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Chapter 2: Three old Ladies Knit the Socks of Fate

Now, I'm used to occasional odd experiences, but usually they don't last long. This twenty four seven hallucination that Mrs. Dodds never existed, was a bit more than I could chew. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of joke on me. Everyone acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr - a perky, blonde woman whom I'd never seen in my life before she got on our bus at the end of the field-trip - had been our Pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often I would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody, just to see if I could get them to crack. They would just stare at me like I had grew another head. Every. Single. Time.

It was starting to get to me. Maybe, I was hallucinating things. Maybe Mrs. Dodds was a figment of my imagination. A nightmare dreamed up by my sub-conscious.

But Grover could never fool me. He's the worst liar I know. Whenever I mentioned Mrs. Dodds around him, he would hesitate before answering. Claiming she didn't exist.

Something was going on, and it had to do with whatever happened at the museum.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, I would have nightmares. Monsters and creatures, like Mrs. Dodds, dreamed up by my subconscious, and they were all trying to kill me.

The freaky weather continued, and worsened, almost as if it were throwing a temper tantrum. One night a thunder storm blew out the windows in the boys dorms. One of the biggest tornadoes in years touched down fifty miles from Yancy Academy, a few days later.

I started to feel more cranky and irritated. I hadn't had a fainting spell for a while. Not since the museum.

I got into more fights with Nancy and her goons. Sent out into the halls more and more. Finally, one day, when Mr. Nicoll, my English teacher, asked me why I wasn't studying for the spelling exam. For what was maybe the thousandth time. I snapped and called him an old sot.

I'm not 100% sure what that means, but something told me to say it. It was kind of like an 'if you're going to say something that will get you in trouble, say this' feeling.

A week later, the Headmaster phoned my Mom. I was officially not returning to Yancy Academy next year.

'Alright,' I told myself. 'Just fine. I never really liked it here.'

I was homesick.

Truthfully, I had liked it here. The view out my window, near the Hudson River. The smell of pine trees. Latin class (the only one I actually studied for), and Grover. Who, despite everything, was still my best friend.

The night before the final, I got so frustrated I threw my 'Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology' across my dorm room.

Not only had he words started surfing off the page, but I could just about feel another 'fainting spell' coming along.

Blinking it off, I managed to pull myself together. Picking up my textbook, I decided to do something I had never done before. I... was going to ask a teacher for help. Mr. Brunner expected so much out of me... I didn't want him to think I hadn't tried at all. At the very least, I could apologize for failing his class. Conjugating the Latin wasn't as ahrd as some of my classmates thought, but I couldn't tell the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Poly... Poly... gah! I can't even remember their names!

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. All of the rooms were dark and empty. Except for Mr. Brunner's, his door was slightly ajar, light from his window dancing across the hallway. Voices echoing from the other side.

I didn't want to interrupt, but I needed help, whoever he was talking to should be able to understand. They were probably there for the same reason.

When I was three steps from the door handle, I heard who was talking "... I'm worried about Pythia, sir."

It was Grover.

Any small, minuscule doubts I had about eavesdropping were flushed away. I inched forward, so I could here them better.

"...alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a kindly one, in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too-"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing her." Mr. Brunner said, "She needs to mature more."

"But there won't be time. The summer solstice deadline-"

"Will have to be resolved without her, Grover. Let her enjoy her ignorance while she still can."

"Sir, she saw her."

"A figure of the imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted." The mist over the students and staff will convince her of that."

"Sir, I... I can't fail in my duties again." Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean."

"You haven't failed Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she really was. Noe, let's just worry about making sure Pythia stays alive. Come it's time for us to sleep. You've got a long day of exams tomorrow."

They started to move towards the door. I silently started making my way back to my dorm. For a brief moment, a shadow slide across the lit glass of Mr. Brunner's office door. A shadow of something much taller than Grover or my wheel-chair bound teacher.

When I reached my dorm room, I could feel the black-out coming, stronger than before. It was a good thing my dorm room buddy, Sarah, was such a heavy-sleeper. I didn't need to worry about her waking up.

Not bothering to change my clothes, I laid down on my bed. My head hurt too much to bother changing them. It was a good thing too, because just as I did, I was out like a broken light bulb.

The next day, as I was leaving after finishing my three... hour...long...Latin exam. Mr. Brunner called my name. "Yes, sir?" I said he didn't see me last night. At least, I don't think he did. So what was this about?

"Pythia," He said kindly. "Don't be sad about leaving Yancy. It's... for the best." He probably didn't mean for it too come out like that, but it still embarrassed me. As quietly as he tried to speak, all the kids still taking their tests could hear. Nancy looked at me, then started making little kissy faces with her mouth. I just glared back at her.

"I didn't mean it like that. Pythia... this isn't the right place for you-"

"I get it Mr. Brunner," I stared at him straight in the eyes. " I know what you mean. I've never fit in at any of the schools I went to. With my record..." I looked out the window, thinking about when I was younger. "With my record, it was only a matter of time. At least I made it the school year. I've done worse before." I turned around and left.

It was the last day of term, as I was packing my clothes, I could hear the other girls in the hall. They were all chatting about where they were going on vacation. One of them was going to Switzerland, with her brother. Another to London, England, to visit some Great-Aunt's mansion in the country-side.

There was a big difference of them and myself. Everyone at this school was a troubled, or troublesome, kid. They were all rich, I, was not. When they asked what I was doing, I told them I was going back home, to the city.

