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Sally was more than used to her parenting being questioned. From other parents and teachers, it was the usual stuff: “Percy doesn’t pay attention,” or “Percy is too disruptive,” and the most dreadful, “Don’t you think it’d help if Percy had a male role model in his life?” (there was Gabe, of course, but Sally neglected to mention him considering he wasn’t much of a father figure, least of all a role model). From people on Percy’s dad’s side of the family, it was a little harder to brush off. “Who is his father?” they would demand, prompting her to lie and claim to not know.
The worst questions regarding her parenting were from Percy himself. She would try to stand up to Gabe in any way he could, but was never able to answer her son when he asked why she wouldn’t just leave. The voices in her head would scream at her for being so dishonest with him: for letting him think that there was something wrong with him, that he would never fit in or that he needed to change for the chance to. For letting him think that she held so little respect for herself and him that she would marry a man that treated them like nothing. “Why do you want to get rid of me so badly?” he would ask. “Why do you stay with him, Mom?”, “What’s wrong with me?”, “Am I stupid?”, “Why can’t I just be normal?”. Each question hurt her heart a little more every time.
He could be, a voice that sounded a lot like Chiron’s would remind her. He would be normal if he were around others like him. Other demigods.
No, she would remind herself. He wouldn’t be normal. He would be a pawn.
She would sit with Percy when he was hunched over the dining table, sticking his tongue out as he concentrated on his English homework, the words floating on the page. She wanted to tell him so badly, but she held herself back. He needed to know who he was before the gods told him who they wanted him to be.
It had become a mantra, a school of thought. A line she used to win any argument with Chiron, or Percy’s father, or even Grover. She would do everything in her power to make sure that Percy understood himself as a person before he was shoved into the box of a demigod.
Regrettably, that entailed hiding a part of himself from him, but she tried to overcome that in any way she could. She may have stayed with Gabe for reasons she’d couldn’t tell him yet, but she never allowed him to think that his treatment of her was acceptable; she fought against every word that left his mouth, including his mockery of blue food. Blue dye became her way of allowing Percy to discover and appreciate a side of him that didn’t fit in, that wasn’t quite normal, without endangering him and placing him at the mercy of Olympus. Most of all, it taught him to never blindly accept the doubt that people threw his way, or the roles he was unwillingly assigned.
She knew not everyone had the same parenting style as her, but it was never something she had to confront. Not until after Percy’s first summer at camp.
When Percy first mentioned the wonderful, brave, wise girl (who happened to be a friend) from camp, Sally was tempted to tease him a bit, maybe ask ‘Is she cute?’ (though from the look on Percy’s face, she was sure the answer was yes). She held back though; Percy didn’t have many friends growing up, much less female ones, so she supposed she should steer clear of any potentially… flustering topics.
He didn’t make it easy though.
“Annabeth picked Hermes’ pocket,” he told her as they passed by the police station on the way to school. “She’s multi-talented.”
When they were on their way to see the new Pixar movie, he told her, “Annabeth still hasn’t seen that many movies. I told her to watch Jaws, though. I’m waiting for her to write back and tell me what she thought.”
“I don’t know what she did, Mom,” Percy whispered as the lights in the theatre went down. “I don’t know how she got me out of that statue thing. She wouldn’t tell me. I don’t think she has any secret powers.” He took a sip of his Cherry Coke. “She probably did something really cool though. It was pretty awesome of her to save me, huh?”
As they were getting up for intermission he told her, “Y’know, she hugged me once. Twice, actually. It wasn’t a big deal though. I was chilling.”
One fine morning, Percy’s alarm was going off. He, of course, chose to ignore this. She knocked on his door. “Percy! School!”
No response. She sighed and opened the door, walking to his nightstand and turning the alarm off.
Percy hummed contently. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I wasn’t turning it off so you could sleep more,” she chided. “Get your butt up. You have that test today.”
“As if that’s gonna make me wake up faster,” he groaned but obliged, reluctantly crawling out of bed. Sally turned her gaze away, but something caught her eye in Percy’s mirror. Or rather, on Percy’s mirror.
It was a picture, lined with black and white polka dotted washi tape. A young girl around Percy’s age with dark skin, long black braids and a bright smile. She looked proud, like she had built the place herself.
Percy must’ve noticed her looking amidst rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Oh, that’s Annabeth,” he said sleepily. “I’ve told you about Annabeth, right?”
“You’ve mentioned her,” Sally said, her tone lightly teasing. “Come on. Brush your teeth or you’re gonna be late.”
It wasn’t the first time she had seen Percy like this. With his ADHD, he had hyperfixations all the time. Mainly on skateboarding tricks, the late Jurassic period, and the solar system. Never on a person, though. Not like this.
But from the way Percy was slamming his desk drawers open and shut after school searching for a fresh piece of paper to mail to Virginia, anxiously testing all his pens to make sure they had enough ink, she had a pretty good idea of how Percy felt about this girl.
“She’s really smart,” he raved. “Her mom’s Athena, so she’s all about wisdom and strategy and… olives, I guess? It’s a little annoying because she always acts like she’s better than me, but she pretty much is. She’s been training at camp since she was seven,” he said in awe. “Can you believe that?”
