~Okay, this is going to be extremely long -- so please read through it all, and feel free to wander in at any time. It's open. (:
It's that time of year again, Jonah thought sullenly. His warm caramel eyes now hard and unmoving. Why does he insist I visit him every freaking year? Jonah questioned in his head, grabbing a fist full of his sweatshirts and stuffing them into his expandable backpack, courtesy of the Hephaestus kids.
Just before Jonah had arrived at camp three years ago, his dad had non-resistantly bugged him about visiting him so he would get a sense that his son was still alive and well. Yeah, well, his son wasn't too happy about it. Honestly, wasn't it enough to just send a letter or two, using that old crummy letter template? Apparently not for Jonah's dad. Oh no, John Stevens wanted a full meeting with his son. Face to face.
In one of Jonah's recent letters to his father, he had subliminally suggested that he NOT visit his dad this year, that he wanted to stay with his friends, and not ditch them like he had the two years beforehand. But did his dad catch any hint at all from it? Well, if he did, he definitely didn't show it in his letter back to Jonah.
Jonah's mind swirled with agitation. Sure, he loved his dad; who wouldn't love the guy who raised you? But even so, it seriously got on Jonah's nerves that he had to go through with this every single year. Jonah had set his jaw just thinking about it. Had it even crossed his mind that there are MONSTERS out there beyond the boundaries of Camp Half Blood? Is he aware that they could kill his son? A thought had struck Jonah last year on how he could charmspeak his dad into letting him stick with his cabin for the rest of the years, but he quickly had crossed that off his mind. Trick his dad using his powers? That wouldn't just be weird, it would be cruel. Even if Jonah didn't like it, he wasn't willing to be someone like his step sisters who used their charmspeaking ability, if they even had it, to weasle out of things.
He finished stuffing the last of his clothing into his bag, and zipped it shut. He quickly grabbed his remaining clothes for outside of the boundaries of camp and got them on. He wore faded jeans and a black sweatshirt, contrasting with his hair, which had caught a slight pale glow to it in the light, now looking a frosty color.
With his jaw set, his white teeth hidden behind his soft lips, and his caramel eyes as hard as rock, he slung his pack onto his bed and waited for the clock to strike 8, when he would have to go to Argus to get a ride to the airport.
He had some time to spare, so he decided to go and chat with some of his step brothers and sisters; maybe they had an idea on how to handle this. And if Jonah was lucky, maybe they would come with him to spare him the awkward moments when him and his dad were alone. All he could do was hope.
