Chapter Text
Sally blows hair out of her face, hands braced against the sink as she stares at the dishes in front of her.
Percy was talking a mile a minute, telling her yet another story from Camp Half-Blood and she’s so– so grateful that he’s doing okay, or as okay as she can hope considering what he’s been through.
Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised that Percy’s doing so well and so damn well-adjusted, talking casually about fighting against monsters and running across the country without batting an eye– all of the passion and the audacity that only a twelve-almost-thirteen year old boy can have. It pains her, frustratingly so that she wasn’t able to be there for him for any of it– all the things that she had tried so desperately to keep him from for years now being so much a part of him that she couldn’t bear the thought of what he’d do if he couldn’t see his friends again.
There were a lot of times in Sally Jackson’s life when she felt as if things were completely out of her control– her parents dying when she was half Percy’s age, dropping out of high school to take care of an insufferable uncle battling cancer who she can’t say she’s sorry that he’s gone, falling in love with a man who wasn’t a man at all– but this, choosing to be everything and anything for her son even if it scared her.
That was something she’d do anything to protect.
“And then Annabeth just went up and–”
“How is Annabeth?” She asks, straightening up and turning the water back on– surreptitiously glancing over her shoulder to watch as he turns beet red, rolling his eyes.
“Mom.”
“What? All I asked is how she is. When did that become a crime?”
“When you asked like that ,” Percy points out, glaring at her as he cuts into his waffle. It was blue, just like his eyes and about as big as his head. Cooking hadn’t been the most natural thing to Sally when she first became a mom but now it was second nature, the kind of thing that she’s grateful to have gotten better at if only to see the look on Percy’s face when he takes another bite.
“ Mom ,” he says, half-chewed food in his mouth making it come out garbled, “this is so good.”
“Close your mouth. Geez, who raised you?” she teases, seeing him grin as she turns back over to the dishes– finishing up the last of the pans. It’s a comfortable quiet, Sally thinking of all the different things she needs to get done for the day.
She needs to get through her shift at Sweet on America and then find a way to make it NYU’s admissions office, all the money now sitting in her bank account making her antsy to get started on finally getting to work on her novel. She’d been toying around with the idea of writing the story of her and Poseidon– without reference to the fact that he was a god, now that he was an actual part of Percy’s life– but there was enough that Sally knew about writing to know what she didn’t , namely how exactly to translate the fantastical world that she had lived in onto pen and paper.
She’s a little self conscious at the possibility of being a freshman in college in her mid-30s but after years of living under Gabe, years of struggling tooth and nail to protect Percy from the world of his father– only for now each of those things to have come to their conclusion in different ways, Sally knew she couldn’t keep putting herself on the backburner.
If she was going to continue to make a life worth living for Percy, a life outside the dangers that awaited him at Camp Half-Blood, she had to do more with herself than this.
She’s startled out of her thoughts when she feels small arms wrap around her waist, laughing when she turns the water off and shifts around to see Percy smiling at her.
“Thanks mom,” he says, eyes boring into hers and simultaneously looking just like her little boy and so much older .
For all the stories that he’s told her about his trip across the country with Grover and Annabeth, Sally knows– in a way that she can’t explain– that there are some things that he’ll never say, some pieces of him that will forever be out of reach to her.
In some respects, it was normal– any mom knew that the day would come that the person they most wanted to confide in wouldn’t be the one who raised them, but it still ached to know the day had come so soon– Percy having grown up right in front of her eyes.
She’s thankful for this, for the hugs he still freely gives her and for the way that he laughs when she hugs him back– pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek as he laughs and squirms.
“Alright, alright, okay, I’m good,” he says but Sally doesn’t let go.
Not yet , she thinks– her brave and beautiful boy being part of a world that she doesn’t understand and that he doesn’t share with her.
She wishes he did. Until then, she’ll do everything she can to make sure his life with her is better than before–
and never be the first to let him go.
“Unfortunately, you’ll need to–”
“That wasn’t in the application,” Sally says, looking bewildered as she sits in front of the admissions counselor– a kind, but firm expression on their face. “I– I have the money. And my GED. Do you need another copy or–”
“We have all your records,” the woman says, placatingly in a way that just veers on the side of condescending. “But as I said before, the GED you have isn’t quite enough.”
“Why the hell not?” She asks, exasperated as the woman folds her hands together.
“Mrs. Jackson–”
“It’s Ms.,” Sally corrects on auto-pilot, the woman’s lips pursing together.
“ Ms . Jackson, as I was saying, while we do have a copy of your GED, I’m afraid that when we went to verify the validity of the certificate that nothing came up.”
