pocket full of posies
❛ vii. what makes a glowstick ❜

━━━━━ ROSE AND POSIE parted ways at the end of the canoe lake's dock. Posie met Percy at the edge of the twelve cabins. Thalia was over at the basketball court, trying to break up a fight between some of Ares's children and Hunters. ( See in: trying. The fight seemed to be ready to blow up any minute—swords and basketballs were about to be thrown. )

              Percy stuffed his hands into his coat pocket's when he spotted Posie. "Hey." He gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Your hand. It looks better."

              "Chiron's healing," she admitted, shrugging to him passively. "He learned from my dad and all."

              Posie knew she was being short with Percy, mainly because she still hadn't quite forgiven him for the "You suck at archery" bit he spewed at her. He knew how much she hated talking about things like archery; it was the things her father was the god of, and yet, she couldn't even shoot a bow to save her life. It was embarrassing, but he still blurted that like it was nothing.

              "Hey." He nudged her with his elbow. "What did Chiron need to talk to you about?"

              "Oh, uh ..." Posie pursed her lips. "The healing. For the burn mark. And—and to tell me that Rose needed to tell me something. Yeah. That's what he needed to tell me."

              "Rose from ... Cabin Eleven? Hermes's kid?" asked Percy. When Posie nodded, he then asked; "Well, what'd she tell you?"

              "Yeah, what she told me ... Well ..." Posie's eyebrows pinched together. There was no easy way to deliver the truth. "Rose told me that Wyatt ran away, along with Ethan Nakamura."

              Percy frowned. "Ran away, like ...?"

              "Ran away like joined Kronos."

              "Oh." The son of Poseidon straightened. He brushed any snow out of his unruly black hair. "If they did join Kronos, then ... good riddance. Hopefully, some monsters get them."

              There was a beat of silence as Posie processed what he said. Then she hissed; "Percy! You don't mean that. That's a horrible thing to say!"

              "I mean it," he insisted, frowning at her. "If Wyatt—" He stopped to narrow his eyes on her. "He's the one you have a crush on, right?"

              Posie stopped in her tracks, and Percy stopped with her. They were right outside Cabin Twelve. "I don't have a crush on him," she told him with a frown.

              "Not anymore I hope," he replied with a biting tone. "Not if he's a fucking traitor."

              Posie blinked at Percy, shocked at the way he was talking. "We don't actually know if Wyatt joined Kronos, you know."

              "Where else do all those runaway campers go, Posie?" he snapped back. "If it were any other camper, you would just agree with me—but because it's Wyatt, you're arguing with me."

              "Oh. I see." Posie nodded, her lips pulled down into a deep scowl. "You can't handle the fact I think for myself instead of just holding onto every word you say. I mean, that's it, right?"

              "That is not it!" Percy insisted.

              "Then what else is it?" she demanded, stomping her foot. There was some kickback of snow, which blew away in the chilling snow.

              Percy's face was red from the cold. "It's just—it's just—" He huffed angrily and brushed some hair out of his eyes. "Why do you think Wyatt didn't run away to join Kronos?"

              "I—I think it's possible he did," she replied, shrugging quickly. She didn't want to think he did, but if she had to be open to any possibility ... "I think it's also possible he didn't. We don't know why he ran away, Percy. Maybe he just ran away to go back to his dad."

              Percy gave her a disgusted look. "Posie."

              "I'm just saying!" She spread her hands defensively, shuffling in the snow. "It's possible he ran away to go back to his dad," she insisted, mainly to herself.

              "I can't believe you." He shook his head, and the ends of his hair fell back into his eyes. "You're only saying any of this because you like him."

              "I never liked him! And I don't like him, either. Why do you keep saying that?"

              "Then it shouldn't matter if I say 'good riddance' or not if you don't," he replied hotly. "But you care because you like him—Admit it! You're only holding out hope for him when you shouldn't be. He's not worth it if he can join Luke."

              Posie stared at Percy for a long time. Her stomach churned. She and Percy never really had fights, and the very, very few they did have, they got over quickly. But this one—Posie could tell they were both angry. And she wanted to make him hurt the way she hurt.

