Chapter 2: Home

"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 prealgebra 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 to the point where 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" He was my best friend after all you can't hide anything from your best friend.

"Something was going on." Something had happened at the museum. "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."

"The freak weather continued, which didn't help my mood." One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. 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 class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year. I started feeling more and more restless and irritable most of the time. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs. I got into more fights with random people mostly cause they started it.

"Like I said before I got kicked out most of my schools for fighting." Half the time it was just me defending myself not that it really mattered...no one really cared. "To them, I was the freak kid that no one wanted around." To be honest I was actually a really nice guy if you actually

bothered to get to know me." I wasn't really prone to violence, but I would defend myself if the need arose. However, at the end of the week, I lost it and called my English teacher a not so pleasant name and got sent to the principles office.

The Principle sent my mom a letter the following week, making it official: 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 games.

"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 Grover, who'd been a good friend, even if he was a little strange."

"I worried how he'd survive next year without me." Though we had been friends for a long time, and he had visited him at his mom's apartment before so he could always still visit. The guy acted almost as nervous as him sometimes which was something they kind of had in common. It wasn't just Grover he'd miss though. He would also miss Mr. Brunner. The man had always had such faith in him and now he'd gone and blown it!

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 my textbook across my dorm room." "My stupid dyslexia was getting worse!" There was no way I could memorize everything and pass this stupid final!

"I give up!" He shouted as he flopped down on his bed. Suddenly he remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. "I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

The teen sighed and picked up the mythology book. I could ask for help. "I'd never asked a teacher for help before but maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers." "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." I hated disappointing people. "So 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 Percy, sir."

I froze. "I don't usually like to eavesdrop, but I was too curious to just walk away."

I inched closer."…alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Fury in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too—" "We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner said.

"We need the boy to mature more." But he may not have time. Grover argued back. "The summer solstice deadline—Will have to be resolved without him, Grover." Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can.

"Sir, he saw her.…His imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him 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 alive until next fall—"The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a loud 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.

"Panicking I opened the nearest door I could and slipped inside. "A few seconds later I heard what sound like the muffled sound of woodblocks, 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 up to the dorm. What had he walked in on? His heart was still racing he wasn't sure what to think.

When I arrived back at my dorm room Grover was lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he'd been there all night. "Hey," he said, bleary-eyed. "You going to be ready for this test?"

I didn't answer. "You look awful." He frowned. "Is everything okay?" I wasn't sure what to say. Part of me wanted to ask him about what he and Mr. Brunner had been talking about downstairs but instead, I just shrugged ."Just…tired."

I turned so he couldn't read my expression and started getting ready for bed. 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 me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger. But in danger from what?

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. 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.

"Percy," 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 every word.

I blushed somewhat embarrassed at the attention I was getting but decided to ignore it. His words however made me somewhat sad though. I was going to miss his classes if I'd ever had a favorite teacher before it would have to be him.

I mumbled, "Okay, sir." Uh, 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.

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," I said, trembling.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say…you're not normal, Percy. That's nothing to be—" "Thanks," I blurted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for reminding me." "Percy—" But I was already gone before he could say anything else.

On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase, tears streaming down my face. I still remembered Mr. Brunner's words and they stung worse than any blow he'd ever received from the many times he'd been picked on growing up.

He tried his best to contain the tears, but they kept coming. He hadn't been wrong though. Mr. Brunner was right. He wasn't normal...He was a freak! No one cared! His whole life had been disappointment after disappointment.

His own father hadn't loved him enough to even stick around. He dried his tears as he slammed his suitcase shut. However, there were two people I knew of who still cared my mom...and Grover. I was really going to miss him and dreaded saying goodbye.

But as it turned out, I didn't have to. He'd booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as 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. People always made fun of him because of his crutches sometimes calling him a cripple.

People had assumed the same thing about him before they eventually realized that he was pretty strong compared to normal kids. But there was nobody here to make fun of either of them on the Greyhound. Sure there were a few people who had stared at his strange features when he'd walked on the bus, but no one had even paid attention to Grover.

