THREE OLD LADIES KNIT THE SOCKS OF DEATH

Pillar's POV

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This twenty-four/seven hallucination was more than I could handle. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of trick on me. The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr—a perky blond woman whom I'd never seen in my life until 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 trip them up, but they would stare at me like I was psycho.

It got so I almost believed them—Mrs. Dodds had never existed.

Almost.

But Grover couldn't fool me. When I mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. But I knew he was lying and Percy knew he was lying.

Something was going on. Something had happened at the museum. There was no way something that didn't exist leave holes in my shirt. It just wasn't possible.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds with talons and leathery wings would wake me up in a cold sweat.

Percy's demeonor completely changed. He was always infuriated and hard to please. He would barley even talk to Grover and I which had to say something, because we were the only people Percy actually talked to.

The freak weather continued, which didn't help his mood. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room and everyone knows my huge fear of thunderstorms. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time as well. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs. I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her friends. I was sent out into the hallway in almost every class.

Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, Percy snapped at him for being so pushy on us all the time. He called him an old sot. I wasn't even sure what it meant, but it sounded good.

Apparently, the headmaster thought so too. He sent my mom a letter the following week, making it official: Percy and I would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine.

I was homesick.

I wanted to be with my mom in our little apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious stepfather and his stupid poker parties.

And yet... there were things I'd miss at Yancy. The view of the woods out my dorm window, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine trees. I'd miss Lacey, one of the very few girls at Yancy that I could actually tolerate long enough to be considered a friend. I'd miss Grover who was alawys helpful when Percy and I got into trouble, even if it meant he got in trouble as well.

I'd miss Latin class, too—Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith that I could do well.

As exam week got closer, Latin was the only test I studied for. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why, but I'd started to believe him.

The evening before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Forget it.

"Wow, Pillar. Someone's dyslexia is acting up." Lacey chuckled, looking over at me from her laptop.

I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt. "I just don't know what to do, Lace. I can't read, I can't write, I can't pay attention, I can't sit still. I'm not qualified to be a student."

Lacey laughed and rolled over to me in her desktop chair. "What class are you studying, hun?"

"Latin."

"Then ask Mr. Brunner for help. You are Percy are like, his favorite students."

I scoffed when I heard her say that.

I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. I will accept only the best from you, Jackson's.

Well apparently, my best isn't good enough for you.

I took a deep breath. I picked up the mythology book.

I'd never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. Maybe Lacey's advice wasn't that bad. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn't want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn't tried.

"Alright. I'll see you later, Lace."

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor.

I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said "... worried about the twins, sir."

I froze.

I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking about you and your brother to an adult. It simply isn't possible.

I inched closer.

"... 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 them," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the children to mature more."

"But they may not have time. The summer solstice deadline— "

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

"Sir, he saw her. They both saw her..."

"Their imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince the Jackson's 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 was. Now let's just worry about keeping Percy and Pillar alive until next fall—"

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

My heart hammering, I picked up the book and backed down the hall.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archer's bow.

I opened the nearest door and slipped inside.

A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, then moved on.

A bead of sweat trickled down my neck.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn ..."

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

"Don't remind me."

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner's office.

I waited in the dark for what seemed like forever.

Finally, I slipped out into the hallway and made my way back the stairs. I turned left, instead of right, headed towards the boys' wing.

Grover was lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he'd been there all night.

Percy was lying on the floor, holding a textbook above his head as he tried to decipher the words.

Grover turned to me when he saw me enter. "Hey," he said, bleary-eyed. "You going to be ready for this test?"

I didn't answer.

At the sudden conversation, Percy rolled over to face me, abandoning his textbook on the carpet beside him.

"You look awful." He frowned. "Is everything okay?"

"Just... tired. Grover, could you step out for a second. I really need to talk to Percy.

Grover nodded and left the room. I waited until I heard a satisfying click to start talking.

"Percy, Grover is lying. Mr. Brunner is too. Something did happen at the museum. We weren't imagining things."

Percy abruptly sat up. "What do you mean they are lying? How do you know?"

"I mean they are lying, Percy. Keep up. I was studying for Latin, or trying to, and I couldn't read, because, you know, dyslexia-"

"Get to the point Pillar."

"Grover was talking to Mr. Brunner about us. He said something about us seeing a Kindly One and somethings about the summer solstice being resolved without us. They were talking about us, Percy. They were talking about Mrs. Dodds."

Percy stared at me, sitting cross-legged on the carpet. "And Grover told you this?"

"No, stupid! I was eavesdropping on accident."

"You can't eavesdrop on accident, Pill.

"Hush up. Just, don't tell Grover. I want to hear it from him, and I'm sure you do too."

"Do you honestly think I'm that stupid to-. You know what, don't answer that. I won't. You should go back to your dorm, though. It's getting late, Pillar. We all know how you are when you're tired."

I nod and walk out the room, watching Grover as he goes back in.

Why won't he just tell us the truth?

"There you are! I was beginning to think you got lost." Lacey smiled, as I walked towards my dresser.

