Atty Jackson and the Lightning Thief

Ok, I have to confess: I ditched Grover at the bus station.

Call me an asshole: I definitely was.

But he was freaking me out, muttering about how ‘it’s always tenth grade’ and looking at me as if I had some sort of incurable disease.

It didn’t shock me that as soon as we got to the station, Grover made a beeline for the restroom. Whenever he got nervous, his bladder acted up. Once he had gone into the bathroom, I simply headed out front of the station, waved over a cab, and hopped in.

“East, One-hundred-and-fourth and First,” I told the driver.

Allow me to tell you a bit about my mother.

Her name is Sally Jackson (yes, like my roommate at Yancy) and she’s the best person in the world, which just goes to show that the best people have the worst luck. Her parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who mostly ignored her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent her high-school years working to save money to get into a college with a good creative writing program. Then her uncle got cancer and she had to drop out to take care of him (which is so unfair, I mean, he never did anything even slightly hinting he cared about her, but she had to take care of him? Fucked up). Once he died, she was left broke with no high school diploma.

One of the few good things was meeting my dad. Which just makes it hurt more that he never stuck around to see me grow up - he never even would’ve known I was actually his daughter, not his son.

I don’t have any real memories of him, just this sort of feeling of being protected, maybe his smile. My mom doesn’t like talking about him because it makes her sad.

They weren’t married, you see. He was rich and important (whoop-dee-doo) and their relationship was a secret (he probably was married to someone else he didn’t want finding out). One day, he set sail across the Atlantic and never came back.

My mom insisted he was just lost at sea. Not dead.

Once upon a time, I would’ve wanted him to have visited. To have shown up for one dam birthday, for Christmas, or any other holiday. I had long since stopped hoping. Now I just resented him. If it hadn’t been for him knocking my mom up with me, maybe her life would be in a better spot. Maybe she would never have married Gabe. She sure as hell wouldn’t need to spend so much time dealing with my fuck-ups at school.

She worked a low-paying job, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me alone. And let me tell you, I was no easy kid. She never complained, but I knew my constant getting in trouble caused her no end of stress, and that’s not even getting into what had happened two years ago…

Eventually, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first few minutes we knew him, then showed his true colors as a total ass. I had nicknamed him ‘Smelly Gabe.’ I’m sorry, but it’s an accurate name. Even now, years after my mom kicked him to the curb (I’ll get into that in a bit), I could still remember his smell - like garlic and gym shorts that hadn’t been washed in months.

They were married for a few years. After I had figured out my gender when I was 12 and told my mom, she had gotten me puberty blockers over the Christmas break. When I next returned home that Summer, I had started experimenting with more feminine presentations - makeup, girly clothes, et cetera. I had been careful to not let Gabe find out, but he caught me anyway. My mom came home to him banging on the bathroom door, yelling at me to come out. After that, she had pretty quickly kicked him out. Fortunately for us, the apartment was in her name. He still took his car with him.

Months later, we heard on the news he had died driving drunk and ran into a tree, totalling his precious Camaro. Good riddance.

The following Summer, I finally got HRT. I remember the day I got it. Some tiny little pill bottles. I was practically vibrating in excitement. It still makes me super happy to think about.

And then… you know what, can I not talk about the school year after that?

No?

Well fuck you then.

Here goes nothing.

So, looking back, my grade eight school year was actually… fine. It was alright. The school was accepting of me being trans. The teachers all kept it a secret from the student body - or tried to. They found out anyway and bullied me for it. It’s still a little crazy to me how the teachers would actually take my side sometimes.

So you may think, ‘oh, Atty, that doesn’t sound so bad. What could possibly have happened to make this the worst school year you ever had?’

Are you really going to make me tell you?

Fine, I’ll tell.

Near the end of the year, I was experiencing some period symptoms for the first time. As a result, I was a bit cranky. I snapped at a teacher when he called on me, and got given detention for after school that day.

What happened during that detention? Guess, motherfucker. Guess what this teacher did alone with a 14 year old girl.