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. "Looking for Fury's?" He jumped looking extremely startled. "Wha—what do you mean?" I finally confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "H-How much did you hear?" Oh…not much. What's the summer solstice deadline? He winced. "Look, Percy…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." 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." The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out what it said.

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 knew most of the kids at my school had been rich but I never assumed Grover was-

"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, Percy, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you."

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

Sure he acted confident sometimes and made jokes, but he was secretly a nervous wreck half the time. I had to know exactly what was going on. I needed answers! I was tired of the lies I needed the truth for once. "Grover...what exactly are you protecting me from?"

Suddenly There was a loud 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 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 the 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. My stomach even growled a little bit I was kind of hungry but what I saw across the street made me change my mind.

There were no customers at the stand, 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 me!

I felt somewhat nauseous. There was something about the three old women that made me nervous they almost seemed...to be judging me as if they knew something I didn't. I was about to ask Grover about the strange old woman when I noticed that the blood had drained from his face and his nose was twitching.

"Grover?" He didn't respond his eyes wide with fear. "Hey, man are you alri-Tell me they're not looking at you." They are, aren't they? He frowned at his friend's odd behavior and shrugged. "Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?" he joked

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all." He looked at his friend confused. He didn't understand what his problem was. Sure the three old ladies were making him just as nervous, but they were just a couple of harmless old ladies. Right?

Suddenly 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," Come on. "What?" No way It's a thousand degrees in there.

"Come on!" He said franticly as he pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back. Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me. 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 I shook my head and climbed back onto the bus sitting next to Grover. A few hours later 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 other passengers outside cheered. "Darn right!" the driver yelled slapping 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. Eventually, I couldn't stand it anymore I had to know! "Grover?" Yeah? "What are you not telling me?" Grover looked away trying to avoid his best friend's gaze.

Percy felt like a mess the grey hooded sweater he was wearing was damp with sweat and his red hair was plastered to his forehead. "Percy, what...What did you see back at the fruit stand?" The deformed teen stared at his best friend puzzled.

What had he seen? "You mean the old ladies right? What is it about them, I mean They're not like…Mrs. Dodds, are they?" His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the old ladies at the fruit-stand were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds.

"Just tell me what you saw." Percy sighed. "The middle one took out her scissors, and she cut the yarn." Grover 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.

"You saw her snip the cord." The deformed teen shrugged "Yeah. So?" But even as he said it, he 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."

"Grover, what happened last time?!" What aren't you telling me?! The teen felt somewhat hurt by the fact that Grover wasn't being completely honest with him. Grover would you please just tell me what's going on!

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me." He looked at his friend confused but reluctantly agreed. Grover when that old lady snipped that yarn...Does that mean someone is going to die?! Grover didn't answer him instead he gave him a mournful look like he was already picking the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin.

Grover was silent the rest of the way back home. Alright confession time: I kinda ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal. I know, I know. It was rude. But Grover was starting to freak me out! He kept looking at me like I was a dead man, muttering "Why does this always happen to me?

I'd feel bad for him if I weren't completely freaked out. Whenever he got upset, Grover's bladder acted up, so I wasn't surprised when, as soon as we got off the bus, he made me promise to wait for him, then made a beeline for the restroom.

Instead of waiting, I got my suitcase, slipped outside, and caught the first taxi uptown. A word about my mother, before you meet her. Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the greatest person in the entire universe. Yes, that's just my opinion but she's quite literally the best!

Some people just have the worst luck and then there's my mom. Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her.

She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him.

After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma. I suppose the only good break she ever got was meeting my dad. Like I've said before I don't remember my dad, just this sort of warm glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile.

My mom doesn't like to talk about him because it makes her sad. She has no pictures either. You see...they weren't actually married. She told me he was some rich guy, and their relationship was a secret.

Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back. Lost at sea, my mom told me. Not dead. Just lost at sea. She worked odd jobs and took night classes to get her high school diploma and raised me on her own.

She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I wasn't an easy kid. Obviously. Finally she remarried. First, there was Claude you know the guy who had given me the nickname "Quasimodo." Not that I could blame him. I definitely looked it. I only read the book once a bit depressing.

