Wait For Me

one

Annabeth pulled her hair up into a loose bun, splashing water on her face.

She was exhausted, having spent the past night writing until the early hours of the morning.

Her head pounded, and she stumbled out of her bathroom and down the hall towards her room.

She flopped onto her bed, grumbling to herself.

Annabeth had been drunk before, and the hangover that followed was a similar sensation to what she was feeling now.

She shouldn't have stayed up, but she had gotten in a good couple chapters for her newest novel, so she deemed the choice acceptable.

"Annabeth!" her Dad, Frederick Chase, called from the kitchen. "If you don't hurry up we'll both be late!"

"Coming!" Annabeth yelled back.

She rolled out of bed for the second time that morning.

She slouched over to her overflowing closet, yawning aggressively. Annabeth rifled through it until she pulled out a pair of wrinkled jean shorts and a cropped tank top.

She changed into the clothes and searched through her backpack until she came across a pair of Ray-Ban Sunglasses.

Annabeth tucked them into her pocket and threw a Columbia University hoodie over her head, sinking into the soft fabric.

"Beth, seriously!" Fredrick yelled again, "Do you want to miss your last day?"

Annabeth straightened up, her thoughts instantly cleared, the groggy sleepiness that had been dragging her down the whole morning immediately dispersed. "Holy shit."

She glanced at her reflection in the cracked mirror that lay against her wall.

"Holy shit," She murmured again. "It's the last day of high school."

A smile crept onto her face. 8 more hours of hell and then she would finally be free.

"Annabeth?" She could tell her dad was getting impatient.

"I'm coming, Dad," she yelped.

Annabeth rummaged through piles of dirty clothes until she found a beat up pair of high top converse.

She pulled her hair down and raked her fingers through her golden curls.

Despite living in Virginia, Annabeth had always looked like a California Baby.

Tan skin. Thick, curly, blonde hair. On the taller side, with an athletic form.

A typical "California Girl."

Annabeth slung her nearly empty bag over her shoulder and sprinted down the stairs.

She grabbed an apple from the kitchen and jogged to the front door, where her Dad was waiting, frowning slightly.

He smirked a bit when he saw her sweatshirt, though his eyebrows stayed creased. "You aren't even in New York yet."

Annabeth glanced down at the Columbia crest splayed on the white fabric. "It was the first thing I grabbed."

Her Dad rolled his eyes as he stepped outside, swinging his car keys in his hand. "You want to get away from us that badly?"

Well, yes, Annabeth thought grouchily, but chose not to say that aloud.

"Of course not," she muttered instead.

Annabeth swung open the door of her father's car, slipping inside and tossing her bag in the backseat.