Chapter 2

Three Old Ladies Knit The Socks Of Death

[Percy]

We were used to the occasional weird, or even freaky, experiences, but usually, they pass over quickly. This twenty-four/seven hallucination was more than Aaron and I could handle. for the rest of the school year, the entire school seemed to be messing with us. The students acted, without hesitation, as if this perky blond woman, Mrs. Kerr, was our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often, my brother or I would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on some unexpected kid, but they always looked at us like we were psycho's

It got to the point were they almost had us convinced that Mrs. Dodds never existed and it had been Mrs. Kerr the whole time, and we just had some problems . . . well, more problems with our heads.

As I said, Almost.

Grover didn't fool us at all. Whenever my brother or I mentioned the name, Mrs. Dodds, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. Aaron and I both knew he was lying to us.

Something was going on, and no-one was telling us what, which left us wondering what really happened at the museum that day.

we Didn't have that much time to think about it during the days, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds, with talons and leathery bat wings, would wake me up in a cold sweat, and my brother claims to have the same things happening to him as well. Which worried us.

The freaky weather continued to happen, which didn't help our mood, at all. One night, a thunderstorm blew the windows out of our dorm room. A few days later, one of the biggest tornado's ever seen, landed in Hudson Valley, touched down only fifty miles away from the Academy, which freaked a handful of people (including Aaron).

One of the current events that our class studied in social studies, was the unusual number of plane casualties over the Atlantic Ocean that year.

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time now, and Aaron, who was hard to anger or frustrate, had his grades slip down from C-'s to D's, and got into more fights that the headmaster had to break up. the same thing was happening to me.

Finally, Mr. Nicoll, our English teacher, had had enough and asked us why we were too lazy to study, and asked Aaron why he wasn't studying anymore. I snapped at him for talking to us like that, and called him an 'old sot'. I had no idea what even an 'old sot' was.

The headmaster sent our mother a letter, making it clear that we would not be invited back to Yancy Academy next year.

"Fine." I said to myself "Just fine."

I wanted to go home, badly. I was homesick. And I bet Aaron was a bit, too.

I wanted to be with our Mom in our small apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to suffer the torture of public school, my brother having to withstand the offensive comments about him being Different and a Freak. Even though my brother is tough, I don't think even he could withstand those comments.

And then, there was the topic of our nasty and obnoxious, walrus of a step-father and his stupid poker parties, which was pretty much every day.

And there will be things that bot my brother and I would definitely miss at Yancy. The view of the woods next to our dorm, the Hudson River way in the distance, the sweet smell of pine trees. And of course, we both would miss Grover, who'd been a good friend to both of us, even if he was a little strange at some moments, and not told the truth . . .

Anyway, we are both worried that he won't be able to survive next year without us.

And Aaron would miss Latin class, and I also would too. Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith that we both could do well in his class. which is why that is the only subject we studied for.

As our exam week got closer, we studied Latin like crazy. We didn't forget what Mr. Brunner told us about this subject being life and death for the two of us, especially after what happened at the museum.

The evening before our exams, I got so frustrated, that the words of my Latin textbook started floating off the page and treated themselves to my frustration. I threw the textbook across the room,

"Oww!" Aaron's voice sounded, from where I threw the textbook. "Can you try to look before you throw that thing?"

"Sorry." I apologised.

"It's fine, man." he said, "Just, those things hurt, especially when I was the one on the receiving end of that throw."

I laughed at that.

"Lets go ask Mr. Brunner for some hints." he suggested

"Yeah. at least we can apologise for the big F I'm going to get on his test."

Aaron ignored that comment. "Come on, lets go." he said, opening our dorm room.

I followed. My brother navigated the dark halls, until we got to where Mr. Brunner's office was.

The light was on, and I was about to head into the office , when Aaron blocked me from going in with his wing and put his finger to his lips, to say Shhh. I was about to say something, when I heard what he was listening to . . .

". . . worried about them, sir." I heard. Aaron and I stayed perfectly still, listening to what they had to say. I'm not usually one to eavesdrop, but I dare you not to listen when your best friend is talking about you and your twin brother to your teacher.

We inched closer, out of the ways of the window, in case they decided to look out of them.

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

"We would only make matters worse by rushing the two," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the twins to mature more."