I didn't tell them I had to get a summer job walking dogs, or babysitting. All the while worrying about where I was going to school in the fall.

"That's nice." One of the girls, Meagan I think, said.

They all went back to their conversation, as if I'd never existed.

The only person I was dreading saying good-bye too, was Grover.

It turned out, I didn't have to. He had booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same bus I had. I was kind of excited, now I actually had someone to talk to on the ride home.

During the ride back, Grover kept on looking around at the other passengers. I don't know why I hadn't noticed it before, maybe I was just more suspicious of Grover since the incident a few nights ago? Anyway, it was something he did whenever we left Yancy Academy. I thought he was just nervous about being teased. Now though? I didn't know quite what to think.

Eventually, I had enough.

"Looking for kindly ones?"

Grover jumped so high he nearly hit the roof. "W-what do you mean?"

I wanted answers, not more questions. So I told him about the night I had overheard him And Mr. Brunner talking.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you overhear?"

"Maybe a minute or so, what's the summer solstice deadline?" I gave him a pointed look.

He winced. "Pythia... I was just worried about you. Daydreaming about demonic math teachers..."

"Grover-"

"I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were over-stressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and..."

I looked at him blankly. "Grover, I know that you're lying."

His ears turned pink.

He fumbled with his shirt pocket, before fishing out a grubby business card. "Take this, in case you need me this summer."

The card was in a fancy script, which was torture on my dyslexic eyes.

Finally, I managed to read:

Grover Underwood

Keeper

Half-blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

I was confused.

"What's Half-"

"Don't say it out-loud!" He yelped, hand covering my mouth. "That's my... um... summer address."

I don't know why, but that made me sad. I'd never realized that Grover may be as rich as the other kids.

"Alright," I turned away. "So I can come hang-out at your mansion."

"No, Pythia - just in-in case you need me."

"What do you mean?"

Grover looked really nervous. "Pythia... the truth is, I-I kind of have to protect you."

I raised an eyebrow.

All year long, I had gotten into fights over kids picking on him. Worried that he was getting wedgied when I was gone. Yet, he was supposed to protect me? From what?

Monsters like Mrs. Dodds?

The image of Grover battling Mrs. Dodds was kind of amusing. I could imagine her saying 'Die honey!' and him jerking around, looking for the 'honey'.

I shook my head, I had to stay focused. I had to ask him what he had meant.

Before I could, the bus shuttered, and black smoke came rising out from the dashboard. The smell of rotting eggs trailing right behind it. The driver cursed, bringing the bus to a stop at the side of the road.

After a few minutes, he announced that we'd have to get off. Whatever clanking around he had done in the engine compartment hadn't worked.

We were on a stretch of country road - somewhere you wouldn't think twice about. On one side of us were maple trees, lots of them, and litter from passing cars. Grover didn't look happy about it.

Across the four-lanes of traffic, was an old-fashioned fruit stand, simmering in the afternoon heat.

The fruit looked really good too: heaping boxes of blood-red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots. To the side were large jugs of cider, surrounded by ice.

No customers were there, just three old ladies, knitting a pair of giant socks. Seriously, these socks looked like they could swallow one of them whole and still have room inside. They were all ancient-looking. They had the same look in their eyes as Mr. Brunner did sometimes. Like they had seen the world change, empires fall and grow, multiple times. The two on the outside were both knitting, the one in the middle was holding a massive ball of electric-blue yarn.

They were all staring at me. I turned towards Grover, he was sweating waves, pale as a sheet, and His nose was twitching.

"Grover what-"

"Tell me they aren't looking at you. They are, aren't they?"

"I wonder who they're knitting those for, Sasquatch or Godzilla."

"Not funny Pythia, not funny at all." I heard Grover catch his breath.

As the old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors - gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. Suddenly, I felt dizzy.

'No, not now,' I thought. 'Not in front of all these people.' Somebody was listening, apparently, because the dizziness stopped as soon as it had started.

Across the road, the old ladies smiled.

"Come on," Grover said. "We're getting on the bus."

"What?" I said. "It's steaming in there!"

"Come on!" He pried the doors open and climbed inside, but I stayed back.

Across the road, the old ladies still had their watchful gaze on me.

The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear you could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her sisters balled up the electric blue socks.

Bang!

My head whipped towards the source of the noise. The driver had just wrenched a big chunk of metal out of the engine compartment. The engine roared back to life as the bus shuddered.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" The bus driver yelled. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Every body back on board!"

Once we got going, I started to feel dizzy again. Not 'fainting spell' dizzy, but 'I got caught in a whirlpool' dizzy.

Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

"Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"What is it you're not telling me?"

He dabbed his forehead with his sleeve. "Pythia, what did you see at the fruit stand?"

"Three old ladies, two of them were knitting socks. Then, the third one took out her shears and snipped the yarns' cord."

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might have been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was different... older.

He turned to look me in the eyes. "You saw her snip the cord."

"It was pretty easy to see."

"This is not happening." Grover mumbled, turning away. He started gnawing at his thumb. "Please, don't let this be like last time."

"Grover?"

"Always sixth grade. They never make it past sixth."

"Grover," Just what was going on? "What's going on?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station, promise me."

He looked back at me, sad, desperate, like he knew what was going on and didn't want to accept it. That whatever was going to happen was inevitable.

And he knew it.

So I promised him.

"Grover, that snipping of the yarn... Does that mean someone's going to die?"

He wouldn't look at me.

"Grover, I'm not going to die."

He didn't seem to believe me.