Beyond All Expectation (Percabeth)

Chapter 8: First Period

Annabeth POV:

Even as my alarm woke me up on Wednesday morning, I was still furious from the events of the last three days. And the fact that I was angry made me even angrier, because I was staying at my mum's and that should have made me happy.

But what was there to be happy about? Me and my mum had barely spoken since our argument on Sunday evening, mainly because I didn't want to hear another lecture from her about Stanford, but also a little bit because I didn't want to admit to myself that she might be ill. And then I had gone I to school on the Monday morning and almost as soon as I walked through the front doors I was called into the Principal's office:

"Annabeth, it has come to my attention that you're excelling in all of your classes," he began.

"Yes, sir," I frowned slightly.

"Which is what makes you a perfect candidate for this job I need you to help out with," he continued. 

"Sir?" I pushed.

"A parent of one of my students has asked that we find a tutor for her son, in every subject," he finally said. "I tried to find professional help, but the mother isn't willing to pay so much. Would you mind helping her son out? It'll be roughly $10 an hour, once a week every Tuesday evening from 4 to 6 unless specified otherwise... you'll have to bring your own teaching material, but if you need any aid I'm sure one of your teachers wouldn't mind providing some resources."

I guess this wasn't so much a request as much as a "you're doing this and that's final." Not that I cared much – tutoring would look great on my college application, and it was a genuine excuse to get out of Penelope's house for another two hours every week.

"Fine, I'm in," I nodded, smiling slightly.

"Excellent!" He beamed. "Okay, perfect, you'll be needing to start tomorrow. Here, take this, it's got their home address and phone number. Thank you so much, Annabeth... I'm hoping you'll get some good results."

No pressure to me, I sighed. It was only after I was hurried out of his office did I think of asking for the student's name, but by then it was too late to ask. Never mind, I thought. It didn't matter who I tutored.

Turns out; it mattered a great deal who I was tutoring. When I knocked on the light blue door and he opened it – Mr Popular, Mr Douchebag, Mr Perfect with his messy black hair and slightly red cheeks, Mr Percy Jackson – I don't think I had ever felt so angry in my life. This would be insufferable! Clearly his mum had forced him into having a tutor... he probably hated the idea of it, the idea of me teaching him. And he would probably mess around the entire time, barely listen to a word I would say... I bet he would be mean to me, bully me like all the other boys did in the past.

I was about to turn around and storm off, not wanting for his first words to be something mean or idiotic, when he smiled and said:

"Come on in. Want anything to drink or eat?"

I have to admit that I was enjoying my evening. Learning that Percy was dyslexic was exciting... if not somewhat endearing. It made him human, less perfect – seeing him so embarrassed and flustered. He opened up to me, we had a genuine conversation... he even made me laugh. An actual laugh. Something I hadn't been able to do in quite some time. And, despite my early judgement, which I immediately felt bad for having, he actually wanted to learn and listen, and that he did. But as the session continued my mind could not forget his early words:

"Well at least it paid off. You're getting the grades you need and you're not a major disappointment to anyone... so that's got to count for something?"