              "Maybe I'm not good at archery," she snapped at him, jabbing a finger in his chest. "And maybe I don't have a way with pegasus the way you or Silena do. And maybe I'm not a strategist like Annabeth, or in tune with nature the way Grover is. But that doesn't mean you can be such a fucking asshole to me! Whenever you're upset, I let you be upset. I don't make you talk to me. I don't make you try and feel better—because I know you want to be upset. But you don't let me have that! And you have no sympathy for me. If you told me one of your best friends ran away—whether they joined Kronos or not—I wouldn't look at you and fucking say 'Good riddance', Percy." She took both hands to push him away, and the boy stumbled back with a shocked look. "Can I not be upset? Or do I just have to lay down and let you say whatever you want because you're the son of Poseidon?"

              Percy gaped at her. "Posie—"

              "Do you feel like you can say whatever you want because you might be the child of the Great Prophecy?" she asked, her eyes flashing with anger. "Do you feel entitled to say whatever you want because you might be the hero of the Great Prophecy? In case you haven't noticed, Percy Jackson, you might not be the hero at all, not with Thalia around—"

              That truth struck a nerve in Percy. "Do you think I haven't noticed that?!" he demanded, gritting his teeth at her. "Trust me, I know Thalia's back. That's all Annabeth could talk about every time I Iris Messaged her—Thalia this, Thalia that. Trust me, I've heard her name enough for a lifetime, okay?"

              Posie glared at him. "Then why do you say the things you say? I wouldn't ever look at you and just ... point out that you're not good at—whatever." She shrugged at him, her face still etched into a glare. "But you don't care. Or at the very least, you don't listen."

              Percy's mouth closed. "You mean ..." He blinked at her a couple of times, and she could see the gears whirring in his head. "You're mad at what I said in Artemis's tent? Posie, that was an accident—"

              "Don't." She pointed at him, her hand shaking slightly. She hated crying in front of people.  "I don't want to talk to you right now. Or ever."

✿

Things didn't get better at dinner. In fact, they only became worse. Having to eat dinner all alone that night only made the stinging feeling more apparent. This night, there was no entertainment for dinner—without Lee, Michael, Austin, or Kayla, Posie didn't say a word. Not even when she was offering a portion of her meal to the brazier. And she avoided looking at Percy or at Grover; she didn't want them to feel like they could come over and talk. She didn't want to talk, especially not with Percy.

              Posie couldn't stand sitting inside Cabin Seven all alone, so she sat on the front steps of her father's cabin. She took some of the chalk Layla had stored under her bunk and was drawing anything she could think of—suns, moons, stars, lyres, her name even—on the steps.

              "So, this is your cabin?" a voice asked.

              She looked up and spotted a hesitant Nico shuffling forward. She smiled at him. "Yeah. This is my cabin."

              He stopped long enough to look up at it. The sun had started to set since it was the cold winter by now, and Cabin Seven's usual glow was gone. Now, it was Cabin Eight that was glowing—silvery and all moon-like. Posie wondered how Artemis was doing, hunting that monster and all. "It's ... very yellow. Is it made out of gold?"

              She laughed lightly. "No, I don't think so. You should see it in the day—it glows."

              "Like the sun?"

              She nodded. "Like the sun."

              He grinned. "That's so cool! Are you the only one who sleeps here? There's a lot of bunks inside."

              She glanced back. Of course, it looked that way to Nico. Only her bottom bunk had any ruffled sheets, and all the stuff that usually littered Cabin Seven in the summer—music sheets, empty instrument cases, half-used rolls of gauze—was gone as the rest of the residents were gone. "For now," she replied simply. "My older brother, Lee, comes back tomorrow morning."

              Nico looked back down at her. "How many siblings do you have?"

              Posie grinned. "I can only tell you of the ones Apollo's claimed, but even then ... I mean, the gods have been alive for thousands of years, Nico. Apollo's had a lot of kids, 'kay? But in the cabin, there's about six of us. But that's during the summer mainly."

              "Why the summer?"

              "For the summer session," she answered easily. "During the rest of the year, my siblings go back to their mortal parents. To their mortal lives."

              "You don't?"

              Posie didn't respond for a moment. It wasn't easy explaining things to new campers—it was never easy. "That's ... Well, let's just say my dad can't take care of me."