"But they might not have enough time. The summer solstice dead-line . . ."

"Will have to be resolved without the twins, Grover. Let them enjoy their ignorance while they still can."

"Sir, he saw her . . ."

"Their imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the rest of the school will be enough to convince the two of that."

I really don't think so. I thought

"Sir, I . . . I can't fail my duties again," Grover's voice was nearly in tears, "You know what that would mean for me."

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said reassuringly, "I should have seen her for what she was. Now, Let's worry about keeping the twins alive until next fall . . ."

At this moment, Aaron was so shocked to be hearing this, that he didn't even realize he was holding his textbook still, until he dropped it with a loud Thud

Aaron grabbed my shirt and pulled me as fast as he could to the nearest door, which happened to be the Supplies Room

He pulled me inside and silently shut the door. We hid along the wall with the door on it, so we couldn't be seen through the window.

We heard the soft, clip clop, of . . . hooves? And saw a shadow pass by the window, which looked slightly bigger than our wheelchair bound Latin teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like a bow and arrow.

We were silent with fear.

We saw the shadow retreat from the window, and the sound of, hooves, back away from our door. I almost sighed with relief, when Aaron covered my mouth, making sure I didn't give away our spot.

"Nothing," we heard our Latin teacher murmur, "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"Mine neither." we heard Grover say. "But I could have sworn . . ."

"Go back to your dorm," Mr. Brunner told him, "You've got a long day of exam tests, tomorrow."

"Please, don't remind me."

We saw the light go off from the window of the room we were in.

We waited, silently, in the dark, for what seemed like forever.

Finally, Aaron checked the window and motioned it was clear, and we slipped out into the hallway, and navigated the dark school halls to our dorm room.

When we got back to our dorm room, Grover was lying in his bed, studying his Latin textbook, like he'd been there all night.

"Hey," he said, a little bleary-eyed. "You two ready for the test tomorrow?"

Aaron and I didn't answer him.

"You guys look awful," he said. "Are you guys okay?"

"We're just . . ."

"Tired." My brother answered for me.

I turned, so he couldn't read the expression on my face, and started getting ready for bed.

Grover was still trying to read the expression on Aaron's face, but my brother had an excellent poker-face, so Grover gave up trying after half-a-minute.

We were still couldn't comprehend what we'd heard downstairs. I wanted to believe we had imagined the whole thing. But Aaron was acting like he was thinking the same thing. Most people wouldn't know that, but being around him my entire life, considering we're family, I picked up on his body language, or it could be that we're twins.

But one thing was definitely clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were hiding something behind our backs. They thought we were in some kind of danger, which, coming from Mr. Brunner, made me worry about the possibilities.

The next afternoon, as we were leaving the three-and-a-half hour Latin class exam, my eyes were drowning in all the Latin names I'd gotten wrong or misspelled, Aaron actually did decent in the exam, though we both doubted that we made any higher than a C+. Mr. Brunner called both of us back into the class.

For a moment, I thought he found out about Aaron and I eavesdropping on his conversation the night before. But apparently, that wasn't the case.

"Percy, Aaron." He said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's . . . for your own good."

I know he was trying to pick his words carefully, but my eyes still stung from those words. Aaron's 'poker-face' was not saving some of his emotions from showing.

Nancy Bobofit and her ugly friends were silently laughing, though Mr. Brunner's full attention was on me and Aaron, so he didn't notice.

"Okay, sir." I mumbled.

"I mean . . ." Mr. Brunner said, still trying to pick his words as carefully as he could. "This isn't the right place for you two. It was only a matter of time."

At this moment, Aarons poker-face wore out, and his eyes were a bit red from holding back his emotions.

I understood. Here was our favourite teacher, in front of the whole class, telling us 'It was only a matter of time,' whatever that meant, after telling us the whole year that he believed in us. Here he was, telling us we couldn't handle Yancy, and that we were destined to get kicked out.

"Right," Aaron mumbled

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say is . . . You two aren't normal, and that, that's nothing to be . . ."

"Thanks." My brother said, losing his 'cool'. "Thanks a lot, sir, for reminding me." he said.

"Aaron . . ." Mr. Brunner started to say, but Aaron was already out the classroom door.

"You've got to realize, Mr. Brunner," I said "That he gets these comments daily." I said. "I guess, I'll go talk to him."

