AN: Ficlet in honor of the 'most wonderful time of the year' which we all know actually isn't. Not quite as long as I'd like, but the idea was nagging me. Some nice stepfather-stepson bonding time... This is definitely fluff, which is something I'm not used to writing. Takes place the first day of school Percy's sophomore year, a few weeks after the Battle of Manhattan. Enjoy!

Tenth

Or, A Little Bit of Enlightenment

The air was hot and humid on September 3rd that year, and drivers in the long drop-off line at Goode High School could see heat waves shimmering from the pavement, which had been repaired hastily the previous week after the mysterious and frightening events of the summer. A slightly beat-up blue Prius glided past the shiny black and silver cars, earning a few honks from the impatient businessmen and overworked housewives dropping their teenagers off for the first day of school.

"It never gets old," Paul said with a chuckle, glancing over at one particularly incensed man in a Maserati who had decided to flip him the New Jersey state bird.

"Isn't that Dylan Moore's dad?" Percy asked, craning his neck to peer at the tall, athletic-looking senior clambering out of the sports car. "'Cause if it is, you could definitely flunk him for that."

"Percy," his stepfather sighed, "you know I can't do that… however much I might want to." The Prius slid smoothly into Mr. Blofis's designated parking spot behind the school. "But," he added as he turned the engine off, "I suddenly have the urge to give my students a pop quiz on the summer reading they didn't do, and it just so happens that Dylan Moore is in that class! What a strange coincidence, don't you think?"

He shot Percy one of those signature inside joke winks, the kind that always reminded Percy of a movie star a little bit.

The son of Poseidon smirked. "I don't think I've ever been happier about a pop quiz."

"And I don't think I've ever heard you at all enthusiastic about anything remotely related to academics."

"It's not going to be a regular thing."

"Oh, trust me," Paul said, "I know. Especially since you're going to have Dr. Boring again this year, and he's famous for being… you know…"

"Boring? Yeah, I learned that about a year ago." Percy's gaze wandered, resting on white-haired Mr. Bell, who was giving the welcome speech to a cluster of freshmen babbling nervously as they walked up to the entrance. He remembered his first day at Goode last year…

And the enormity of his first day of sophomore year struck him. He was at the same school he'd been at in ninth grade, even though he'd already blown up the building once. He was a sophomore, and in two years he'd be done with school. He was sixteen, and he wasn't dead.

"You realize how weird this is, right?" he asked Paul suddenly, shifting his mostly empty backpack restlessly on his shoulder. He checked his pocket for Riptide out of habit, tapping the ballpoint pen against his leg.

"What's weird?"

"That this is my second year here. I haven't been at a single school for two years ever. Like, not even in preschool. I always got kicked out."

Paul paused on his way up the steps and stared at his stepson as if he'd never quite understood him before, and had gotten a small insight into the labyrinth that is the teenage mind. Which of course he had, but it was quite an experience for the English teacher.

"Really?"

"Yup." He started fiddling with Riptide's cap absentmindedly. "In eighth grade it was some bulls, then seventh was Canadians, sixth was calling one of the teachers an old sot, fifth was shooting the school bus with a cannon, fourth—"

"A cannon? In fifth grade?"

Percy heaved an exasperated sigh. "I didn't mean to hit it. We were on a field trip to Saratoga, and it just kinda went off. Really," he added when Paul shot him a disbelieving glance.

"Wow."

"I know. Kinda shocking that I'm still allowed into any school, right?"

Paul continued staring at Percy, wondering how he was so casual about being expelled from almost a dozen schools. He figured he'd explained it so many times before, though, that it was only mildly uncomfortable.

"Well," Paul finally said; he still seemed quite bewildered. "Happy second year of school, Percy."