              Nico frowned. "You mean, Apollo?"

              She blinked at him. It was even harder to explain when she technically had two dads—Apollo and her mortal dad, Beau Easton. "Uh ... no. My mortal dad, who isn't Apollo. You know, the one I got my last name from?"

              He stared at her. "I don't get it."

              "Maybe it's better you don't, then." She nodded, patting the steps to Cabin Seven. "Here. Sit down."

              Nico happily did, grabbing a piece of green chalk from the cardboard box. Posie watched as he started to draw Dr. Thorn; messily, albeit, but she could see the monster—the sneer, the tail, even the paws Thorn used to swat at them. Before she could ask how Nico was adjusting, he glanced up and declared, "I think I'd like to have an older brother like you."

              Posie was shocked for a moment. "A—a brother?"

              He nodded. "That's what I said."

              "But ... why?"

              Nico shrugged. "Why not? At least then he could leave to join the Hunter ..." He glared resentfully at the glowing Cabin Eight, Artemis's cabin. Where Bianca must be staying inside.

              The realization suddenly dawned on Posie. Nico didn't come to talk to her, he came over to try and talk to Bianca, only that Bianca ( and the other Hunters ) didn't want to talk to him. And the only reason he stopped by was because he saw her outside Cabin Seven. She hesitantly glanced back at Nico. "I dunno, Nico ..." she started. "Brothers are a pain—"

              "Not a bigger pain than those Hunters," he sneered.

              She licked her lips. The reaction was understandable, but that doesn't mean she knew how to help. She didn't know how to help. Having your sister abandon you to join a group of immortal girls who hate boys wasn't anything Posie had ever gone through. Besides, the only sister Posie had ever met was Layla, and Layla didn't really want much to do with the Hunters ( and she was also younger than Posie ). It had something to do with the Hunters being all too serious for Layla ( but knowing her sister, that explanation made sense to Posie ).

              "Look, Nico—"

              "Why do they call you Posie?" he asked suddenly, using the sole of his sneakers to scuff out his amateur drawing of Dr. Thorn. "That's, like, not a normal name."

              She pursed her lips. "It's a nickname," she told him. "So it's isn't a normal name."

              He looked up, a lot more interested than before. "You go by a nickname? Me too!"

              "I know a lot of people who do," she told him. "Percy—" She grimaced. "I mean, Will. My younger brother. I mentioned him before, back at the, uh ..." She took a hesitant glance toward him, wondering if it was worth mentioning Hunters are his reaction. "You know what I mean. But Will is short for William."

              "Have you met Beckendorf?" She peered at him, and when Nico shook his head, she added, "Beckendorf is the son of Hephaestus, and he stays over in Cabin Nine" —she pointed to the cabin next to them— "but Beckendorf is his last name. Well, I guess technically, it isn't a nickname, but no one ever calls him Charles, which is his first name."

              Nico blinked. "He goes by his last name?"

              She nodded. "Not sure why, but he does."

              "So why do you go by Posie?"

              "It's ..." she debated for a moment, whether or not to tell him the truth, "a long story. But I'm named after my grandmother, and I never really liked my name, and this lady, um ..." She licked her lips, hesitant to speak of Mrs. Hall in front of Nico. "Well, there was this lady who babysat me a lot as a kid, and she knew I didn't like my real name, so she found a nickname for me she thought fit—Posie."

              "But where did she come up with Posie?" Nico pried.

              Posie rested her hands on her knees, her half-used yellow chalk dangling from her fingers. "I brought her a handful of wild posies that I picked one day. For her birthday. So she started calling me Posie."

              It was a long time ago, and trying to remember Mrs. Hall hurt Posie's chest—not because she didn't remember, it was just because the memories of the woman were so painful to think about. The pain was so visceral, not only did her soul hurt, but her chest hurt. Posie had long come to understand that Mrs. Hall was most likely dead after all these years, after getting her skin cancer diagnosis. She tried not to think of it at all because that was the thing that drove her to run away from Washington D.C. It wasn't the only thing that caused Posie to run—most of that had to do with her dad being possessed at night, talking sickness and madness and whatnot—but Mrs. Hall's diagnosis was the straw that broke the camel's back.