I left the class before he could say anything. I confess that I was mad at him, mostly for not realising what he said about Aaron. Though, I don't think he meant it like that.

Anyway, I went out into the hall to go talk to my brother, who was up against the wall with his wings wrapped around him.

He looked up at me, his eyes were red and teary with emotion.

"Hey," I said. "You feeling all right?"

He hesitated, thinking about his answer.

"Not really sure about that, bro."

"You know, Mr. Brunner really didn't mean what he said."

"Can we not talk about that right now?" he asked. "Let's just get on with our day. I'll be fine." And we left that moment alone.

On the last day of the term, I shoved all of my clothes into a suitcase, and called it a day.

All of the other guys at Yancy were joking around and talking about what they had planned for the summer. One of them was going on a long hiking trip on some mountain in Switzerland. Another guy was going on a cruise in the Caribbean for a month. They were all juvenile delinquents, like me and my brother, but they were rich juvenile delinquents. Unlike us, they actually had a father, but they were executives, or ambassadors, or famous celebrities. We were two nobodies, from a family of nobodies.

When ever we passed a group of them, they would ask us . . . well, me, because they still thought Aaron as a freak, which really pissed me off, but I tried not to show it. Though I don't know how Aaron was able to withstand so many offensive comments, or even be completely ignored by most people, but he did.

Anyway, when ever they passed us in the hall they would ask me what I was doing over the summer break, and I told them we were going back into the city.

"Oh," one of them said. "That's cool." And they went back to whatever conversation they were having before, as if I never existed.

What I didn't tell them, was that the both of us would have to get summer jobs, like walking dogs, or selling newspapers, and spend all of our free time worrying where we would go to school in the fall for our seventh year.

The only person me and Aaron were dreading saying goodbye to, was Grover, but it turned out, we didn't have to say goodbye, just yet, because he took the same Greyhound as us into Manhattan.

During the whole bus ride, Grover was constantly looking over his shoulder as if he was worried something bad might happen. It just occurred to me that he was always acting nervous and fidgety when ever we left Yancy Academy, we'd always assumed that he was afraid someone would tease or pick on him, but I didn't think a random stranger would come up to him and call him names, or anything like that. So I assumed it was something different.

Though, another strange thing that happened . . . well, more like didn't happen, was people not noticing Aarons wings, which were sticking out a bit into the Isl. But at least people weren't freaking out about him being on the bus, so I labled it as 'not important' at the moment.

Grover was still nervously looking around the bus.

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore

I said, "Looking for the 'Kindly Ones?'"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat, which startled my brother, who nearly got elbowed in the face.

"Wha . . . what do y-you mean?" he asked.

I confessed about me and Aaron eavesdropping on his conversation the night before the exams.

his eye twitched. "How much did you two hear?"

"Oh . . . not much," I lied

"What's the summer solstice deadline?" Aaron said, nearly startling him again.

Grover winced. "L-look, guys . . . I was just worried about you see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers and . . ."

"Grover . . . " My brother tried to interrupt.

". . . I was telling Mr. Brunner that, maybe you two were overstressed or something like that, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and . . ."

"Grover!" I said sternly. "You're a really, really bad liar."

His ears turned a bright pink.

He fished out a grubby business card from his shirt pocket, all the while not looking at either of us. "Just take this, okay? In case you two need me this summer."

The card print was murder for our dyslexic eyes, but Aaron made something out, which went like

Grover Underwood

Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island New York

(800) 009-0009

"What's Half . . ."

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

My heart sank like lead. Grover had a summer home. Aaron and I never considered that his family was as rich as most of the other kids at Yancy.

"Okay," Aaron almost muttered. "So, if I want to come visit your mansion."

He nodded. "O-or if you need me."

"Why would we need you?" I said. It came out a lot harsher than I had meant it to be.

Grover blushed right down to his Adam's apple. "L-look, guys, the truth is, I-I kind of have to protect you two."

Me and my brother just stared at him, with almost blank expressions.

I can't believe it. All year long, both my brother and I, had gotten into fights, keeping bullies away from him. we both lost lots of sleep that we couldn't afford to loose, worried about what would happen to him next year without us around to protect him. And here he was, turning the tables, and saying that he had to protect us.

