The List | Percabeth AU [ORIGINAL]

Chapter 22

We hit 5k! That's honestly so cool to me! I'm proud of how this book is turning out and can't wait for you all to find out how it ends! I have about 15-20 chapters left to unveil, and I'm already thinking about more book ideas. Any recommendations or topics? Another AU? Crossover? A totally different universe? I'm open to anything. Let me know....

OKAY. WAIT. WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS. So I was just doing twitter scrolling and saw this:

Thoughts? I'm thinking there's no way it's ever going to happen, but I'd really love for it to actually come true! I've been dreaming of it ever since I watched the movies for the first time and realized they were an epic fail...

(Also, if you want to read the article just search up Percy Jackson TV show on your internet browser and click on the news tab) It's been up for a week now.

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Percy

    I fucked up.

Annabeth probably never wanted to see me again. I knew how much she took track seriously. It was like that girl slept, ate, studied, and ran on a constant cycle, with no break.

    As I got ready for school that day, I dreaded the time dwindling left between me and first period. I could just imagine a giant alarm clock, with the seconds dropping and screaming "tick tock, asshole" in my face.

    I checked my phone. 7:30. I had thirty minutes to get my shit together before I would have to see her again. Entering the bathroom, I almost gasped at my appearance. After last night's restlessness, I had dark circles the size of Kronos under my eyes. My hair looked unkept and messy, but that was nothing new. Subsequentially, I frantically brushed my teeth and rinsed my face with cold water. I decided I looked at least sort of presentable.

    "Percy!" My mom called from the kitchen, "Pancakes are done!" Just as she said that, the sweet aroma of breakfast wafted into my room. Instantly, I hastily gathered my things and headed to the source of the smell.

    My mom was in her typical blue apron with a plastic spatula still in her hand. She smiled sweetly when I ran into the kitchen. Everything seemed normal today. She had a whole bottle of syrup out just for me, hey I go through those things quick (don't judge), and was about to pour more pancake mix onto the pan.

    Then, I noticed the red pancakes.

    "What are those for?" I asked, pointing at the sight of the red pancakes. Blue pancakes were all that I accepted. It sounded picky, but it was the only request that I ever had. I didn't care if they were completely burnt or not all the way cooked. Hell, I didn't even care what kind of syrup was out. But I did care about the color.