He never got fired for it anyway. I tried to tell the principal, but they were best buddies, so rather than anything actually happening, I got expelled to protect the teacher’s reputation. We tried to go to the cops, but they just dismissed us. Bastards.

This event really fucked my mental health, but the effect it had on my mom… it scared her. A lot. The look on her face when she came to pick me up that day… I can never forget it. She just knew what had happened.

Raising me stressed her out a lot. There had been multiple times where I’d considered killing myself because then she wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore. But I knew that would hurt her even more, so I never did. Those episodes were almost an everyday occurrence during the summer after… well, you know.

Normally, my mom would have picked me up at the bus station herself in her beat up old Ford she got from a used car lot a year after Gabe left, but her job had scheduled her for a shift, and she hadn’t been able to get anyone to cover it for her. Unfortunate, but I had enough money in my bank account to pay for the taxi ride.

After ignoring the creepy looks the driver kept sending me through his rearview mirror for the entire drive, he dropped me off at the front doors to my building. I paid and grabbed my suitcase from the trunk, and he sped off.

We hadn’t moved since Gabe left us. Not enough money, after all. I had long since managed to stop the flashbacks to that time where I hid in the bathroom, so it wasn’t that bad, and Gabe’s smell had long since been exorcized from the apartment. I unlocked the door with my key and made my way to my bedroom. I left my suitcase at the foot of my bed, before flopping down. I stared at the ceiling.

Two more school years after this. If I was lucky, afterwards I could maybe get into college! I wondered where I’d be after this. Somewhere affirming or somewhere not so affirming? I preferred the former, but that wasn’t nearly as common as the latter, and definitely not as common as a school that just didn’t care either way. I pulled my cracked phone out of my pocket, opening up my music app to play something. All the songs on here had been torrent, of course. We couldn’t afford to actually buy music. I hit the shuffle button. “Mobile” by Avril Lavigne started playing. I started singing along to the lyrics. My voice had never deepened much, so I had never had to voice train. I loved the sound of my voice so much.

I continued lying on my bed, singing along to whatever songs played. I had just finished up “Anything but Ordinary”

, also by Avril Lavigne when there was a knock on my door. “Atty?” my mom’s voice said.

I paused my music before the next song could start, and got up off my bed. I opened the door.

I knew my mom probably had gotten home mid song, but she tended to let me finish singing before interrupting me. She really liked listening to me sing.

“Hey, mom,” I said, before she pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around her right back.

“Oh, Atty, I missed you. How have you been? How were exams?”

“I’m fine, mom. Other than the whole ‘getting expelled’ thing.”

Except I wasn’t. Not exactly. The whole Mrs. Dodds thing was still eating me up inside on occasion, but I had no idea how to bring it up to her without sounding completely insane. So I didn’t. I probably should have.

We sat on my bed and continued catching up. She was still wearing her work uniform, from the candy shop in Grand Central, and she pulled a bag of free samples out of her pocket.

It was good, and the food was all blue. There’s a good story behind it. My mom and Gabe had had some big argument years ago, I barely remember it, but, as a result, my mom went out of her way to make blue food. After I had come out, my mom had made a joke that she should switch to pink food since I’m a girl now, but I just responded that I had always been a girl, really, and that the blue food was special. She said I was absolutely right. It is special.

Today she had brought home some blueberry sour candies, so as I munched on those, she asked more questions about my school year.

During a pause in conversation, my mom gave me a little smirk. “I have a surprise for you, Atty.”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“We’re going to Montauk!”

I paused in moving a piece of candy to my mouth. “Really?”

We hadn’t been back to Montauk in years. Initially it had been Gabe being stingy with money, but after he’d left, a lot of money had gone towards paying for my HRT.

“Yeah. I put in some overtime over the past year, and managed to save up enough to rent the cabin for a week.”

“That’s- That’s awesome, mom!” It really was. I hadn’t seen that beach since before I even knew I was a girl! “When do we leave?”

