Okay, I apologize already for any grammatical errors (because I know I make many of them). This is simply a one shot about Percy when he's younger—say, about early eight—that I wrote on my iPod. This is preferably for people who read my story Apples.

I DO NOT OWN.

Bitter

Maybe Percy was bitter, but it wasn't like he should care; people were bitter to him, too, and, he thought, that gave him full rights to be cold and biting back.

That was the only reason, he told himself.

Because Percy Jackson wasn't scared.

Scared of breaking

Or learning

Or letting people in.

Pain didn't bother him.

Nope. Not at all.

He trudged down the sidewalk, turning left and swiping his feet longer than necessary along the concrete. Well, long than necessary for a sighted person; Percy was completely blind. It would seem, with him being an eight-year-old, that he would stick out to the people skipping happily across the street behind him, but that wasn't the case.

Percy seemed and acted older than his age, walking with a confident gait, head held high, a knowing look upon his face.

And, it all seemed more real with the fact that there was no one to watch him; he was alone. But that didn't bother him, like how it never crossed the minds of all the people around him.

Percy pulled his arms closer to himself as people came ever so close to him. One man—he guessed by the feeling of the build—bumped into him, and he gave a low, almost growling noise from the back of his throat.

The man, currently named Stu Pid, turned to him and said roughly, "Hey, kid, it was an accident. No need to go berserk on me."

Percy made stiff movements side to side with his head, saying, "No need to go berserk," but in a high pitched voice, which was highly unnecessary. He furrowed his brows. "Look, I'm just a grumpy kid. I won't go berserk on you if you don't bother me-which includes any kind if physical contact." His voice was normal-ish, kept at a steady tone with no sigh of emotion, but there was the ever existing threat behind. Mixed with the cold attitude, most everyone would shiver and leave as quickly as they could.

Apparently, this guy didn't understand the 'leave' part.

Suddenly, Stu Pid had a vise-like grip wrapped around Percy's upper arm and was dragging him the rest of the way across the street to a rather uncrowded area in front of some restaurant; Percy could only guess, but the stench of greasy pizza and a dumpster penetrating his nose helped him. He heard some guy say something in an awful Italian accent, though, and then it became clear. "Look, kid," the man growled in a low, deep voice. "I don't know what your problem is, but I don't like your attitude."

Truthfully, the second the man touched him, Percy was wound tighter than a coil, but, he realized slowly, the man wasn't threatening him. Not really. He seemed more... worried.

Worry.

That wasn't an emotion he knew all that well. He himself wasn't worried for anything except for those few close to him. Those same people he worried about were the only people who worried for him.

Until now, it seemed.

Percy couldn't help how his eyes bulged out a bit behind his sunglasses, but he didn't show his surprise. Instead, he kept up his tough guy attitude, because he learned the hard way that the world wasn't so nice. "I'm sorry that you don't have an affinity to my attitude, but, if you would please release me, I'll be on my merry way." Okay, maybe he wasn't acting the complete 'tough guy' thing, but he needed a different tactic with this guy. Being a smart-aleck tended to work.

"Ohhh... You're a smart one, I see." He jumped at the voice, because it wasn't Stu's voice, but a woman's. After realizing that someone else was right in from of him, he scrunched up his nose in frustration; yes, being blind wasn't fun at all when you were paranoid like he was. The woman grasped his arm. "And a skinny one. Kenny, we need to get some food down this boy."

"Kenny" chuckled. "Okay, Barbra." Percy heard touches of affection in both of their voices, and he guessed that they were married or something.

He gently tugged his arm from Barbra's grip ad clasped his hands together. "I'm sorry, but I'm not supposed to talk to strangers. My"—he gulped, forcing the single word out—"dad is probably out looking for me right now, actually, so I'll be off." He decided it would be best to leave out the part that his "dad" wasn't out searching for him out of good-nature, but so he could get a stern "teaching."

His arms were still sore and bruised.

"Oh," Barbra whispered quietly. "Well, then we can help you find him."

Percy, if possible, became even tenser than before. "No, no. It's fine," he rushed out. "I know my way."

"Well, kid," Kenny said in a much softer tone, "then we'll just stay with you 'til your dad comes." He paused. "Can you at least tell us your name?"

Percy hesitated. If he was being truthful, he would admit that he actually really wanted to tell them his name, because they were being genuinely nice to him, which didn't happen often. But, he was too far behind his walls. His exterior was staying tougher than diamonds and colder than dry ice. There wasn't going to be any chances in his attitude, at least not anytime soon. "Andrew," he told them in a hushed tone. "I go by Andrew."

