Percy Jackson

The sun was setting over Camp Half-Blood. You were holding a bag of blue cookies you'd made for Percy because you knew he liked them. From a distance, you saw him laughing with Annabeth and Grover. They seemed happy, as if no one was missing. You felt like there wasn't a place for you. "Aren't you going with them?" Clarisse asked. Then you answered. But you always said the same thing. You looked at the cookies and remembered imagining spending the afternoon with Percy. He loved you, hugged you, and told you you were amazing, but you still felt like there was always someone more important. Percy was the hero. The Chosen One. The first. And you were Zeus's second son, the second to be seen, the second choice. That night, near the camp's border, Luke Castellan appeared. "I knew you'd come." "I didn't come for you." Luke smiled. "You came because you're tired of Percy always being first." You shook your head, but his words stung. "Who defeated the Minotaur? Percy. Who fulfills the prophecies? Percy. Who has everyone's trust? Percy." You lowered your gaze. From the camp, you heard Percy's laughter, which soon reached your side when he saw Luke. "Don't touch her, Castellan." After that and an argument between them, you returned to the camp, but now you wondered if you should accept. For the first time, you thought that leaving wasn't an impossible idea. Maybe far away from there, you would stop being second best. Maybe with Luke, you could be someone important. Even if it meant losing everything you once called home.