"Grover," my brother said in an almost monotone voice, "What exactly do you need to protect us from?"

Just then, a huge grinding noise came from under our feet, and Grover covered his ears, as if it bothered him like nails on a chalkboard. The whole bus started to smell like rotten eggs. The bus driver practically limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

We had broken down on a stretch of country road, almost in the middle of nowhere on our side of the highway, there was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars who just chuck it out their windows. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt, shimmering with the afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand, and when I say old-fashioned, I mean like, the really old fruit stands.

Though, the stuff on sale looked good. Stuff I wouldn't explain because it'd make you go hungry. There were no customers, which shocked me, because, again, the stuff on sale looked really good. Just three old-ladies knitting the biggest pair of socks Aaron and I have ever seen.

They were the size of adult sweaters, but the clearly looked like socks. The old lady on the right, knitted one of the socks. The one in the middle, held a big basket full of electric-blue yarn. And the one on the right knitted the other sock

All three of them looked ancient beyond count. With pale, white faces wrinkled like raisins, silvery white hair tied back in white bandanna's, bony, wrinkled arms, with elbows that could be used to poke someone's eye out.

Though, the weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking directly at me and Aaron.

I looked over at Grover, who didn't seem 'all right' with the situation.

"Grover?" I said. "Hey . . ."

"Please tell me they're not looking at you . . ."

"They're not looking at us." My brother said sarcastically.

If it was possible, his face paled even more. "They are, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Weird. huh?" I said

"You think those socks would fit me? or I might be able to fit in them." My brother said, still trying to lighten the mood.

"Not funny, Aaron. Not funny at all." Grover said, seriously

"Aww, come one, man! Lighten up a bit . . ." I started to say.

At this moment, the old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors, gold and silver, long bladed . . . what looked like garden sheers.

I heard Grover catch his breath.

I was about to ask him what was wrong with that, but he beat me to saying anything.

"We're getting on the bus. Now." he said

"What?!" I said

"It's like, a thousand degrees in there!" Aaron protested. "No way, are we getting back on there, until it's fixed." He said firmly.

"And I'm saying. Get on the bus." He said back.

The two of us didn't budge from our spots

On the other side of the four lanes of traffic, the three old ladies were stll watching the two of us, never breaking eye contact with us, which was weird. The middle one,still holding the scissors, cut the yarn. And I swear, that I heard the snip, across the four lanes, full of cars passing by. Her two friends balled up their yarn, leaving us wondering who the socks could be made for . . . Sasquatch, or Godzilla.

At the rear and of the Greyhound, the driver ripped out a huge, smoking piece of metal and the engine roared back to life.

Everyone taking the bus cheered.

"Darn right!" yelled the bus driver. "Everyone, back on-board!"

Once we got on, and started going, I started feeling feverish, as if I'd caught the flu. And when I looked next to me, at Aaron, he was almost shivering, wrapping his wings tight around his body for warmth.

And Grover din't look any better than Aaron did. His teeth were chattering and he was shivering.

"Grover?" I asked.

"Y-yeah?"

"What are you not telling us?"

He started dabbing his forehead with his shirt-sleeve, whipping the sweat away from his brow. "What did you two see at the fruit stand?" He asked.

"You mean, the three old ladies?" Aaron asked. "They-they're not like, Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

The expression on his face said 'they're worse'. The three old ladies at the fruit stand were far, far more worse than Mrs. Dodds. "Just tell me what you saw."

"The middle one took out her scissors,"

"And she cut the yarn." We both said.

Grover closed his eyes and looked like he was crossing himself, but it looked like a much older gesture than that.

"You saw her snip the cord." he said

"Yeah so?" But as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew that it was a big deal.

"This is so, not happening," he mumbled. He started nervously picking at his fingers and shirt. "I don't want this to be like last time."

"What 'last time?'" Aaron said, looking worried, and almost scared at what Grover was saying.

"It's always sixth grade, why sixth grade? They never make it past sixth"

"Grover," I said nervously, because he was really starting to freak us out with all his muttering. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you guys home. Please, promise me."

This was a strange request, especially coming from Grover, but we promised him this.

"Grover," I said. "Is this, like, a superstition, or something?" I asked

No answer.

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

He looked at the two of us, mournfully. As if guessing what kind of flowers we would like best on our grave.