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 that 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.

"Percy," Itachi said quickly, "turn on your eyes and look at them."

"Alright," I said, confused, but I did it anyway. As soon as I looked at them with the Sharingan, I was blinded by the gold that radiated from them.

"W-what?!" I yelled internally, panicked.

"It's just as I thought," Itachi said. "Those three beings are immortal, Percy. Do not mess with them unless you have to."

"I-immortal?" I said in shock. "How do you even become immortal…?"

"There are a few ways that I know of," Itachi noted, "and none of them are very moral-based. Never choose to be immortal, Perseus Jackson. It will remove your humanity."

"R-right," I agreed without another thought.

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

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, man —"

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

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?"

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all."

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."

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

"Do not look at them, Perseus Jackson, or so help me," Itachi began.

"I-I can't… look away!" I responded worriedly.

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 — Sasquatch or Godzilla. Of course, that was me trying to get what had just happened off of my mind.

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?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you not telling me?"

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

I decided to play ignorant to fish for information. "You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like… Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

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, "Just tell me what you saw."

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she cut the yarn."

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 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," Grover mumbled. "They never get past sixth."

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

"Let me walk you home from the bus station," he said with terror-filled eyes. "Promise me."

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

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

No answer. I got the feeling that he was holding in tears.

"Grover — they snipped the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to die?"

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already picking the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin.

For a while, we were silent.

"Um… Itachi?" I thought eventually. "What do I do?"

"I'm at as much of a loss as you are, Percy," Itachi said with a strange inflection. "I don't know about — wait!"

"What?!"

"In the Greek mythology books we were studying," Itachi began in his 'teacher voice,' "there were myths about three old women who cut yarn to end lives. What were they called?"

I paled. "You don't mean the Fates, do you?"

I got the feeling that Itachi was nodding. "Someone will die soon. But if they are the Fates, then that means that rest of the Greek mythos is real, too."

Sweat rolled down my forehead, not just because of the lingering heat of the broken engine. "So someone will die soon, and its likely someone related to me."

Itachi was silent for a few minutes. He was likely pondering something.

"Percy," he said suddenly. I jumped a bit. "Have you looked at yourself with your Sharingan yet?"

I hesitated. "No, why?"

"Please do so. Don't ask questions."

I complied and gasped. Mixed in with the blue chakra that all life had was gold — just like the Fates.

"Percy," Itachi said in a concerned manner, "you're half immortal."

I nearly fainted. I needed to speak with my mom about this to see if she knew anything.

Confession time: I ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal.

I know, I know — it was rude. But Grover was freaking me out, looking at me like I was already dead, muttering "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to be sixth grade?"

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.

"East One-hundred-and-fourth and First," I told the driver.

A word about my mother, before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the most rotten luck. 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.

The only good break she ever got was meeting my dad.

I don't have any memories of him, 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.

See, they weren't married. She told me he was rich and important, 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. Lost at sea.

She worked odd jobs, 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.

Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When I was young, I nicknamed him 'Smelly Gabe.' I'm sorry, but it's the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts.

Between the two of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and I got along… well, when I came home is a good example.

I walked into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly 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.

Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's my mom?"

"Working," he said. "You got any cash?"

That was it. No 'Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?'

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 the Electronics Mega-Mart 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.

"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 scowled into his bowl of pretzels. The other two guys passed gas in harmony.

"Fine," I said. 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, brain boy!" he shouted after me. "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. Home sweet home.

Gabe's smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of the Fates' shears snipping the yarn.

But as soon as I thought that, my legs felt weak. I remembered Grover's look of panic — how he'd made me promise I wouldn't go home without him. A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone — something — was looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horrible talons.

Then I heard my mom's voice. "Percy?"

She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted.

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. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe.

"Oh, Percy." She hugged me tightly. "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 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. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing all right?

I told her she was smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her.

Suddenly, I remembered what I had to ask her. Before that, though…

From the other room, Gabe yelled, "Hey, Sally — how about some bean dip, huh?"

I gritted my teeth.

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

"I concur," Itachi said. "She is a very nice lady, nicer than my mother was."

A smile took over my face. I began to tell her about what the last couple of days had been like at Yancy. For her sake, I tried to sound upbeat about them. I told her I wasn't too down 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, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Bobofit suddenly didn't seem so bad.

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?"

I froze. Should I tell her?

"We need to talk to her about it eventually," Itachi said. "Now isn't a bad time to do it."

"Mom, I…" I paused. There would be time later when we were out of the apartment and away from Smelly Gabe.

"No, Mom."

She pursed her lips. She knew I was holding back, but she didn't push me.

"I have a surprise for you," she said after a moment. "We're going to the beach."

My eyes widened. "Montauk?"

"Three nights, same cabin."

"When?"

She smiled. "As soon as I get changed."

I couldn't believe it. My mom and I hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money.

Speaking of the devil, Gabe appeared in the doorway growling, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

I wanted to punch him (Itachi did, too), but I met my mom's eyes and I 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 got small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?"

"I knew it," I muttered. "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, "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," I thought aggressively. "And make you sing soprano for a week."

But my mom's eyes warned me not to make him mad.

Why did she put up with this guy? I wanted to scream. Why did she care what he thought?

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important poker game. 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 decided.

He went back to his game.

"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, and I figured I must have been mistaken. She ruffled my hair and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip.

"When we get to this 'Montauk,'" Itachi said firmly, "we will discuss this with her. She knows something."

"Yeah, I know," I replied. "But she wouldn't do anything to hurt me. She's my mom, after all."

Itachi stayed silent.

A/N III:

Wow. I did this all in one night. As a result, a bonus chapter for you guys!

Now, my plan is to upload these weekly. So there'll be another one up on Tuesday the fifteenth of January, 2019.

Now, I could upload them bi-monthly or even monthly, but that would be mean to you guys. After all, my main reason for uploading these stories, aside from improving my existing skills, is to make you guys feel something. Something happy, something sad, something that you just don't know how to describe. That's my goal.

Aside from that, I hope everyone that's still in school is having a good week after winter break — I know I am, surprisingly.

Disclaimer~!

Naruto is a property of Masashi Kishimoto and Percy Jackson is owned by Rick Riordan. I do not own either series in any way, nor do I attempt to make claims of the said ownership. This is all in good fun, after all, and to hone my writing skills.

I will see you in the next chapter.

Tychon.