              Posie loved Mrs. Hall more than she loved her dad, Beau. Mrs. Hall was her mother, and Posie couldn't stand to see her mother wither away. She knew that was what it would lead to after having eavesdropped on Mrs. Hall's phone call with her doctor—Mrs. Hall and her doctors found the cancer too late, and there was no chance of her surviving with such a late diagnosis. Posie was only nine then, her tenth birthday right around the corner; she felt guilty back then for eavesdropping, but now, the guilt had turned into sadness. She felt sadness for not having a chance to give Mrs. Hall a better goodbye, and sadness of knowing that she had no chance to ever try.

              Nico nodded slowly as he mulled over Posie's nickname. "So what's your, like ... real name?"

              "Josephine."

              "You're real name is Josephine?" Nico suddenly frowned heavily. "But ... I—Ow!"

              Posie's head popped up quickly. "Nico, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

              "I ... dunno," he admitted, rubbing the temple of his forehead. "I thought I knew a girl named Josephine. She looked—" He looked at her, his expression muddied with confusion. "Well, she kinda looked like you. But remembering things—" He winced, rubbing at his eyes. "It's hard. It hurts my head."

              The daughter of Apollo froze. Her brain started working overtime, and she started to have flashbacks to fragmented memories. Fragmented memories for simply a lack of recalling; she had met a boy named Nico before, and although he dressed much differently than how the boy before her dressed, they had the same droopy black eyes and ear-to-ear smile.

              "You—? No ..." She leaned forward to get a better look at his face. "Nico, did you stay in a hotel a few years ago?"

              He was still rubbing at his right temple, squinting at her. "Years ago? No ... Well, maybe. Posie, I don't know!" His voice became whiney, and he dropped his head back. "I told you—remembering things hurts. And—and I can't."

              She watched him with new-found astonishment. "Nico, wait—"

              But a boy's voice cut her off; "Nico!" It was the Stoll brothers, Travis and Connor. They weren't twins, but they were practically identical and only a year or so apart, so they practically were twins.

              Connor grinned at her. "Trying to steal the new camper, Posie?"

              She shook her head. "Look, I need to, um, tell Nico something. Could you guys, like, wait?"

              Nico frowned at her. "What?"

              "Yeah, what?" Travis cocked his head to the side, his curly brown hair falling into his eyes. "Are you gonna, like, spill your family's deepest secrets to him?"

              "No!" Posie stood up quickly, stomping her foot. "Look, Travis, Connor—it has to do with something back at Westover, that's all."

              The brothers exchanged looks. "Westover?" Connor asked, his brows furrowing.

              Posie sighed. "Why are you guys here?"

              "Lights out," Travis answered breezily. "In, like, ten minutes, Posie. We don't want Nico dealing with harpies his first night here."

              Nico's face paled. "Harpies? Like, the ladies with bat wings?"

              Connor stepped up the few steps to Cabin Seven, his foot landing right on top of Nico's drawing of Dr. Thorn. He slung an arm over Nico's shoulder. "No, no, Nico. Those are something entirely else, we try not to name them here."

              "Or at all," added Travis helpfully.

              "Why?" Nico asked quickly, but Connor didn't answer, leading the boy back to Cabin Eleven a couple of cabins down.

              Travis grinned at Posie. "He's out of your hair now."

              "He wasn't in my hair," she insisted. "Look, tomorrow morning, I need to talk to him, okay? Before or right after breakfast!"

              The son of Hermes gave her a mock salute. "Aye aye, Posie!"

✿

She didn't think it was possible, but things only became worse when she fell asleep. It was a brief dream, but still troubling nonetheless. And it was only one message; "The quest. You must go on it."

              She could tell it was Hades's voice. She sat up at the picnic table in the decrepit park Hades used to visit her the night Thalia was brought back to life. All things considered, she shouldn't have been able to change the surroundings as it was a dream, but she had managed to carve her name into the wooden picnic table with her knife.

              "Hades," she greeted simply, cleaning up the edges to the P in her name. "What do you mean quest?"

              "There will be a quest, will there not?" he countered. "To search for Athena's daughter."