I didn't remember Claude that much but after Claude, she'd remarried. The guy's name was Gabe Ugliano and at least Claude had treated his mom better and had somewhat tolerated him. Gabe however didn't care at all!

He'd been nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. Actually, jerk didn't begin to describe what he'd put both him and his mother through!

Gabe happened to a bit of an alcoholic when he was little Gabe would get so drunk that anything would set him off, and most of the time he'd unleash his drunken rage on him. He still had the bruises to prove it. One day however I'd finally stood up to him after I saw him beating my mom.

I hated the guy. No not hated loathed! I half expected my mom to kick him out, divorce him, something. But she did nothing. I had no idea why she bothered to put up with him when she could easily kick him out.

There were sometimes that I wished I could do it myself. I hated the guy more than the bullies at my school. Then again he had been the one who had forced my mom to send me away in the first place!

Not only was the guy a jerk he smelled like a dumpster! I'm not joking seriously I latterly gave the guy the nickname smelly Gabe when I was six. That just goes to show how well I get along with my idoit stepfather.

When I walked into my mom's small apartment I'd hoped my mom would be home from work instead Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blared ESPN. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet.

He had a cigar in his mouth and held some cards in his hands. "So, you're home." He said not even bothering to look up. "Where's my mom?" The teen said pulling the hood of his sweater over his face not wanting to deal with the odd stares from his stepfather's slightly drunk friends.

"Working," he said. "You got any cash?" The teen felt slightly annoyed. Typical Gabe, what did I expect." What no Welcome back. "Good to see you." How has your life been the last six months?! Of course, the jerk would ask for cash.

He noticed that Gabe had put on weight. He looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes. He had about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp as if that made him handsome or something.

He managed a rundown electronics store in queens, but he stayed home most of the time. I don't know why he hadn't been fired long before. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous, and on beer, of course.

Always beer. Whenever I was home, he expected me to provide his gambling funds. He called that our "guy secret." Meaning, if I told my mom, he would punch my lights out. Not that I was scared of him. Because I'd punch him right back given the chance and he knew how strong I was which was why he didn't mess with me too much.

"I don't have any cash," I told him. He raised a greasy eyebrow. Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which was surprising since his own smell should've covered up everything else. "You took a taxi from the bus station," he said.

"Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?" Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looked at me with a twinge of sympathy.

"Come on, Gabe," he said. "The kid just got here." "Am I right?" Gabe repeated. Eddie simply scowled into his bowl of pretzels. The teen gave a frustrated sigh. "Fine," I said as I dug a wad of dollars out of my pocket and threw the money on the table. "I hope you lose."

"Your report card came in smart guy; I wouldn't act so snooty!" I slammed the door to my room, which really wasn't my room. During school months, it was Gabe's "study." He didn't study anything in there except old car magazines, but he loved shoving my stuff in the closet, leaving his muddy boots on my windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne and cigars and stale beer.

I dropped my suitcase on the bed and sighed. "Home sweet home," I muttered under my breath. The stench in my room was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn. But as soon as the memories came flooding back my legs felt weak and I collapsed on my bed.

I remembered Grover's look of panic—how he'd made me promise I wouldn't go home without him. A sudden chill rolled down my crooked spine. "I felt like someone—something—was looking for me right now!

I half expected Mrs. Dodds to burst into my room any second. I began to panic my heart racing. I almost had a panic attack right there in my room. I felt just like I'd felt when I was a little kid when Gabe used to beat me up.

He still remembered the pain and there was still a secret part of him that was still afraid of Gabe even if he wasn't that bright. However, the fear of that thing attacking him in his own room was far greater than anything he'd felt before.

"Percy?" The deformed teens' fear and anxiety began to fade. He sat up as his mother opened the door. "My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room." Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light.

Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. She's never once seen my disabilities as a bad thing sure I looked different than everyone else, but she loved me for who I was, flaws and all!

I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe. She threw her arms around me hugging me tightly. "Oh, Percy." Part of me wanted to cry which was something I hadn't done since I was little, but I managed to control myself as I hugged my mom.

"I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas!" Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home.

We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand through my red hair and demanded to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She didn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She didn't seem to care about that.

