Hey! I'm here!

Ready? I don't own PJO.

Enjoy!

And now I'm gone...

Third Person Limited (Annabeth)

The church was packed to the brim with people. Family, friends, everyone. Kids, too. Even a few Annabeth's age. Not that she'd really get to talk to them.

There were only three kids Annabeth had talked to: Leanne, a girl slightly older than her who insisted that being a flower girl was "so cool" and that she, Leanne, was jealous; Elissa, a girl older by four years, who fake pitied her for having to be a flower girl in the wedding of her father and her "evil stepmother;" and Brian, who seemed to think that he was going to his aunt's cousin's son's bar mitzvah.

Truthfully, Annabeth didn't know what to think. Helen wasn't especially mean, and she made Annabeth's father happy, but she didn't really show Annabeth much emotion. Not real emotion, anyway.

The wedding ceremony was about to start. The other three flower girls were Lacey, Morgan, and Willow. Willow was the oldest at seven, then Morgan at six. Lacey was the youngest at three and a half. Annabeth was four and a half (A/N: Don't know when her father remarries, just go with it) and the only flower girl who wasn't part of Helen's family. Willow was Helen's cousin's daughter, Morgan was her brother's daughter, and Lacey was her sister's youngest child. Annabeth couldn't help but feel out-of-place, even surrounded by family members, each of whom commented on how lovely she looked in her lilac dress, on what an angel she was holding that darling little basket of flower petals, and spoke of how her pretty blonde curls made her look just like a princess. The chatter wore her down. She couldn't wait to get it over and done with. She hadn't asked for this wedding. Helen had wanted her to be a flower girl, so her father agreed, naturally. Everything Helen wanted, Helen got.

Everyone was getting into place. Helen looked beautiful, her highlighted hair shining in its elegant bun, her one shoulder dress hanging off her slender frame perfectly, the shimmery fabric glowing softly, even as she fidgeted nervously.

Annabeth suddenly wanted nothing more than to run and hide. Her father was getting married. He was officially moving on.

He had once told Annabeth, "Your mother was the best thing that ever happened to me. She was smart, she was beautiful, she knew what she was doing. She was extraordinary. I loved her."

Had he forgotten? Because now, all he talked about was Helen, and how pretty and smart and calm and balanced and perfect and ordinary she was, and how that was exactly what he need when dealing with a child like Annabeth. It was like he had never met Annabeth's mother, like she had never existed, like she was nothing to him anymore. He acted like Annabeth was nothing to him.

"When you came to me, I wanted her to take you back," he muttered under his breath after Annabeth had broken one of his figurines. "This is what children do. And a child like you... well, you were bound to be trouble." He never knew that Annabeth had heard. He never said it to her face. But Annabeth understood. He hadn't wanted her.

The music started. The doors opened. Annabeth and the other flower girls started down the aisle, spreading their petals. Then came the bridesmaids, followed by Helen on her father's arm.

Afterwards, everyone remarked on how beautiful the ceremony was, and how happy they would be. Annabeth only remembered her father's face as they all walked down the aisle. He had seen Annabeth. He had met her eyes. He had smiled lightly at her. Then his gaze moved to Helen, and that's when he really smiled. Like he had loved Annabeth and her mother once, but he had moved on, just as his gaze had, onto Helen, and he loved her so much more than he would ever love Annabeth and her mother. They were a trial, and a faulty one. Helen was better.

During the wedding, Annabeth had the urge to run. She didn't, though. She waited until the reception. Then she walked over and sat in a corner, glaring at anyone who dared try and bother her.

Only one woman succeeded in disturbing her. "You were the other flower girl!" she said, holding Lacey by the hand. Helen's sister, Lauren. "You were adorable! How are you related to Frederick, again?"

Annabeth felt the color drain from her face. They didn't even know. "He's my father," she said quietly. Not to them, she thought. To them, I was just a flower girl. Not the daughter of the groom. Just part of the procession, leading up to the real star of his life; Helen. His bride.

Lauren smiled. "Oh, of course! You have his hair, you know."

Annabeth did know. She didn't respond to Lauren, however, deciding that something that obvious didn't deserve a response.

Lauren frowned at Annabeth's lack of response. "Well, good-bye, then."

Annabeth didn't respond.

Later, she heard Lauren tell Helen about their conversation. "Such a rude child," she whispered. "Good luck with her."

Helen nodded. Her eyes bored into Annabeth's hair. Annabeth could almost sense it. She was sure that Helen would tell Annabeth's father of Lauren's complaint, and Annabeth would surely be scolded for being so "rude" to her new aunt.

Annabeth didn't care. Her father didn't care for her, so why she should she care for his new family, his real family. Because Annabeth was just the flower girl. She wasn't part of his new family.

Annabeth could see clearly, as though watching a movie, what would happen in the future. Helen would have her father's children. These children would be wonderful, perfect, ordinary angels, because their mother was a perfect, ordinary woman of an angel. They wouldn't be like Annabeth, who attracted trouble everywhere she went. Like Annabeth, who he once called extraordinary and now called a pain. Like Annabeth, whose mother was special, but not as special as Helen, not as normal as Helen. Because Frederick Chase had had it with extraordinary. Athena (for that was Annabeth's mother's name) had been enough extraordinary for him. Annabeth was too much. Now Frederick Chase needed normal.

And in his new life, Annabeth would be part of the scenery. Not the leading woman, just a girl in a supporting role. Not his daughter, just the other flower girl.

Just the flower girl.

I loved this idea. I loved the idea of Annabeth being a flower girl being a metaphor for how her father had focused on a new part of his life, the bride, and she was just part of the procession leading up to the bride. And how no one in Helen's family knew that the flower girl who wasn't part of their clan was Frederick's daughter. How she was just another part of the procession, not their family. It just touched me in a way, and all I can think is, "Wow, she's deep for a four-year-old."

Yep. I definitely have my priorities in order, don't I?

So there! I am done.

Love ya! lulu