              "Annabeth," she corrected. "Her name is Annabeth."

              "Her name is not of importance to me," Hades brushed Posie off. "But no matter what, you go on that quest."

              Posie looked up from the table, looking around the abandoned park for the god. If he was around, he was shrouded in darkness. "It won't be a quest, Lord Hades, it'll be a search party," she corrected again. "Besides, I don't think Mr. D will even allow us to send out a search party."

              "There will be a quest," the god insisted. "I may not have your father's foresight, Josephine, but even I can see well enough to know that a quest will be needed. Soon."

              She looked up again, Arsis clutched tightly in her hand. "What do you mean? What's happened?"

              If the god was ever going to answer, he didn't. And before she could ask again, the rapid and aggressive knocking on Cabin Seven's door woke her up. She sat up in her bunk, blinking away the sleep to spot the morning rays of the winter sun peaking out.

              The rapid knocking started again, and Beckendorf's voice reverberated through the door. "Posie, open this door!"

              She nearly fell trying to get out of her bunk, and she cursed at the fuzzy socks she wore to bed. She slipped one of Lee's old sweatshirts he left behind over her head and barely got her arms through the sleeves before swinging the oak door to her cabin open. Just as expected, Beckendorf stood there in all his muscular glory. He was only sixteen, but by his height, he easily looked like he was mid-twenties at first glance. But he had a young and kind face to counteract his stature, and that helped to make him look sweet and welcoming. No wonder Silena liked him.

              "Beckendorf?" she asked, her voice croaky from sleep.

              "I've had an idea," he told her, stepping his way inside.

              The daughter of Apollo blinked at him, still holding onto the front door. She looked back to Beckendorf as he made himself comfortable on the bottom bunk closest to her. He grabbed a discarded music stand from the corner with his foot and dragged it over. He looked up at her as he flipped to stand around to make it work as a makeshift table. "You heard me, right? You look half-dead."

              She closed her eyes and laid her head against the door. "Yeah, I heard you." She stood up straight and shut the door. She shuffled over, her arms crossed over her chest.

              Beckendorf pulled out a blue notebook from his hoodie's pouch and placed it on the music stand. "So, my idea—"

              "This couldn't have waited until, like, any time later?" she asked, rubbing at her eyes.

              The son of Hephaestus rolled his eyes. "You can't help when inspiration hits, Posie. Now, my idea—"

              "Did you even sleep?"

              He cringed. "... No. But don't tell Silena that. She's already on my case enough for not wearing the 'proper forging equipment'." He rolled his eyes. "I can't help it the apron gets in my way."

              "You also feel girly with it on, don't you?" Posie grinned at him sluggishly, still half-asleep.

              "Maybe." Becknedorf grabbed a pen from the pouch and clicked it. He pointed it at her. "My idea," he started again, "what if those knives got ruined over the summer because of your dad."

              Any sleep that bogged Posie down was quickly swept away by the anxiety brought upon by Beckendorf's idea. She sat up, no longer leaning against the pillars of the bunk bed. "My—my dad? Knives?"

              "Daggers, sorry." Beckendorf waved his hand dismissvely. "By the way, you never told me where you got those new ones." He pointed to Anthos and Arsis, who were lying on the nightstand next to Posie's bottom bunk.

              She blinked back at the daggers. "Um ... you know ..."

              "I—I don't know actually," Beckendorf helpfully pointed out.

              She scratched the back of her neck, wincing when her fingers got caught in tangled hair. "You know, my dad."

              "Oh." Beckendorf looked back to the daggers. "You know, that only furthers my idea—What if your old daggers were, like, rusted because of Apollo."

              "Something like that," she agreed, ducking her head and rubbing at her eyes worriedly. "Look, Beckendorf, can't this wait until later—"

              "Inspiration hit and I'm not letting it get away!" Beckendorf snapped, narrowing his eyes on her. "And what do you mean, 'Something like that'?"

              She sighed, and leaned her whole body against the bunk bed the boy sat on. "You're right ... in a way—about Apollo being the reason those old daggers were ... rusted, that's what you said?"

              He nodded. "Did you, like, inherit his powers?"

