Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.
It was miserable that night.
We decided to camp out in a marshy clearing a hundred yards from the road. The ground was dusted with hamburger wrappers and flattened soda cans, giving off a revolting stink. Mosquitoes buzzed around, attracted by the smell.
"Ugh," I said, kicking aside a muddy french-fry carton and swapping a mosquito away.
We'd taken some blankets and food from Medusa's lair, but it was a mutual agreement that a fire wouldn't be smart. After everything that had happened today, we didn't dare do anything that might attract some more monsters.
We decided to sleep in shifts. Seaweed Brain volunteered to go first, and that was fine by me. I was out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow.
My dream was relatively normal.
I was back at camp, gazing out over the canoe lake. The blue waters shimmered like gold in the low sunlight, and the comforting sound of clanging swords and shields floated out of the arena. There was laughter coming from behind me, and I turned around.
There was Luke, his golden hair even more brilliant than the lake. He was wearing a bronze breastplate and a sword was strapped to his side. He was smiling, but it seemed fake; forced.
"Why don't you join us, Annabeth?" He said, holding out his hand.
I looked behind him. "Who's the us?" I asked. "Who am I joining?"
He just smiled and held out his hand. I didn't like his smile; it was too cold, too much unlike Luke. "The winning side," He whispered. "Please, come."
"What do you mean?" I was puzzled. The winning side of what?
"Annabeth," He seemed pained. His quick change of mood startled me; I wanted to reach out and hug him, to make him feel better. "Please."
He crumpled to his knees then, and held his face in his hands. "Why won't you listen?" He wailed.
"Luke!" I sank to my knees beside him, but, just as I reached out to touch him, the dream dissipated and I awoke.
The bright sunlight was disorientating. Beside me, crumpled into a ball and snoring, was Percy. I rolled my eyes at the small puddle of drool collecting beneath his chin.
And then I heard a shrill bark.
"What was that?" I asked, mostly to myself.
"Gladiola," Grover replied oh-so-helpfully, followed by another shrill yip.
I turned around to face Grover. In his lap was a small, fluffy thing. Its fur was an unnatural pink, the color tainted by the mud and leaves stuck in its coat.
"What is that?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.
The poodle growled. "That is Gladiola, the pink poodle. He can hear you, you know. Why don't you say hello?"
"Um," I said, still drowsy. "Hello, Gladiola."
Gladiola yapped happily. "What is he doing in your lap?" I asked. "You know the we can't lug around a dog, no matter how attached—"
"I'm not bringing him with us," Grover assured me, though he looked like he wanted to. "I found him in the woods this morning when I was exploring. He says that he ran away from a rich family around here, and they posted a $200 reward for his return." Grover explained.
"That's brilliant," I exclaimed, piecing together the puzzle. "We can collect the money, buy tickets to L.A., and done."
"Yeah, and there's an Amtrack station down there," Grover pointed behind him to some train tracks that I hadn't noticed last night. "Found it this morning during my exploration trip. Gladiola says the westbound train leaves at noon."
"Awesome. We're all set."
Grover smiled and petted the poodle. I ruffled around the pile of snacks we'd stolen from Aunty Em's, and pulled out a bag of Doritos. Mm, breakfast.
Next, I took it upon myself to wake the drooling Percy. I shook his shoulder and pinched his arm, but he was still out like a rock. I was contemplating pouring a bucket of mud on his face when he groggily opened his eyes.
"Well," I said. "the zombie lives."
"How long was I asleep?" He asked.
"Long enough for me to cook breakfast," I replied, picking a bag of nacho- flavored chips out of the pile and tossing it to him. "And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend."
Percy looked over blindly, fatigue still veiling his eyes. When he seemed to focus on the little dog in Grover's lap, Gladiola yipped suspiciously.
"No, he's not." Grover spoke to the poodle.
Percy blinked. "Are you… talking to that thing?"
The poodle growled, like it—er, he—did when I referred to him as a that.
"The thing," Grover warned. "Is our ticket west. Be nice to him."
"You can talk to animals?"
Grover ignored that and moved on to introductions. "Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy."
Percy looked over at me questioningly, like he suspected this was one big practical joke. But I wasn't laughing.
"I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," He said defiantly. "Forget it."
"Percy," I said. "I said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle."
The poodle growled, baring its teeth.
Percy said hello to the poodle.
As Grover explained the whole poodle situation to Percy, I started thinking. So, if we left soon to return Gladiola, we'd get the two hundred bucks and get down to the station by mid- morning. We'd buy tickets west, and be out of here by noon. I couldn't wait to leave and get as far away as possible from the creepy Aunty Em's. The blank eyes of those poor people staring down at me still gave me chills.
"How does Gladiola know about the reward?" Percy asked once Grover was done talking.
"He read the sign," Grover said, like it should be obvious. "Duh."
"Of course," Percy muttered. "Silly me."
"So we turn in Gladiola," I said, transforming into strategy-mode. "We get money, and buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple."
"Not another bus," Percy said warily.
"No," I agreed.
I pointed downhill towards the train tracks Grover had shown me earlier.
"There's an Amtrack station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the westbound train leaves at noon."