Sally blinks, confused as she asks, “what do you mean?”
“I mean,” the woman says, reaching for the paper in her own files before staring at it appraisingly, “that this is a fraud, coming from an unaccredited organization that’s since been disbanded.
“ What? ” Sally asks, reaching for the paper in the woman’s hands but being unable to– the woman staring at her over her glasses.
“Now normally, we’d report these things. As you probably know, submitting false documentation like this is a criminal offense–”
“It’s not a fraud,” Sally argues vehemently, “I took classes–”
“But seeing as the company that you completed this… program from has been publicized to provide fraudulent certifications, we won’t hold this against you,” the woman says, Sally sitting back in her chair and feeling every bit of the idiot that she’s so clearly trying to make her feel.
Her mind flashes back to what felt like seemingly countless hours studying for that GED, a crying baby in the other room and a dozen flashcards all around her shitty apartment as she crammed in all that she could in between shifts at the diner she worked in at the time. Sally had never particularly been great in school but she studied harder than anything she’s ever had to make sure that she passed that test– committed even then that she wouldn’t have her son be subjected to the unstable kind of employment that only came from working under the table without a high school diploma.
To know now that all that studying had been for nothing, that all of that work, blood, sweat and tears for a certificate that she’d been proud of– had all been a part of some scam– felt like some cruel trick from the universe.
Or maybe the gods , she thinks ruefully– the woman clearing her throat as she looks back up at her.
“We’re on a rolling admissions basis,” she says primly, “meaning that since everything else is in order, we can keep hold of your application until it’s complete. Once you’re able to secure an accredited GED certificate–”
“I have to take the test again?” She asks, the woman pressing her lips together in annoyance at being interrupted.
“ Than we can consider your application and move forward.”
Sally sighs, leaning back in her chair even more.
Well, fuck me.
Sally takes her time getting home.
She knows Percy is with Grover, going to see a movie of all things which she’s convinced is some kind of code for something else. She needs to have another talk with him about lying to her– and redefining that a lie by omission is still, in fact, a lie– but for now, she’s grateful that he’s occupied for another hour or two.
It gives her time to figure out how and what she’s going to do by the time she makes it home.
More importantly, it gives her time to cry.
It’s a rite of passage to cry on the subway in the city, something that Sally’s not particularly proud of but has done plenty of times before. It’s not as if anyone else gives a shit, millions of people all wrapped up in their own world and trying to do their own thing.
Sally is used to being alone, to be faced with nothing and no one but the prospect of her own ingenuity to move forward. It’s what helped her survive those years with her uncle, helped her survive years of working to provide for Percy, helped her in surviving under Gabe.
This feels different, like the rug has been well and truly pulled out from under her– the one thing that she had done for herself and to better herself, the one thing she had had as a point of pride aside from ensuring that Percy stayed alive, happy, and whole, being getting her GED with no one’s help but her own.
That this has been taken from her, right when everything felt like it was finally going to go right, feels too cruel to put into words.
Sally lets the tears fall as she walks through the subway, wiping them away as she makes her way up the steps and pass the array of flyers and graffiti that adorn her stop– only to pause mid-step when her eyes catch on one that she’s seen and ignored in all the years she’s lived here.
She stares at the piece of paper, faded and markered over as people move around her in annoyance, a plan forming in her mind as she checks her watch.
She has another hour before Percy will be due back home, mentally going through the MTA lines and how long it’ll take her.
Sally turns back around and steps back down into the subway with one destination in mind.
“Hi, welcome to FEAST,” a volunteer says as Sally steps in, a smile on her face as they ask, “what can I help you with?”
“I’m here about the GED classes,” she says, nodding towards them as they smile back at her.
“Wonderful, we’re just about to start another round next week,” they say, going to grab some papers and a clipboard. “Will you need financial assistance to complete the course?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head as they give her a sympathetic smile– pointedly not looking at the ridiculous striped costume that she’s wearing.
“If you do, please be sure to check the box here,” they say, marking an x on what looks like an intake form. “Just fill this out and bring it back to me when you’re done. If you have any questions, let me know.”
“Thank you,” Sally says, undeterred by their quiet judgment at her outfit. She has a plan now, a way forward. She can afford to pay for the class, can afford a brand new apartment for her and Percy– the taste of real freedom right at the edge of her tongue now, so close that she can taste it.
Sally takes the pen and the clipboard, goes to sit and fill out the form as she steadies herself.
Sally’s never let anything bring her down before, not when it came to making a good life for Percy.
She’s not going to start now.