Sally’s eyebrows shot up. She couldn’t believe that. “Seven?”
He nodded, scribbling in the corner of what looked like his math homework and sighing at the dryness of his pen. “Seven.”
“And her other parent was fine with this?”
“Her dad,” Percy hesitated, tossing the pen aside. “They didn’t… get along that well when Annabeth was younger.”
“Didn’t get along?” she repeated in disbelief. “With a seven year old?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “It is pretty messed up, huh?”
The room felt hot. “So, what? They didn’t get along so he sent her off to camp? That young?”
“She, uh,” Percy mumbled. “She ran away, actually. That’s why she’s been fighting monsters way longer than me.”
Sally felt like she had been stabbed in the chest.
It’s not that she had been the perfect parent. She was afraid more than a few times, when Percy was too young to understand her intentions, that he might grow to resent her. But she never could have imagined letting it go that far. No matter how difficult it was, she wouldn’t have him think that being under her roof was worse than a life of danger and fear. Whether that meant getting rid of Gabe and throwing their physical safety to the wolves, or spending her savings on a tutor for neurodivergent kids, or taking him to a new school every year with the hope that he would finally find people that understood him.
Percy got the opportunity to be a kid. He knew who he was. She’s still quite sure that’s the only reason she ever returned from the Underworld: because when the threats of eternal damnation and demands for honor were away, he knew what mattered most to him. Annabeth never got that, and Sally’s heart couldn’t help but shatter for her.
Percy continued to talk about Annabeth that fall. Followed by that winter, followed by that spring. But each time it was with chilling clarity.
Annabeth’s street smarts: a likely result of spending a full year living on the streets as a child.
Her lack of cinematic knowledge: probably because she never had the opportunity to enjoy things as they were.
And her fascination with historical monuments: desire for permanence and a fear of being forgotten.
That last one had to be spelt out for her by Percy. She wasn’t sure he realized it, but it became clear.
“What was Dad like?” he asked. It’s a question she saw coming. “I’m only asking because… well, I thought it was kind of sucky that he just wasn’t around, but then I realized that most of the gods are like that. That’s why… Luke. I told you about Luke, right?”
She nodded, her jaw clenching. Percy told her about the flying shoes.
“That’s why Luke is doing all this stuff. And I get why he’s mad, but bringing back Kronos? That’s just going to make things way worse. But anyway, I figured finding out that most of the gods are… Can I swear?”
“I would prefer if you didn’t,” she answered honestly.
“Okay, I thought finding out that most of the gods are jerks would make me feel better about my dad. At least I know that my father… that Dad cares a little. I mean, he saved me at the Arch when I was plunging to my death. He gave us those pearls to get us back. And with Zeus… Man, I thought I was a goner. He came through though. That means something, right?”
“Of course it does, Percy.”
“I thought realizing that he did kind of care would make me feel better. I mean he’s watching over me, he’s protecting me. He cares. But it still feels weird to call him my dad.”
That was to be expected. “I can understand why.”
“But it makes me feel… No cursing at all?”
“If you can avoid it.”
“It makes me feel kind of crappy when I realize how other demigods have it. I mean… I hate Luke.”
She wanted to tell him that ‘hate’ is a strong word, but when the subject of it tried to hurt her son, she couldn't bring herself to.
“But him turning to the dark side didn’t just come out of nowhere. I think I have it bad, but then he hates his dad so much that he’s willing to destroy Olympus over it.”
It sent chills down her spine. She wasn’t sure why.
“And Annabeth,” he breathed out. Wistful, the way he always is when he says her name. “She talks about her mom all the time. Like she’s the best thing since… Since… I don’t know, since pliosauruses.”
“Since…” She remembered Percy’s recent interest in dinosaurs. She held herself back from saying that Annabeth’s mother was likely much older. “Right.”
“And she even has a gift from her mom. It’s a Yankees cap that turns her invisible. I’m a Mets guy, but I thought, ‘Well, that’s pretty sick, my dad never gave me anything like that. Maybe they talk. Maybe they get lunch on the weekends.’ But when we were at the Arch– Annabeth told me it’s supposed to be safe from monsters because it’s Athena’s favorite tourist trap or something– we got attacked. Annabeth’s mom let the shield down because she was disappointed. She felt like Annabeth had embarrassed her.”
Sally felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She knew the gods were irrational. She was used to hearing about it in stories. It was different coming from her son when he was telling the tale the way he would the story of a cafeteria fight at school. “So she put her daughter in harm’s way.”
“Mind you, Annabeth didn’t even do anything,” Percy grumbled. “I chopped Medusa’s head off. I shipped it to Olympus. I think that’s why when we were fighting the chimera, I couldn’t let Annabeth fight it and keep me safe, even if the poison was getting to me. It wasn’t her fault we were there, it was mine. And clearly, it wasn’t even that embarrassing considering Poseidon still saved me. Annabeth’s mom wouldn’t have even had to do anything to keep her safe. Like, imagine going out of your way to make sure that your daughter maybe gets eaten. While said daughter is in the middle of a quest to stop a war between the two most powerful Olympian gods. It was just… weird. And petty. And rude.