The air was sharp as she sucked in between her teeth. "Uh, no."

              But he only narrowed his eyes. "You can control sunlight," he said slowly and methodically, like he was sounding out the syllables to himself. Posie worried if he said it any faster, Beckendorf would've passed out. His eyes widened and he started to stand up. "You can control sunlight, that's why—Oh my gods! Do you know how rare that is?"

              Posie blinked at him, taking a couple of steps back. "What? No. No! I don't control—"

              "That's why the daggers rusted," he said, suddenly so sure of himself. "You accidentally summoned sunlight and the Celestial bronze couldn't withstand the heat—But why rust, then? Why not melt?" He bent over the music stand and opened the notebook. He quickly flipped through pages, and Posie only caught sight of half-finished sketches of weapons and pages of scribbled notes.

              He suddenly grabbed the notebook, turning around to look at Posie. She blinked up at him. "How long have you known?" he asked her quickly. "Have you ever seen any other Celestial bronze rust because of your, you know ..." he bent down and whispered, "gift?"

              She stared at him, her mind still trying to catch up with Beckendorf and his sudden certainty of her "powers". "I ... I don't—Beckendorf, why are you here?"

              "I was thinking about your daggers now that you're back from that expedition with Grover," he started, folding the notebook so the left side was folded under. "And I thought back to the last fight you used with those old daggers—the Colchis Bulls, if you remember—"

              "—Oh, I remember them all right," she promised bitterly.

              "Well, I started thinking about how the daggers could—or ever would be—be rusted," he continued, waving the pen around. He pointed it at her suddenly, tapping it with every word he said to emphasize the importance; "And I thought ... What if they were rusted not because of the bulls—I don't think Colchis Bulls would be able to do that and all—but because of you?"

              She frowned at him. "You're making me sound like a bad person, Beckendorf."

              "That's not it at all!" He shook his head insistently. "No, I think it's ... amazing. You know, learning that Celestial bronze can rust and all. And you're the reason for that." He leaned closer to her, and Posie leaned back, trying not to smell what toothpaste he used. "You have to tell me—can you control sunlight?"

              She stared at him. Was it any better that he thought she controlled sunlight over plagues? Every part of her screamed Yes but her brain. Her brain was yelling at her to tell him No, but if she told him No, then he might start looking at what other things Apollo was the god of.

              "Um, I—I don't know." She shrugged. "I don't remember the battle with those bulls," she lied. "It's a blur now, you know, being, like, half a year later."

              His shoulders deflated, and he stood up straight. "You have no idea?"

              She nodded.

              "You've never ... accidentally summoned sunlight?"

              She shook her head.

              "Have you ever broken a bone and started ... glowing?"

              Her crossed arms dropped and she stared at him with a look of disbelief. "... Beckendorf, I'm not a glowstick. Just—get out of my cabin! I'm trying to sleep."

              "I'm asking the important questions here, Posie! In the name of research!"

              "I'm not a glowstick!"

✿ MAR. 22ND, 2024 / "i will get the chapter out soon," gracie says back on february 17th. "i have about a quarter of the next chapter written."

gracie also LIES. she is a liar. a no-good LIAR. it's been OVER a month and i'm just getting this chapter out. i don't have a defense either, i just ... didn't write the rest of this chapter <3 well, i kind of do; this chapter (mainly the convo with nico and onwards) FOUGHT against me *sobs* it was ridiculous how much i struggled for scenes that should NOT have been that hard to write - and i lowkey think this chapter is shit because of that :/ but i want to get this chapter out to wipe my hands of it

that aside, perposie angst <<<< angst is so fun UNTIL i'm writing it :( why do i do this to myself?

i briefly touched on topics i haven't really explained beyond basic info (like mrs. hall and what happened to her, or beau and what was going on with him, mainly just posie's life BEFORE camp) - i will over time, like, over the course of different conversations with different people so don't worry if you feel some of it flew over your head because i haven't touched on it much before

with the way these chapters are going, i'm scared this act is gonna end up at like 25 chapters and i DON'T want that so the next few chapters may be stupidly long and i DON'T apologize for that!

anyways,, thoughts? opinions??

(i was going to edit/proof read; but i did not!)