Percy could feel the smile stretch across Barbra's face. "Hello, Andrew. I'm Barbra. Barbra Commings. It's nice to formally meet you."

He nodded stiffly. "Yes," he agreed. "It's nice to formally meet you, Barbra, even if it's under these... uhhh... particular circumstances." He gave a tight-lipped smile and began rocking on his heels. "Now, as I said before, I really should be going."

"Wait," Kenny ordered. "What about your parents? You said your dad would be looking for you right now. Don't you think it'd be easier for him to find you if you stayed put?"

No, he's probably passed out on the couch from too much alcohol, Percy thought bitterly. Instead of saying that though, he just gave another tight smile. "You're probably right—about me staying here, that is."

He heard Barbra lick her lips. "I know it isn't any of my business, but what about your mom? Isn't she looking for you too?"

And here it is, the reason why he always told people it was his "dad" who was looking for him. Without him wanting to, he felt himself grimace, something that happened every time. "I—I haven't seen her in a long time." Not a lie, he told himself. "I really miss her..." Again, not a lie. He just got back to the city after he... left for a week. When he said that his "dad" was looking for him, he always got a somewhat frightened look on his face that people always expected from a "lost" little kid.

"Oh," Barbra gasped. "I'm... I'm sorry. We had no idea."

Percy guessed that they thought she had died. Really, he was just heading toward the candy shop where his mom worked so he could finally see her again—he had figured out real fast she wasn't home.

Well, not really see, but... Meet. He was going to meet her again.

His lips twitched. "It's fine, but I really should get going now…"

"No, Andrew, we're going to bring you to our place, and you can call your dad from there," Kenny said in a voice that left for no argument.

"As long as I get to talk in private," Percy told him as he was being led up the sidewalk.

"Okay, sweetheart. We can allow that." Barbra squeezed his arm gently.

Percy rocked on his heels as Kenny jammed his keys into the front door. Barbra was gripping his right shoulder from behind. As it turns out, the couple were engaged, their wedding a mere three weeks away, and Percy felt as if he were intruding in on their planning. They were persistent though, and now, here he was, about to walk into their home.

"Come in. Come in," Barbra urged, giving him a slight shove.

Being his oh-so-graceful self, Percy stumbled over the ground, promptly face planting.

Almost face planting.

His arms were out in a flash, and he ended up in a push-up position. Rising from the ground, he dusted his hands in his jeans.

Barbra was at his side after a millisecond of surprise. "Are you okay? No, you're probably not, are you? Kenny, get this poor child some food. It's a wonder how he caught himself with those spindly things he calls arms." As Kenny walked to the kitchen, she bundled him up against her, and he felt himself tense at the contact.

Too much physical contact. Too much physical contact.

His breathing stopped all together as he waited for her to RELEASE him.

RELEASE. RELEASE. RELEASE.

"Hey"—she rubbed his cheek with the back of her hand—"what's wrong. You don't like hugs?"

"You're touching me. You're touching me. Too much. Too much." Stupid ADHD. Can't you keep quiet?

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you didn't—"

She was cut off by Kenny as he walked into the living room, where they were located, asking, "Is microwaved spaghetti alright? It's the quickest thing I could find." He stopped suddenly, and Percy could tell that he was staring. "Ummm... Did I miss something?"

"Honey," Barbra started, rising to her feet, "how about you put the food on the coffee table, so that Andrew here can watch some TV?" She patted Percy's back, sending him along to the coffee table.

Of course, he, being blind, had no idea where this coffee table was. But he was also stubborn, and asking for help wasn't one of his favorite pastimes. "Uhhh..." He gulped. "I don't know where the coffee table is." There, he wasn't asking for help; he was simply stating a fact.

"Andrew, it's right in front of you," Barbra told him, giving him a friendly push.

This was gonna hurt. "I can't see it." No need to watch, just waitin' for the pity.

"Maybe it's because of those silly glasses that you're wearing. You don't even need to wear them! You can't be older than eight!" Barbra tsked and attempted to grab the sunglasses from Percy's face.

This only sent him into a small—small—panic. He hands were up guarding his sunglasses instantly. "No!" he cried. Then he calmed down the tone of his voice, though it was shaky. "No, I mean—I mean I can't see. At all." He winced, unconsciously wiping his thumbs below his eyes.

"Excuse me? I don't understand."

Percy shifted uncomfortably. "I'm... I'm blind," he mumbled. "Just tell me where the table is and I should be fine."

Barbra began rambling: "Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry. I had no idea and—"

"Sorry for what?" Percy interrupted. "I'm just gonna go." He shoved one hand deep into the pocket of his jeans and reached out for the doorknob. His hand touched something cold, and he twisted it. The door creaked open, allowing him to leave.