“Shouldn’t that make her happy, anyway?” he asked. “Athena hates Medusa, so I don’t know why she’s losing her…” he searched for a non-curse word, “her marbles over her decapitated head. Not like it’s anything she hasn’t seen before considering there’s literally a statue of it at the Met.”
Sally knows myths are nothing to go by, but they’re the closest thing available to reality. She held her tongue. “Medusa,” she echoed. It wasn’t a question. She said it with no real intention, but an epiphany seemed to light up in Percy anyway.
“Medusa,” he nodded. “We met her.”
“I mean,” her eyes flicked to the statue of her lovely ex-husband in the corner of the living room that they’ve been debating what to do with, “clearly.”
“Medusa said something to Annabeth,” he continued. “Something about being abandoned and betrayed by someone you admire. Someone you’ve dedicated your whole life to. That’s Annabeth. She does everything for Athena. For even just a little attention from her”
Sally heard rustling. She turned her gaze to the window, where she saw a brown barn owl perched outside, staring straight at the pair. “Percy,” she warned.
He glanced at the bird and rolled his eyes. “I don’t care. I’m sorry. I don’t care that she can hear me. In fact, I hope she can. I hope she’s listening. Because seeing what Annabeth gets from her with everything that she’s done makes me feel like Olympus really needs to get its priorities straight.” He snorted at the owl. “She’s kind of proving my point, right? Giving me all this attention when I’m the last person who needs or deserves it.”
She wanted to tell him off for his own safety, but her heart couldn’t help but well with pride. He knows who he is. He’s human first.
“I’m pissed off,” he confessed before pausing: “Does that count as a curse word?”
“I’ll let it slide.”
“Like, okay, I didn’t like Annabeth at first either. I thought she was cold, and selfish, and so scary. But she saved me. So many times. She could have betrayed me, but she didn’t. And it took her a while to show it, but she’s pretty funny sometimes. And smart, obviously. But also…” he touched his neck, tucking at the bead on the leather cord around it. “She’s a good person. She acts all serious because everything matters to her.
“If I were her… If you,” he glanced at Sally, “made me feel like I had to run away, if Dad didn’t care if I lived or died, and all my family either died or betrayed me… I don’t know who I’d be.”
Even with all the incredible things she’d heard about this ‘wise’ girl, Sally got the sense that Annabeth didn’t really know either.
The gears turn in her head. “And you said she’s back home now?”
“For the first time since she got to camp,” he mumbled. “That’s why I’m writing to her so much. I wanna make sure she tries Baja Blast.”
Sally stood up and walked to the kitchen. She could hear Percy shuffling behind her.
“Mom, where are you going?”
She pulled open a drawer and plucked out her notebook. She scanned the drawer for a working pen (clearly none of Percy’s could be trusted) but there were none to be seen. She flipped through the book till the glint of a gold star sticker caught her eye.
★ Blue Chocolate Chip Cookies
2 ¼ c all purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 c (2 sticks) unsalted, softened butter
¾ c sugar
¾ c packed brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 large eggs
blue food coloring
2 c semi-sweet chocolate chips
- Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
- Mix flour, baking soda, and salt in a medium bowl.
- Beat butter and sugar until well combined in the bowl of a mixer. Add vanilla extract. Add eggs + 15–20 drops of blue food coloring.
- Gradually add flour mixture to bowl.
- Stir in chocolate chips.
- Drop dough onto a greased cookie sheet.
- Bake 10 mins
The page was stained with oily fingerprints and blots of blue dye. She tore it out of the notebook. She knew the recipe by heart anyway.
Sally was no stranger to difficult childhoods. Unfortunately, neither was her son. She was still navigating how to help him heal from everything he had been through (and all that was yet to come). She didn’t know how to help this little girl, but she had to do something. She knew the methods she used with her own son couldn’t apply to everyone else, and much like with Percy, she wasn’t sure if they would succeed. In fact, she doubted her message would come across at all. Still, she wanted this girl–Annabeth–to have a piece of what had granted her agency and Percy belonging, even if she didn’t understand what it symbolized.
She shoved the parchment into Percy’s hand. He frowned at the paper.
“Are we baking?”
“Send it to her,” she said. “In your next letter. Send it to Annabeth.”
She deserves to feel a mother’s love, was the part she didn’t say out loud.
Percy’s little outburst against Athena led a few more barn owls to leave their droppings at their window, and all their olives suspiciously grew mold in a few days. Still, Sally’s pride persisted.
“‘Please thank your mom for the recipe,’” Percy read allowed to her as she prepared dinner. “My step-brothers kept eating the cookie dough. I told them not to because they would get sam-’ uh- ‘salmonella, but I gave in and tried it eventually. I see where they were coming from now, because it was delicious. I’m sure it tastes even better when Ms. Jackson makes it.’”
She smiled. “Let her know she’s more than welcome,” she said as she salted the pan. “And please, tell her to call me Sally.”