“I’m going to take a shower first, then we can leave. I already packed this morning.”

---

During the drive to Montauk, I continued chatting with my mom about the less weird parts of the school year - the awkward tension that existed with my roommate, my friendship with Grover, how much I had enjoyed Latin class, et cetera.

Soon, we arrived at the cabin - same one as always. It was rundown, with faded curtains, sand constantly getting everywhere, spiders making their homes in the cupboards.

I loved the place. Objectively, it was a dump. But to me, this had always been a safe-haven. A second home, almost. A place where my mom and I could go to put aside our worries, even if just for a weekend.

As we got closer, my mom seemed to visibly grow younger. Sure we’d have to deal with a whole mess of responsibilities when we got back - mom’s job, my blood work, finding a new school for next year - but for the next few days, we’d have nothing but the cabin and the beach.

Once we reached the cabin, we set about cleaning up. Afterwards, we went for a walk on the beach, feeding some blue tortilla chips - custom made by my mom sometime in the past few days - to the seagulls. Once it got dark, we set up a campfire and roasted marshmallows. My mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died, and about the novels she wanted to write. She hoped to one day write a story about a trans girl, just like me, going on a grand adventure to save the world. I thought it was sweet.

Eventually, I worked up enough courage to ask my mom about what was always on my mind whenever we came to Montauk - my father.

My mom got a sad smile on her face, as she always did. I figured she would tell me what she always told me, but I never tired of hearing it. Plus, it had been years since I’d heard it.

“He was kind, Atty,” she began. “Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle too. Like the sea. You have his hair, you know. And his eyes.”

“And your wit,” I replied.

She laughed. “That you do.” She fished a blue jelly bean out of the bag of candy we had with us. “I wish he could have seen you, Atty. Like this. As the real you. He would be so proud.”

I wondered what there really was to be proud of with me. Sure, I guess coming out as trans was sorta brave, but other than that? A hyperactive girl with dyslexia and ADHD, a D+ average at best, kicked out of yet another school.

“How old was I?” I asked. “When he left.”

My mom was silent as she watched the flames. They were starting to die down a bit. “He was only with me for the Summer, Atty. Right here. This beach. This very cabin, even.”

“But… he knew me as a baby, didn’t he?”

My mom shook her head. “No, sweetheart. He knew I was expecting, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born.”

That didn’t fully square with what I remembered - my father, smiling warmly at me. The faintest hint of a memory. Had that been imagined?

I had always assumed he’d stayed for a bit after I was born, or at least had met me. Something told me that it must be true. But now, being told that he hadn’t even seen me once…

I felt a little angry. Not that much, after sixteen years, I’d mostly made my peace with never getting to know him. I still resented him, sure. For going on that stupid voyage and never coming back. For not actually marrying my mom and leaving us with stinking Gabe.

“Are you going to send me away again?” I asked. “Another boarding school.”

My mom pulled a marshmallow from the fire, blowing out the flames on it.

“I… I don’t know, sweetheart,” she said.

“I… I think we’ll have to think of something.”

“Because you don’t want me around?” I regretted the words almost immediately after they came out. Stupid, impulsive girl!

My mom teared up. “Oh, no, sweetheart. It’s… it’s for your own good. I have to. I have to send you away.”

“Because I’m not normal.”

My mom looked down at the sand. “You say that like that’s a bad thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

My mom shook her head. “You don’t realize just how special you really are, Atty. How important.” She took a shaky breath. “I thought Yancy would be far enough. Thought you’d be safe.”

What?

“Safe… Safe from what?”

She met my eyes, and I suddenly remembered a few things. Weird incidents from my younger years, many of which I’d tried hard to forget.

In eighth grade, during a game of dodgeball, I’d suddenly felt extremely woosy. My mom had to come pick me up and take me to the hospital. Turned out that nothing had been wrong, but it had freaked my mom out a lot.

In third grade, one day, on the playground, I’d been stalked by a big guy in a trench coat. He only left me alone when the teachers had threatened to call the police.