And he did just that.

Hurrying down the hall, Percy didn't hear the sounds of footsteps behind him, which relived and saddened him.

Relieved because that meant no one was going to pity him; he could leave without any more guilt.

Sad because that meant no one felt compelled to stop him; no one cared enough.

He shook his head and continued on his path, using his memory to remember where he was. Two steps forward then five steps to the right; there will be the elevator.

He was on his third step to the right when a hand wrapped around his arm. "Kenny," he sighed, trying to rip his arm from the grasp.

"Andrew, you can't just walk out of here like that. It isn't safe to be alone around here, especially for a little kid," Kenny scolded lightly, already dragging Percy back to his home.

Percy didn't say anything; just went along with it. Am I growing soft? he asked himself. I hope not. That would be bad.

Stepping back into the room, Percy was squashed into a hug from Barbra. Then she stepped back quickly. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"What are you apologizing for, Barbra?" Kenny asked, giving a firm squeeze to Percy's shoulder.

"Mmm, he doesn't like being touched, Kenny," Barbra whispered, as if Percy couldn't hear that way.

"What do you mean?" He used the same whisper tone.

Percy could tell Barbra was pointing at him, but he was far too busy trying to figure out a way to get Kenny's hand off of him without seeming rude to bother. He didn't have to try anything though, because Kenny seemed to finally take notice of his rigid body. There was a tight squeeze on his shoulder, and then he was free of physical contact. Percy couldn't help the way he sighed silently with relief and the way his body slumped with relaxation. He would say thank you, but he'd learned long ago to preserve his thanks and apologies. They were to be rarely used.

"Oh," Kenny said. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh,'" Percy wanted to say, but he restrained himself, instead going with a tight smile.

"Well!" Barbra clapped her hands. "What about your food, Andrew? Don't want it to get cold now, do we?"

Percy heard her walk behind him, and then she hesitated. He sighed. "Just tell me where it is and if there's anything on the floor. I should be fine." He hated this—how people treated him as if he couldn't do anything. At least they weren't shouting at him as if he were deaf; people had done that before, and it didn't exactly boost his self-esteem.

"Ummm..." She stuttered, "A bit to your right. More diagonal, though! And—and—!"

"I'll just say you're trying to tell me one or two o'clock." He began walking in the general direction, and soon his knee gently bumped into a low to the ground table. Rounding the corner, he traced his hand to a plate of steaming food, and he felt a couch behind him. Percy promptly sat down, grabbing a fork and serving himself some food.

Tension hung in the air as he ate, but Percy ignored it; by now he was used to the tension that came with the awkwardness of him being blind.

Someone sat next to him. "So... you're blind?" Kenny shifted on the couch.

Percy nodded his head, shoving more food in his mouth. When was the last time he had eaten like this? A least a week ago; but it could be more, since he didn't eat that much in the first place. He was hungry though, his stomach twisting and rubbing against his spine.

"Andrew, you should probably slow down. You might choke," Barbra warned.

Percy shoveled the last of his food into his mouth, then pushed his plate away. He swallowed. "Done," he announced unnecessarily. "Now I won't choke." More silence. It was beginning to get to Percy now. "Can I call now?"

"Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes. Of course. Ummm... Would you like me to call for you or—?"

Percy waved Barbra off. "If you could just give me a phone and a private place, I'll be fine."

"Okay. Right through the kitchen here."

He smirked. "You're pointing, aren't you?"

"I'm so sorry! How stupid of me! Here, let me show you the way—"

Percy couldn't help the ever-so-small—but existing—laugh that seeped from in between his lips. "You don't know how to treat me, do you?" He shook his head and felt Kenny shift again in front of him. "Guessing from anything architectural, and from common sense and logic, I'd say the kitchen is to the right, by the couch. So..." He stood and walked past the couch, trailing his fingers against the rough wall for no more than four steps. "Here."

A swinging door appeared, and he knew passed it was the kitchen. "All you have to show me, Barbra, is the phone," Percy said over his shoulder as he took light, almost dancing steps to the kitchen table.

"O—okay. I can do that." There was shuffling, and then a cool, plastic object was placed in his hand.

"Do you need any help?" Kenny asked, but Percy shooed both of them out.

"Privacy. Right now, that's all I need."

There was a clearing of the voice, and then, "Whatever you say, Andrew. We'll be in the living room." Kenny gave Percy another pat on the shoulder.

Once they were out of the kitchen and he could hear the television laughing, Percy began dialing.

But not to Smelly Gabe.

He was calling his mom's work.

The phone rang, and panic began penetrating its way to his heart. What if she didn't pick up?