"Nah. I went to go talk to my brother." I sniffed.

"Oh? Is everything okay?"

I turned so she can't read my expression, and started getting ready for bed.

"Yeah." I mutter. "Everything is great."

I didn't understand what I'd heard downstairs. I wanted to believe I'd imagined the whole thing.

But one thing was clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were talking about Percy and I behind our back. They thought we were in some kind of danger.

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside.

As an instinct, Percy followed. We always assumed that when one of us is called, the both of us need to go. That's usually the case.

For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Jackson twins," he said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's ... it's for the best."

His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Nancy Bobofit smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips.

I mumbled, "Okay, sir."

"I mean ..." Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time."

My eyes stung. I stepped back, reaching for Percy's hand. I grasped it tightly, and he squeezed back.

Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn't handle it. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out.

"Right," Percy nodded, sarcastically.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say ... you're not normal. That's nothing to be—"

"Thanks," He interupted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for reminding me."

"Percy—"

But he was already gone, dragging me along beside him.

I shoved my clothes into my suitcase.

"Aww, hun, what happened?" Lacey asked, walking over to me.

She and her friends were packing for the summer, while discussing where they were going to go.

"Nothing." I grumbled.

She sighed and went back to packing. Lacey knew better than to talk to me while I was in one of my moods.

"I'm going to spend a month in Rome with my cousin." Said on of the girls lounging in the dorm.

"I'm going to Spain for study abroad, summer school."

"I'm going to London with my parents for a while." Lacey smiled, flicking golden hair over her shoulder.

I sighed, thinking about how I compared to these girls. They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were rich juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, or ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody, from a family of nobodies.

"What are you doing this summer, Pillar?"

"I'm going home with my brother to spend some time with my mom."

What I didn't tell them was that I'd have to get a summer job walking dogs or selling magazine subscriptions, and spend my free time worrying about where I'd go to school in the fall.

They blinked at me aand turned away, going back to their conversation as if I'd never existed.

The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. He'd booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as Percy and I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.

Finally I couldn't stand it anymore.

I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

Percy glared at me for mentioning exactly what we said we weren't going the mention.

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha—what do you mean?"

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

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

"Oh ... not much. What's the summer solstice dead-line?"

He winced. "Look, Pillar...I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers ..."

"Grover—"

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

"Grover, you're a really, really bad liar." Percy smirked.

His ears turned pink.

From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer." He gave one to each of us.

The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like:

Grover Underwood

Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

"What's Half—"

"Don't say it aloud!" he yelped. "That's my, um ... summer address."

My heart sank. Grover had a summer home. I'd never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy.

"Okay," I said glumly. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion."

He nodded. "Or ... or if you need me."

"Why would I need you?"

It came out harsher than I meant it to.

Grover blushed right down to his Adam's apple. "Look, Pillar, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you guys."

I stared at him.

Percy gaped at him. "What are you talking about protect us. Last time I checked, we are the ones protecting you!"

All year long, we've gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I'd lost sleep worrying that he'd get beaten up next year without us, without Percy. And here he was acting like he was the one who defended us.

"Grover," I said, "what exactly are you protecting us from? You can barley protect yourself."

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. Grover, Pillar, and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road—no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really good: heaping boxes of bloodred cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks I'd ever seen.

I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right at Percy and I.

I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.

"Grover?" I said. "Are you-"

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

"Yeah. They're looking straight at Percy and I. Why? Do you have a fear of old ladies knitting giant socks?"

"Not funny, Pillar. Not funny at all."

Percy was being unusually quiet next to me. I could feel his presence as he stepped closer to Grover and I. "Pillar?"

"Hm?" I hummed, looking at him.

Percy stared at the old ladies. "Remember that nagging feeling you got with Mrs. Dodds?"

"Yes, I do. Why do you ask?"

"I have that feeling, right now."

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors—gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

"We're getting on the bus," he told me. "Come on."

"What?" I said. "It's a thousand degrees in there."

"Pillar, get on the bus." Percy told me with a shaky breath.

"But it's insanely-"

"Go!"

"But-!"

"Come on!'" Grover pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching us. The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for—Sasquatch or Godzilla.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered.

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

Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I'd caught the flu.

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

"Grover?" Percy asked.

"Yeah?"

"What are you not telling us?"

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

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like ... Mrs. Dodds, are they?" Percy dismissed me from the conversation.

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He said, "Pillar, what did you see?"

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she cut the yarn." I looked between the both of them.

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was something else, something almost—older.

He said, "You saw her snip the cord."

"Yeah. So?" But even as I said it, I knew it was a big deal.

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time."

"What last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth."

"Grover," I said, because he was really starting to scare me. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me."

This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could.

"Is this like a superstition or something?" Percy asked.

"Just stop pushing him, Percy." I intercept, placing my hand on his shoulder

No answer.

"Grover—that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to die?"

"Perseus, be quiet."

He looked at him mournfully, like he was already picking the kind of flowers he would like best on his coffin.