sure, ADHD or not, that she had just been standing right next to me. And if that was true, then how on earth did she manage to get there so fast?

Nevertheless, I followed after her, my heart hammering in my chest as I did.

Mrs. Dodds, much to my surprise, went back inside the museum instead of chewing me out right in front of it. I followed her through the entrance hall, thinking that she was going to make me go to the gift shop and buy Hudson a new shirt or something like that.

But apparently, that wasn’t part of the plan.

I followed her deeper into the museum, all the way back to the Greek and Roman section, in fact, until we were standing in front of the stele again. Well, more like she was standing in front of it, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face as she made this deep, throaty sound that made shivers go down my spine. I stood a good ten feet away from her, my eyes darting around the gallery nervously as I noted the fact that, except for us, the entire room was empty.

“You’ve been giving us problems, honey,” she said.

Not sure of what else to do, I replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. “Did you really think that you would get away with it, honey? That you could steal not one, but two symbols of power?”

Symbols of what? What was she talking about? “I-I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Dodds,” I stammered out, both confused and terrified at the same time.

“We are not fools, Percy Jackson,” she growled. “It was only a matter of time before we found out – before we realized that the thief was you. Confess, and you will suffer less pain.”

I still didn’t know what she was talking about. As a powerful batch of thunder shook the building, all I realized that I could hope for was that this entire ordeal was a dream, because otherwise it was reality and none of it made any sense at all.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Ma’am, I really don’t – ”

And that was when shit really hit the fan. Because, in the next instant, Mrs. Dodds’s eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. And her leathery jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn’t human. She was a shriveled bag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and I was pretty sure that she was just itching to slice me into ribbons.

Then, if at all possible, things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who’d been out in front of the museum before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, while holding a strange, fancy pen in his hand. You know, like one of those designer types or whatever.

“What ho, Percy!” he shouted, before tossing the pen in the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.

With instincts that I didn’t even know that I had, I dodged her as best as I could and vaguely felt talons slash the air next to my ear. Then, I snatched the fancy, bronze-colored pen, except when it hit my hand, it suddenly wasn’t a pen anymore. Instead, it was a sword – Mr. Brunner’s bronze sword, which he had showed to us once after my team won a game on one of his tournament days.

Mrs. Dodds lunged towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad that I almost dropped the sword.

The monster – because that was what Mrs. Dodds was, what she had to be – snarled, “Die, honey!”

And then she flew straight towards me.

Absolute terror ran through my body. But so did a thousand tiny voices of instinct, all screaming at me to swing the sword.

So I did.

The metal blade hit her shoulder, before passing clean through her body like she was made of butter. A distinctive hissing sound rang out in the air as the blade moved through her, and I could see her face just enough out of the corner of my eye to see the utter shock that spread across it, before...

...Before...

...Before she exploded into a yellow powder and vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill in the air, as if those two glowing, coal-like eyes were still watching me.

I was alone.

The sword was still, somehow, in my hands, but Mr. Brunner wasn’t there. In fact, nobody was there but me.

With shaky hands, I lifted up the sword, looking for signs of blood or anything like that. But there was nothing of notice, and all I managed to see was the cap of the pen in the reflection of the bronze metal.

Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed the cap and held it next to the sword. A strange, magnetic pull pulled the cap – and my hand along with it – to the tip of the sword, before the cap settled on it and the sword somehow transformed back into the pen.

“What the fuck?” I whispered as I held the pen-sword in my hands.

Knowing that the pen was now the only proof I had that something had happened here – because something had definitely happened, of that I had no doubt – I shoved the pen into my pocket before scrambling to my feet and walking out of the museum.

Outside, it had started to rain.

Katie was still sitting by the fountain and her face was still pale as well, but when she saw me she did her best to give me a smile. At the same time, Hudson Lake was standing not too far away from her, still soaked from the water fountain with leaves in his hair. When he saw me, he smirked and said, “I hope Ms. Kerr whooped your ass.”

I blinked. “Who?”

“Our teacher, Prissy. Who else?”

An uneasy feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. We had no teacher named Ms. Kerr. I asked Hudson what he was talking about.

He just rolled his eyes and turned away.

I asked Katie where Mrs. Dodds was.

At first, she opened her mouth to say something, but then she closed it, before leaning in so that I could feel her hot, shaky breaths on my ear. In a trembling voice, she whispered, “I can’t tell you. For now, act normal. Everything will make sense...eventually.”

After she pulled away, I looked at her apprehensively, before I nodded, grateful for the fact that at least my best friend believed me and wasn’t lying or whatever.

Then I turned to look at Mr. Brunner. He was back to sitting at the end of the handicapped ramp, trashy paperback novel still in his hands, as if he had never moved. For a moment, I thought about going up there and giving him the pen back, before I realized that it was the only piece of evidence that I had – besides Katie’s words – that whatever had happened had, well, happened.

So I kept the pen in my pocket and didn’t move.

Notes:

Next Chapter Title: Necessity Pays Me A Visit