"Hello?" a voice asked. "Who do you wish to speak to?"

"Sally. Sally Jackson. Please." His hands were shaking violently. Please be there, he prayed. Please.

"Hello, Sally Jackson here."

Worry and fear melted off of Percy in waves. "Mom." His voice cracked. "It's me, Percy."

"Percy!" There was a gasp, and he wondered if tears were falling; he wasn't very fond of tears, even happy ones. "Where have you been? No, don't answer that. Why did you leave? Oh, I was so worried. Are you at home? Oh, I have to leave. I have to see my baby boy."

Percy cut in, before more questions were fired: "Mom, I'm fine. I just... needed some thinking time. But I'm fine now, I promise."

"I'm heading home right now, and—"

"Mom, I'm not at home."

"Where are you then?" Percy silently noted how she didn't ask why he wasn't home; she knew he went there and then left in search of her. She knew, like all mothers knew.

The bruises throbbed on Percy's wrists. "Some people found me and took me to their place." That sounded bad. "They're nice though! So don't worry. They're nice! Gave me food and everything. And—"

"You know, you're still horrible with your words," his mom laughed. "Now, tell me where this place is and I'll pick you up."

Percy sucked in a deep breath of air. "I'll try to meet you outside of the building, but if not, I'll be in front of room 4212 at..."

"Andrew, maybe you should wait in the room," Kenny suggested. "As I said before, it isn't safe to be alone, especially if you're a little kid."

It took all of Percy's will power not to burst out laughing. Sure, the thought was nice, but he knew how to take care of himself. "I'll be fine, Kenny. I know how to take care of myself." He could tell that Kenny had given him a pointed look, because most people did. "I'm serious."

"Uhhh, I don't know..."

"What, do I need to tell you I beat up a police officer with his own Taser in Virginia?" True story, he thought.

"A little guy like you? Nah, not possible." Kenny rolled his eyes. "If you insist, though, I'll stand outside of the room with you."

No, no, no, no, no! Percy knew if his mom came face to face with these people, lies were going to unravel.

That. Would. Be. Bad.

Awful, really.

"Mmm... Errr... No, it's fine."

"No, no, I think both of us would like to meet your dad. Wouldn't it be nice, Barbra?"

She clapped her hands. "Yes! I would love to meet the man who takes such good care of you!"

"I really don't think that's necessary. I can just say good bye and thank you myself." Percy gave a nervous laugh, when there was a knock at the door.

A desperate knock. The knock he knew his mother would use.

"That's probably him right now!" Barbra shouted, flinging the door open. "Oh." Her voice was quiet. "Not to sound rude, but who are you?"

"I'm Sally Jackson. My son called me and told me to pick him up," Percy heard his mom say, a curious tone to her voice, like she was silently asking, Don't you know I'm supposed to be here?

Percy decided that moment was best to jump in, before questions were asked, like he knew would happen. "Thanks Kenny, Barbra. Now, we ought to get outta here, so... c'mon." He grabbed his mother's hand and began dragging her away from the door.

But Kenny had to talk. "Wait, you're Andrew's mom? But he told us she was dead."

Sally stopped right then and there, twirling on her heels and placing Percy in front of her; she gripped both his shoulders. "No, I most definitely am not dead, and my son's name is Percy, not Andrew." She tapped her foot impatiently. "Percy, I think we all deserve an explanation. Don't you?"

Percy chuckled, swiping a hand through his hair under his gray beanie; he twisted his chain. "So... my name is Percy. Percy Jackson..."

"Why did you lie to us?" Barbra asked, her voice quavering.

"No... Don't cry. It's—it's just something I do. I guess you could say that I have... trust issues." Percy really wasn't liking how he was explaining. Just be bitter, he told himself. It's easier that way.

"What about your mom? You said she was dead," Kenny said.

"I didn't say she was dead. I said I hadn't seen her in a long time. And"—he waved a hand in front of his blind eyes—"that's true."

"You tricked us." Percy could practically see the tears spilling over Barbra's cheeks.

"No. No, don't cry. Please don't cry. Oh..." He sighed. "Now I feel guilty, and I'm not supposed to feel guilty," he whined, stomping his foot.

"And why aren't you supposed to feel guilty?" Kenny asked, his voice deep and tone warning.

Percy felt his insides twist. You've done it now, a part of his brain seemed to taunt. Broken their hearts and stomped on their trust. Ruined their wedding. "I..." He trailed off. What was he going to say, that he was the bad guy? That he always was the bad guy? "I'm just not supposed to!" he finally shouted. "I'm supposed to be tough and cold! It's what I do! It's who I am—the bad guy..." He laughed hysterically. Great, now he was losing it.

