Prophesied Powder, PJO

1.2

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Chapter 2
The Summer Session Begins

Volume 1: The Lightning Thief

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Pat's fingers skimmed the Braille paper he'd been given earlier in the morning. He'd already read it once, but it made him smile. His father always wrote letters over the summer, but he was still overjoyed to get his first one of the year.

"Toc, toc," There were two knocks on the door and a French voice outside of it. Pat grabbed his glasses from the corner of his desk and settled them onto his face before answering.

"Come in." He said, and the door swung open impatiently.

"I have archery class. You are coming with me." The Frenchman declared. Pat laughed briefly as he grabbed his water bottle and opened the cap.

He'd met Pallas Gerard the day that he arrived at Camp Half-Blood. He was his age, had a thick French accent, and was consistently impatient and impulsive, but Pat loved his company. In their two years of friendship, they'd only realized that they were a perfect unlikely duo.

"Should I not go with my cabin to their activities?" Pat asked sarcastically, though he knew Pallas' answer. On cue, Pallas huffed, and Pat knew he wasn't really angry.

"You don't even sleep in your cabin." He pointed out, and Pat heard him move to sit on the desk Pat was at. Pallas still told him of his movement before he sat.

"I still like my half-siblings," Pat retorted, "You know I sleep in here for a more complicated reason." Here meant the Big House, a giant farmhouse at Camp Half-Blood that Pat definitely shouldn't have a room inside of. He was lucky Chiron was empathic to his comfort levels.

Pallas hummed but didn't respond, and Pat knew it was because of how much effort it took for Pallas to refrain from asking. Both of the twelve-year-old boys were relentlessly curious and drove their friends mad with their questions. Still, Pallas never wanted to press Pat, and Pat could always tell when he wanted to say something about his sight.

"Come on, then," Pat broke the silence by standing up. When he reached for his walking stick, he almost fell over Pallas' legs, but Pallas gave him his stick and walked out without another word.

Camp Half-Blood was the only safe place in the world for a demigod like Pat. He had two summers and two winters spent here, and he still would lose any life-or-death sword fight he was put into. Even if he'd still had his sight, he believed it would be the same song — there were people like Pallas who could fight until they dropped, and there were people like Pat.

Listening to the metal sounds and out-of-breath panting of fights was never something he found particularly enjoyable, but he wasn't put off enough to complain. It was later in the day, and Pallas and Annabeth were going at it again in the stadiums and Pat was listening, politely silent while waiting for them.

Annabeth Chase had been at camp longer than either of the boys. She'd come at age seven with two other demigods, three runaways who'd found each other. While Pat appreciated companionship and liked Annabeth, Pallas had always been her best friend. Well, apart from Luke that is. A lot of the things Pat learned about Annabeth came from Pallas, but nothing that betrayed her trust.