Runaway

The floorboards in the Chase household didn't just creak; they screamed. To Annabeth, every groan of the ancient wood sounded like a gunshot in the oppressive silence of the 2:00 AM darkness. She held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, as she adjusted the weight of her overstuffed North Face backpack.

She caught her reflection in the hallway mirror—a ghost of the girl she used to be. Her boho knotless braids, a warm shade of light brown that complemented her rich skin, were pulled back into a tight, practical ponytail. Her brown eyes, usually bright and calculating, were rimmed with red from a lack of sleep and the quiet, hot tears she’d shed while packing her mother’s old camera.

Down the hall, the rhythmic, heavy snoring of her father continued. It was a wet, rattling sound, punctuated by the clink of an empty bourbon bottle hitting the floor as he rolled over in his drunken stupor.

"Burn in hell, Frederick," she whispered, the words a sharp, jagged oath.

She didn't look back. She slipped out the kitchen door, the humidity of the New York night hitting her like a physical wall. She moved with the silent grace of someone who had spent years learning how to be invisible.

Three blocks away, under the flickering yellow glow of a dying streetlight, a beat-up 2005 Toyota Corolla sat idling. The muffler was loud enough to be a problem, but to Annabeth, it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

She reached the passenger side and yanked the door open. Percy was already looking at her, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. His curly blonde hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his blue eyes were wide with a mixture of terror and adrenaline.

"You got the bag?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"I got the bag, Percy. Drive. Just fucking drive."

Percy didn't need to be told twice. He shifted the car into gear, the transmission grinding with a protest that made them both wince, and peeled away from the curb. They didn't speak until they were three miles away, crossing the bridge that would take them out of the neighborhood they had both called a prison for the last six years.

"He hit you again," Percy said, his voice dropping an octave. He wasn't looking at her; he was staring at the road, but his jaw was set so tight it looked like it might snap.

Annabeth touched the faint yellowing bruise on her jaw, a parting gift from two nights ago when she’d been too slow to get her father his dinner. "It doesn't matter. We’re out. We’re actually out."

Percy reached over, his large hand covering her smaller one on the center console. At six feet tall, he practically overflowed the driver’s seat of the small car, his knees bumping the steering column. He looked so different from the boy she’d met in third grade—the one who had shared his lunch with her after her stepmother had 'forgotten' to pack hers.

"We have the money?" she asked, needing the grounding reality of logistics.

Percy nodded, tapping the glove box. "Four thousand, three hundred and twenty-two dollars. Every cent from the garage, every tip you made at the library, and that stash I found in my old man’s 'emergency' drawer. If Gabe wants his beer money back, he’s gonna have to find us first. And he’s too fucking lazy to look past the end of his own nose."

Annabeth let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding since she was ten years old. "Four thousand. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to get to the coast."

"It’s more than enough," Percy insisted, trying to sound braver than he felt. "We’ll find work. I can fix cars anywhere. You’re a goddamn genius, Annabeth. You’ll be running some architectural firm by the time you’re eighteen."

Annabeth leaned her head back against the frayed headrest. "I just want to see the ocean, Percy. My mom used to talk about the Pacific. She said the blue there is different. Not like the grey, oily shit in the harbor."

"We’re going," Percy promised. "California. No dads, no drinking, no ‘where the hell have you been’ bullshit. Just us."

They drove through the night, the city lights fading into the long, dark stretches of the interstate. For the first few hours, every pair of headlights behind them was a police cruiser or Frederick Chase’s SUV in Annabeth’s mind. Every time a car sped up to pass them, Percy would hunch his shoulders, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror.

But as the sun began to bleed a pale, bruised purple over the horizon, the tension started to fray into exhaustion.

"We need gas," Percy muttered, pulling into a dilapidated Shell station somewhere in Pennsylvania.

The air outside the car was cooler here, smelling of damp earth and diesel. Annabeth hopped out to stretch her legs, her 5'0 frame looking tiny against the backdrop of the sprawling highway. She watched Percy as he pumped the gas. He looked older than sixteen. The stress of living with Gabe Ugliano—a man who used his fists as often as his insults—had carved hard lines around Percy’s mouth.

"Hey," she said, walking over to him.

He looked up, a tired smile ghosting his lips. "Hey yourself, Shorty."

"Don't call me that. I’m wearing platforms."

"You’re wearing Converse, Annabeth. You’re literally five feet of pure spite."

She laughed, a genuine, bubbling sound that felt foreign in her chest. She stepped into his space, wrapping her arms around his waist. Percy leaned down, resting his chin on the top of her head, his blonde curls tickling her forehead.

"We really did it," he whispered into her hair.

"We’re not safe yet," she reminded him, though she squeezed him tighter. "But we’re closer."

"I’m starving," Percy said, breaking the moment with a stomach growl that sounded like a tectonic plate shifting. "Let’s see what kind of gourmet shit this gas station has to offer."

Inside, the fluorescent lights hummed with an annoying buzz. They walked through the aisles like they were on a shopping spree, grabbing beef jerky, a family-sized bag of Cheetos, two Gatorades, and a questionable-looking ham sandwich.

As Annabeth went to the counter to pay, her eyes caught a display of cheap sunglasses. She grabbed two pairs—big, obnoxious plastic ones.

"Disguises," she told Percy, handing him a pair of neon blue aviators.

"Very subtle," he joked, sliding them on. "I look like a prick."

"You look like a tourist. That’s the point."

Back in the car, they ate like they hadn't seen food in a week. Annabeth tore into the jerky, her mind already spinning with the next steps of their plan. They couldn't stay on the main highways forever. They needed to ditch the plates on the car eventually. Maybe even ditch the car.