Barbra sniffled. "Honey, no. You're not the bad guy. I was just upset—"

"That I hurt your feelings by lyin'. I know. I always do somethin' wrong! 'Cause I am the bad guy! Ya hear me? Bad. Guy." Percy was really, really losing it now; he was babbling—nearly screaming at the top of his lungs—though the words didn't make sense, like he didn't know what was going on. Like he was crazy.

Maybe they were all right and he was insane.

"Percy, Percy, Percy, calm down. Calm down, Percy," his mother whispered into his ear. "Calm down."

Calm down. Yeah, like that would happen, the more sensible part of his brain said.

Now he was talking himself. What next? He would try to stab his mother?

Jeez.

Percy ignored that more sensible section of his brain, though, and began attempting to calm himself, by rubbing his pointer finger and thumb together. He breathed deeply. Sound sane. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Guess I sorta lost it. Happens sometimes."

His mom tapped his shoulder. "I mean, it happens sometimes." Another tap. "And, I guess I sort of lost it."

"Better," Percy's mother praised, giving him a hug from behind.

"What was that?" Kenny asked, nearly sounding hysterical himself.

Percy waved his hand. "Oh, she tells me not to drop my G's and to remember my subjects sometimes. It's nothing out of the ordinary."

"No, the whole... other thing." Kenny's voice was weak sounding, like his knees were giving out from under him.

"Oh." Percy felt his face flush. "That—that happens sometimes, too, when I'm stressed or nervous."

He heard them gulp, and he knew what they were thinking.

"We didn't mean to make you stressed or nervous," Barbra whispered, her voice gentle. "We were upset that you felt the need to lie to us. That's all."

Percy laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, it doesn't take much to set me off."

"We're sorry," Kenny apologized.

"No, you guys shouldn't say the apologizes to me. I should say them to you. So, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied or tricked you two. Really, I shouldn't have let you guys bring me to your home in the first place." Percy sighed afterward. That was a speech he wasn't going to repeat.

There was silence for a while, not an uncomfortable one, yet not a comfortable one either.

"We should get going," Percy said, rocking on his heels.

"Before the atmosphere changes again," his mother laughed. "C'mon, Percy. Let's go already."

He nodded, almost morosely, and they both turned. "Thanks, guys, for everything."

"Wait." Percy heard footsteps behind him and his mother. "Sally, here's my number. Maybe we can talk soon, meet up for some coffee," Barbra suggested.

"Oh." Percy felt his mom turn to face Barbra. "That—that would be nice."

"So, I guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah, I guess so," Sally whispered as they walked down the hallway.

Percy's mother and Barbra did meet up for coffee two days later, and they learned they had a lot in common. In the span of an hour, they practically became best friends. In fact, they became so close that Barbra insisted that the two, Sally and Percy, had to go to the wedding.

So there he sat in the pew, dressed smartly in his tuxedo, which he persistently told people made him feel like a penguin. The crowd stood as the music, "Here Comes the Bride", echoed around the small church, and Barbra clopped down the aisle in her killer (killing, according to himself and the blisters women complained about) heels.

Percy phased out during the vows and such, only returning to the world of living when the words, "You may now kiss the bride," we're spoken. There was some awe-ing and cheers, then the ceremony was over.

He didn't think he could ever be happier. That is, until food was mentioned. "Over here, ladies and gentlemen, to the dining room. Dinner will be served soon."

His mother gently grasped his wrist so she could lead him through the ever growing crowd. "Here, Percy." Sally placed his hand on a chair.

He grinned, yanking it out and quickly sitting himself down. He tapped his head, making sure that he didn't have his beanie, then around his waist line for his chain; neither were on him. After much argument and bribing, Percy had finally relented and allowed his mother to take these special objects, but it still felt weird. The only thing he could take was his pair of sunglasses, but that was only because he was blind.

His grin grew wider and he rubbed his hands together. "So, where's the food?" Percy asked, feeling his stomach growl.

"Ha ha!" a lady near him laughed. "You are just too sweet."

"Sweeter than any candy." Someone pinched his cheeks.

Percy blinked. Sweet? Since when? He figured he was bitter—the type of person who shouted at little kids to get off their lawn when they were old. He never pictured himself as sweet. He was always the bad guy, right?

But maybe they were right.

Maybe he wasn't all tougher than diamonds and colder than dry ice.

Percy smiled softly. "Yeah, I guess I am sweet, huh?"

Fine

Again, I apologize for grammatical errors; I did try to fix them.

It seems a bit rough to me, not my best work, but I hope you enjoyed.

~XxxXGreek GeekXxxX