All she really cared about was if I was okay? Was her little boy doing all right? I told her to stop smothering me and that I was fine but secretly I was really glad to see her. "Hey, Sally-how about some bean dip, huh?" Gabe yelled from the other room.

I gritted my teeth trying to control my anger. My mother is the nicest person in the entire world or even the universe. "She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe."

Why she bothered staying with him he would never know. For her sake, I tried to sound somewhat happy about my last days at Yancy Academy. I told her I wasn't too happy about the expulsion.

I'd lasted almost the whole year this time. I'd made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convinced myself. I started choking up when I started thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner though.

"Until that trip to the museum ...What?" my mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. "Did something scare you? No, Mom." I felt bad lying. I wanted to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I thought it would sound stupid.

She pursed her lips. She knew I was holding back, but she didn't push me. Instead, she told me some interesting news. "I have a surprise for you," she said grinning "We're going to the beach."

The boy's eyes widened in disbelief. "Montauk?" She nodded "Three nights-same cabin. When?" He asked hoping he wasn't dreaming. She smiled. "As soon as I get changed." The teen was in shock he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"My mom and I hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money." Gabe appeared in the doorway ruining the touching moment. "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?" He growled.

I wanted to punch him so hard that he lost some teeth but when I met my mom's eyes I instantly understood she was offering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then we would get out of here.

"I was on my way, honey," she told Gabe. "We were just talking about the trip. "Gabe's eyes narrowed "The trip? You mean you were serious about that? I knew it," I muttered. Under my breath. "He won't let us go."

"Of course he will," my mom said evenly. "Your step-father is just worried about money. That's all. Besides, she added a grin on her face. "Gabriel won't have to settle for bean dip. I'll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Gabe softened a bit. "So this money for your trip ... it comes out of your clothes budget, right? Yes, honey." my mother said. "And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back." We'll be very careful.

Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip ... And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game. Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, and make you sing soprano for a week I thought fiercely to myself.

my mom looked over at me as if warning me not to start anything. Why did she put up with this guy? Why did she care what he thought?! "I'm sorry," I muttered under my breath. I'm sorry what was that? Gabe said as if he hadn't heard me.

"I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important poker game," I growled Please go back to it right now. Gabe's eyes narrowed. His tiny brain was probably trying to detect sarcasm in my statement.

"Yeah, whatever," he said as he went back to his game much to my relief. "Thank you, Percy," my mom said. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about... whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?"

For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes-the same fear I'd seen in Grover during the bus ride-as if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air. But then her smile returned as if what id seen had never existed. Must have been seeing things. She ruffled my hair and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip.

Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch me lug my mom's bags to the car. He kept complaining about losing her cooking-and more importantly, his '78 Camaro-for the whole weekend.

"Not a scratch on this car, boy." He warned me as I loaded the last bag. "Not one little scratch." Like I'd be the one driving. I was fourteen! Sure I'd be old enough soon to get a learner's permit but I wouldn't touch his car if someone paid me.

But that didn't matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame me. Watching him lumber back toward the apartment building, I got so mad. I wished one day he'd disappear from their lives, but he doubted that would ever happen.

Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half-sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in.

Most would not bother going near this old run-down place, let alone renting it me on the other hand... I loved the place! We'd been coming here since I was a baby. My mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place where she'd met my dad. As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappeared from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea. We got there at sunset, opened all the cabin's windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine.

We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work. "I guess I should explain the blue food huh?"

You see, Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time. But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue.

"I'm not joking She baked blue birthday cakes, she mixed blueberry smoothies, She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and even brought home blue candy from the shop. This-along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She had a rebellious streak just like me

When it got dark, we made a fire and we roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday when she had enough money to quit the candy shop that is.

Eventually, I got up the nerve to ask about what was always on my mind whenever we came to Montauk. "Mom...What was dad like?" Mom's eyes suddenly became all misty and I almost thought she would cry. However I figured she would tell me the same things she always did, but still, I never got tired of hearing it.

"He was kind, Percy," she said. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, too." She smiled you have his eyes you know. He sighed he knew he never got tired of hearing that. He knew he didn't look anything like his mother, and he wasn't sure what his father looked like though he assumed the man wasn't a redhead like his mom's sister. It was weird, yes, but it must have something to with the way he'd been born. A genetic defect or something.

