Camp Half-Blood had its hierarchy. Everyone knew it — the golden trio at the top: Annabeth Chase, the strategist; Percy Jackson, the hero; and Grover, who always believed the best in everyone.

But then she arrived — all green eyes and polished confidence, the kind of person who could make a compliment sound like a crown and an insult sound like a joke. And right behind her, like a shadow with a nervous smile, came you.

Annabeth didn’t mind either of you at first. You were friendly enough, always laughing a little too quickly, always trying to keep up. She thought you were harmless.

Then, little things started changing. Her name would come up in conversations and people would giggle. Someone would whisper, “Annabeth Chase is so full of herself,” and she’d catch the way your eyes darted away, guilty and bright.

You never said anything cruel. You didn’t have to. You just stood beside the girl who did. When she joked, you laughed. When she hinted, you filled the silence. When she smiled at Annabeth across the fire like she’d already won, you looked down.

By the time Annabeth noticed, the damage was done. She wasn’t the golden girl anymore — she was the “try-hard,” the “teacher’s pet,” the one everyone rolled their eyes at when she spoke up in meetings.

And when Chiron called for quiet, his voice echoing across the amphitheater, she caught sight of you sitting beside her — the queen of Camp Half-Blood — smiling like you were both in on the same secret.

You didn’t meet her gaze this time. But your hand fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, and for just a second, Annabeth saw it — the flicker of doubt.

Not victory. Not cruelty. Just someone who wasn’t brave enough to walk away.

And somehow, that hurt worse.

Anyway.. after that, everyone was sitting around the campfire, you giggling at your ‘leaders’ words, trying not to look at Annabeth as people shot her disgusted looks and sympathetic looks to Percy who sat next to her, who Annabeth was praying hadn’t heard the rumour’s yet.