Even earlier, in preschool, a teacher had somehow managed to put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had been hiding in. Fortunately for me, I’d somehow managed to strangle it to death. It still freaked my mom out, and I’d had to move.

Something weird always seemed to happen to me, every year. Not just the more mundane things (if you could call the event from two years ago mundane), but stranger, more inexplicable things.

I knew I should tell my mom about Mrs. Dodds or the old ladies, but I couldn’t make myself say the words. A part of me was scared that the news would cut our trip rather short. I definitely didn’t want that.

“I’ve tried to keep you as close as I could,” my mom said. “They told me that it was a mistake. But there’s only one other option. The place your father wanted you to go. And… I just couldn’t stand to send you there.”

“Why? Is it an all boys school?”

“Not a school, sweetheart - a summer camp.”

Huh?

That was odd. Why would my dad, who’d never been around to see me even once, have talked to my mom about, of all things, a summer camp? And why hadn’t she ever mentioned it before?

“I-I’m sorry, Atty,” she said, seeing the look in my eyes. “But, I can’t talk about it. I-I couldn’t send you there. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good.”

“For good? Mom, but if it’s only a summer camp…”

She turned towards the fire, and I knew that if I continued pressing her, she’d start to cry.

---

That night, I had a strange yet very vivid dream. It was storming out on the beach, and two beautiful animals - a white horse and a golden eagle - were attempting to kill each other out on the sand.

The eagle slashed at the horse’s muzzle with it’s sharp talons, the horse kicking its hind legs at the eagle’s wings. The ground rumbled, and a deep, monstrous voice echoed from below, goading the animals on, telling them to fight harder.

I ran towards the animals, knowing I had to stop them, but I was running in slow motion. I’d never make it.

I woke up with a start.

It really was storming outside. It was the kind of storm the blows over trees and houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, no booming voice, just the lightning, lighting up the view out the cabin windows. Massive waves pounded against the dunes.

With the next crash of thunder, my mom woke up. She sat straight up, her eyes wide. “Hurricane!”

That was crazy, Long Island didn’t see hurricanes this early in the summer. But try telling the ocean that. You would never be overheard over the roaring of the wind.

And yet, strangely, there was something - a distant bellow - an angry, tortured sound that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

Then there was a closer noise. Muffled impacts, as if someone were smacking the sandy ground with a hammer. There was a desperate voice. Someone was yelling. And finally, a pounding on our front door.

My mom was up and out of bed, rushing for the door. She threw it open.

There, standing in the doorway, was Grover. But… he wasn’t exactly the Grover I knew. My brain struggled to make sense of what I was seeing.

“I’ve been searching all night!” he gasped. “What were you thinking, Atty?”

My mother looked towards me, a terrified look on her face. She wasn’t scared of Grover, but of why he’d come.

“Atty,” she shouted. “What happened at school? What did you not tell me?”

I made no attempt to answer. I was too busy staring at Grover, struggling to comprehend what my eyes were seeing.

“O Zeu kai alloi theoi!” Grover yelled. “It’s right behind me. Didn’t you tell her?”

I was too shocked to register he’d just cursed in Ancient Greek, or that I understood perfectly. On a similar vein, I wasn’t even wondering how Grover had gotten all the way out here in the middle of the night. Because Grover wasn’t wearing pants. And where his legs… where his legs should be…

My mom looked at me, a stern look in her eyes, and spoke in a tone she’d never used before. “Atalanta, tell me now!”

I stammered something out about Mrs. Dodds and the fruit stand. My mom stared at me, her face going pale, the lightning casting ominous shadows across it.

She grabbed her purse, tossed my rain jacket towards me. “Get to the car, both of you, right now!”

Grover ran for the Ford, but he wasn’t running. Not exactly. He was trotting, shaky shaggy hindquarters, and now, his story about the weird muscular disease in his legs made so much sense. I finally understood how he could run so fast but walk with a limp.

Because, instead of normal, human feet, Grover instead had a pair of hooves.