Chapter 1: The Nerd
At exactly four in the morning, Max opened his eyes. For a few seconds, he simply stared at the ceiling, his vision blurred with sleep. The room was still dark, the only light coming faintly through the curtains.
He blinked slowly.
His auburn-brown hair was tousled by sleep, strands falling messily across his forehead. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand and slipped them onto his face, and the world gradually snapped into focus, his baby-blue eyes reflecting the dim light of the room.
Max sat up.
He didn’t feel rested.
He rarely did.
Still, he pushed the blankets aside and planted his feet on the cold floor. Four in the morning, same time as yesterday. Same time as tomorrow.
For a moment, he sat there with his hands resting loosely in his lap, staring down at the floor.
Everything felt heavy.
But eventually Max exhaled and stood. He shuffled toward the window and pulled the curtains open. Outside, the world was still asleep.
No sunlight yet. No noise. No voices.
Just the quiet darkness before dawn.
Max rested his forehead against the cool glass.
“...At least I got to see another morning.” He muttered.
It wasn’t much.
But it was something.
He straightened his glasses, pushed his messy hair away from his eyes, and gave himself a small, tired smile.
Then turned towards the kitchen.
There was still a whole day ahead of him.
Maybe today will be different.
Max made his way to the kitchen, half asleep. The house was silent
He switched on the light and immediately squinted at the sudden brightness. His glasses had fogged slightly from the warmth of the room. He pushed his glasses higher on his nose and rubbed at one of the lenses with the hem of his shirt.
Tea first. Tea was safe. At least tea never tried to kill him.
Max filled the kettle and set it down carefully. He stared at it for a moment.
Then looked at the toaster sitting on the counter. His eyes narrowed, “No.” He mumbled. The toaster remained where it was, innocent and completely unaware of the distrust directed to it. Max still remembered the last incident…
The smoke. The smell of burning bread. The frantic attempt to unplug it.
And somehow, the bread had still ended up burnt on the outside and completely cold in the middle.
He had decided that morning that the toaster and he needed some time apart. So instead, Max took two slices of bread and a butter knife.
This couldn’t possibly go wrong.
Probably…
He spread the butter over the bread with painstaking concentration, occasionally scraping off too much and trying to redistribute it. Once he was satisfied, he placed the slices neatly onto the plate.
A small victory!
No fire. No smoke. No emergency.
Perfect!
The kettle clicked.
Max poured the hot water into his mug, added his tea bag, and watched the colour slowly spread through the water.
He carried everything to the table, his glasses slipped slightly down his nose as he sat down, and he pushed them back into place before reaching for the book he’d left there the night before.
The book was thick enough to keep him occupied for a while.
Max opened it.
The first few pages were difficult to focus on. His eyes kept drifting toward the window, where the sky was still dark.
Four twenty-three (4:23 AM).
Everyone else was asleep.
He turned another page. Then another.
Eventually, the words began to settle into his mind.
The tea warmed his hands. The buttered toast was surprisingly edible. And the quiet didn’t feel quite as heavy anymore.
Max leaned back into his chair, his hair falling into his eyes as he read.
For once, he wasn’t thinking about yesterday. He wasn’t worrying about tomorrow. He was simply there. Reading and drinking tea, waiting for the sun to rise.
By four fourty-five (4:45 AM), he’d gotten through several chapters.
And by four fifty (4:50 AM), Max finally closed the book.
He still had plenty of time before he needed to leave. Max carried his mug to the sink and rinsed it out before heading upstairs to shower. The shower took about ten minutes.
By five five (5:05 AM), Max was standing in front of his closet, drying his hair with a towel.
He didn’t need to think very hard about what to wear.
His usual purple Camp Jupiter shirt. Grey pants. His worn-out black shoes. And his brown satchel.
He slung the satchel over his shoulders and checked it out of habit.
Books. Pens. His camera. A few supplies. Everything he needed.
The satchel was decorated with several pins:
A blue star, a few other little decorations, and a small transgender pin nestled among them.
Max adjusted the pin when he noticed it was crooked.
Then he zipped the satchel shut.
By five fifteen (5:15 AM), he was downstairs again.
The house was still completely silent. His parents hadn’t woken up.
Max walked into the kitchen and grabbed a small piece of paper and a pen.
He wrote:
“I’m walking to Camp Jupiter.
I’ll be there early.
Don’t worry about me, I’ll come home later.
– Max”
He stuck the note onto the refrigerator with a magnet, pressing down on the corners of the paper to make sure it wouldn’t fall.
Five twenty (5:20 AM)
Max looked at the clock, he still had time.
He slipped his satchel properly over his shoulders, checked everything inside again, and quietly made his way to the front door.
Before leaving, he glanced back at the sleeping house.
Everything was peaceful. His note was on the refrigerator. His parents would know where he was when they woke up.
That was enough.
Max gently opened the door.
The sky outside was still dark, the first hints of dawn almost nowhere to be seen.
He stepped outside and pulled the dore shut behind him.
Then began to walk toward Camp Jupiter.
It was only five twenty (5:20 AM) in the morning.
He had been awake for an hour and twenty minutes. And somehow, Max already felt like he’d live through an entire day.
Still, he kept walking. One foot after another.
Towards the Camp.