"What are you thinking?" Percy asked, watching her. "I can see the gears turning. You get that little crease between your eyebrows."

Annabeth sighed, tossing a Cheeto at him. "I’m thinking we need to be smart. Gabe is a loser, but my dad... my dad has connections. He’s an academic, Percy. He knows people in high places. If he decides he wants his 'property' back, he won't come looking himself. He’ll call someone."

Percy’s expression darkened. "You’re not property. Neither am I. If anyone comes near you, I’ll break their fucking hands."

"I know you would, Seaweed Brain. But I’d rather they just didn't find us."

"Seaweed Brain?" Percy grinned. "Where’d that come from?"

"Your head is full of nothing but ocean dreams and salt air. It fits."

"Fine, Wise Girl. But if I’m Seaweed Brain, you’re definitely the boss. Lead the way."

They kept driving west. The landscape began to change, the cramped forests of the East Coast giving way to the rolling hills of the Midwest. They took turns sleeping, though 'sleeping' mostly consisted of leaning against the window and drifting into a fitful doze for twenty minutes at a time.

Around noon, they pulled into a rest stop in Ohio. Percy was slumped over the wheel, his eyes bloodshot.

"Switch," Annabeth commanded.

"You don't have your license, Annabeth."

"And you’re about to drive us into a ditch. Get in the back and sleep. I’ve watched you drive for three years, I know how the clutch works."

Percy groaned but didn't argue. He climbed into the back seat, stretching his long legs across the bench as best he could. Within seconds, he was out cold.

Annabeth climbed into the driver’s seat. She adjusted the mirrors, feeling the power of the engine under her feet. It was terrifying and exhilarating. She was sixteen, she was a runaway, and she was driving a stolen car—well, Percy’s car, but bought with Gabe’s 'dirty' money—across the country.

As she pulled back onto the highway, she looked at Percy in the rearview mirror. He looked so peaceful when he wasn't flinching at loud noises. She thought about the night she’d climbed through his window, sobbing because her father had thrown her mother’s books into the fireplace. Percy hadn't said a word; he’d just held her and told her they were leaving.

He’d spent months taking extra shifts at the mechanic shop, coming home with grease under his fingernails and bruises on his ribs from Gabe’s "reminders" to pay rent. Every cent had gone into the coffee can buried in the backyard.

"I've got you," she whispered to the empty car.

By the time they reached the border of Missouri, the sun was setting again, painting the sky in shades of gold and fire. Percy woke up, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Where are we?"

"Almost to St. Louis," Annabeth said, her eyes fixed on the road. "I was thinking we should stop at a motel. A real one. We need a shower, Percy. You smell like a foot."

"Hey! That’s the smell of freedom," he retorted, though he sniffed his shirt and winced. "Yeah, okay. A shower sounds like heaven. But we have to be careful. No IDs."

"I know a place," Annabeth said. "I looked it up before we left. It’s a dive, but they take cash and don't ask questions."

The motel was called The Sunset Inn, which was an optimistic name for a place with a flickering neon sign and a parking lot full of potholes. The clerk was an older woman with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth who didn't even look up from her crossword puzzle.

"Forty bucks. No pets. No parties," she rasped.

Annabeth slid two twenty-dollar bills across the counter. "Just one night."

The room smelled of stale tobacco and industrial-strength lemon cleaner, but to them, it was a palace. Percy immediately headed for the bathroom, the sound of the shower a low roar through the thin walls.

Annabeth sat on the edge of the bed, her braids falling over her shoulders. She pulled out her phone—she’d already pulled the SIM card and broken it, but she used it as an offline storage for photos. She scrolled through the few pictures she had of her mother. A beautiful woman with the same brown skin and sharp, intelligent eyes as Annabeth.

"We’re doing it, Mom," she whispered.

Percy came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, a cloud of steam following him. He was wearing a clean grey t-shirt and sweatpants, his blonde hair damp and curling wildly.

"Your turn," he said, gesturing to the bathroom. "The water is actually hot. It’s amazing."

When Annabeth finished her shower, she felt like a new person. The grime of the road—and the grime of her old life—had been scrubbed away. She walked back into the room to find Percy sitting on the floor, counting the money again.

"We’re doing okay," he said, looking up at her. His eyes softened. "You okay?"

Annabeth sat down next to him on the thin carpet. "I’m scared, Percy. What if we don't make it? What if we run out of money in the middle of nowhere?"

Percy reached out, taking her hand. His thumb traced circles over her knuckles. "Then we’ll figure it out. We always do. You’re the brains, I’m the muscle—or the getaway driver, apparently. We’re a team, Annabeth. Forever."

Annabeth leaned her head on his shoulder. "Forever."

"And hey," Percy said, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. "If things get really bad, I can always start an OnlyFans for my feet. People like big feet, right?"

Annabeth burst out laughing, shoving him hard. "You are so fucking gross, Percy Jackson!"

"I’m just saying! Diversify the income streams!"

They collapsed onto the bed, the mattress lumpy and uncomfortable, but they didn't care. For the first time in their lives, no one was going to barge through the door. No one was going to scream at them. No one was going to hurt them.

"Annabeth?" Percy asked into the dark, hours later.

"Yeah?"

"I love you. You know that, right?"

Annabeth felt a lump form in her throat. They’d said it before, but tonight, it felt different. It wasn't just a declaration; it was a vow.

"I love you too, Percy. Now go to sleep before I kick you off this bed."

"Yes, ma'am."

As the neon sign outside hummed and the distant sound of the highway hummed like a lullaby, the two of them fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. They were sixteen, broke, and running from everything they’d ever known, but as the miles stretched out behind them, the world ahead finally looked wide enough to get lost in. And for the first time, being lost felt exactly like being home.