I watched as my mother fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Percy. He would be so proud." I wondered how she could say that. "What was so great about me?! A dyslexic, hyperactive deformed hunchback boy with a D+ report card, kicked out of school yet again in the last thirteen years of his life. Would the man have even cared?! What if he'd left for a reason?! What if left because of him?! Because of the way he'd been born?! "How old was I?" I mean ... when he left?"

She watched the flames. Avoiding his questioning gaze. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin." "But... he knew me as a baby...Right? "No, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born."

I tried to remember that I seemed to remember ... something about my father. A warm glow. A smile. I had always assumed he knew me as a baby but now my mom had never said it outright, but still, I'd felt it must be true.

But now, to be told that he'd never even seen me! I felt angry at my father. I wanted to hate him Maybe it was stupid, but I resented him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry my mom.

He'd left us, and now we were stuck with Gabe! "Are you going to send me away again?" I asked her. "To another boarding school?" She pulled a marshmallow from the fire avoiding my gaze.

"I-I don't know, honey." Her voice sounding somewhat heavy. "I think ... I think we'll have to do something. Because you don't want me around?" I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.

My mom's eyes instantly welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezing it tight. "Oh, Percy, no. I-I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away." Her words reminded me of what Mr. Brunner had said that it was best for me to leave Yancy.

"Because I'm not normal," The deformed teen said bitterly. "You say that as if it's a bad thing, Percy. But you don't realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe."

"Safe from what?! The teen almost shouted. She met his eyes, and a flood of memories came back to him. All the weird and scary things that had happened to me, some of which I'd tried to forget.

He remembered During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked him on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one had believed him when he told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.

Before that-a really early memory. He'd been in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put him down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. He remembered his mom had practically screamed when she came to pick him up and found him playing with a limp, scaly rope he'd somehow managed to strangle to death with his meaty toddler hands.

In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move. I knew I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword.

But I couldn't tell her. I had a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didn't want that. "My father wanted me to go to a special school?" She shook her head. "Not a school," she said softly. "A summer camp."

I stared at her as if I hadn't heard her right. Did she just say a summer camp?! My head was spinning. Why would my dad-who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me born talk to my mom about a summer camp? And if it was so important, why hadn't she ever mentioned it before?

"I'm sorry, Percy," she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I-I couldn't send you to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good." I stared at her confused. "For good? But if it's only a summer camp ..."

She turned toward the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked her any more questions she would start to cry.

That night I had a really vivid dream. It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse, and a golden eagle were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons.

The horse reared up and kicked at the eagle's wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder. I ran toward them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion.

I knew I would be too late. I saw the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I screamed. "No!" I woke with a start sweat dripping down my face my red hair plastered to my forehead. "Just a dream," I told myself.

However Outside, it was actually storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery shells.

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said one word that sent a chill down my spine. "Hurricane." I knew that was impossible though Long Island never saw hurricanes this early in the summer.

But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, roar that made my hair stand on end. Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice-someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mother instantly sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock. Grover stood framed in the doorway rain running down his dark skin his curly black hair matted "But he wasn't... he wasn't exactly Grover."

"Searching all night," he gasped. "What were you thinking?" My mother looked at me in terror-not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come. "Percy," she said, shouting over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldn't understand what I was seeing. "O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yelled. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?" The deformed teen stared at his friend in shock.

I was too shocked to even register the fact that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly. I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night.

Because Grover didn't have his pants on-and where his legs should be ... where his legs should be ...My mom looked at me sternly and talked in a tone she'd never used before: "Percy. Tell me now!"

I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale as a flash of lightning. Lit the room She grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket, and said, "Get to the car. Both of you. Go!"

I nodded still In disbelief as I followed my mother and my best friend outside. However, I couldn't help but stare as Grover ran for the Camaro-but he wasn't running, exactly.

He was trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs made sense to me. I understood how he could run so fast and still limp when he walked. Because where his feet should be, there were no feet...There were cloven hooves!