Disclaimer: I don't own PJO, but I want to!
Annabeth POV
I awoke with a start. Malcolm was shaking me." Annabeth, it's almost breakfast time. I let you sleep a little later than usual, but I just heard the conch horn. Do you want me to lead the cabin today?" Malcolm said. I yawned, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes." It's fine, Malcolm. Just had a late night, that all. I think I came in around one. ""What were you doing?" Malcolm narrowed his eyes. "Were you with Percy?" I blushed. "Shut up, Malcolm. Do you think you could take the cabin to breakfast? I'll only be a few minutes."
As soon as I finished breakfast, Travis and Conner Stole sidled up to me. "I hear you are reading some books about Percy, and we were wondering if we could join in. We'll bring coke and chips." I groaned. Who could refuse that? I sure as heck couldn't. "Fine. But you have to bring a huge bag of chips, and a 12 pack of coke. Deal?" They nodded. "Sure thing Annabeth. Hey, where are you reading, and what time are you reading it?"
"In five minutes. We are reading in the Poseidon cabin." The Stole brothers turned around, and headed off. "Don't tell anyone!" I called after them, but I don't think they heard me.
I jogged over to the Poseidon cabin, knowing that I was late. I opened the door, expecting them to be reading, but they were playing Uno. More like Rachel, Grover, and Thalia were. Percy was writing something, and the Stole brothers were reading the chapter that they missed. "Hey, Percy, whatcha doing?" He jumped, hitting his head on the ceiling. "Oh, hi Annabeth. I was doing homework. Yeah, that's it. Homework." I raised my eyebrows. He cleared his throat. "Why don't we read now? I think Connor and Travis are finished reading."
I shrugged, "Sounds fine to me. Let's go, Seaweed Brain." Percy climbed down from his bed. I found myself staring at his abs. They were just so nice…. "Wise Girl? Why are you staring at me?" I blushed. "It's nothing. Let's just read now. Ok?" Percy shrugged. "Ok. Get comfortable everyone! Who wants to read?" Rachel raised her hand. "I'll read. Connor, give me the book." Connor sighed, but handed her the book. "Ok, where were we? Ah, I found it."
2 THREE OLD LADIES KNIT
THE SOCKS OF DEATH
I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This twentyfour/
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.
"You are psycho. Everyone here knows that." Travis chortled. I slapped him at the same time as Percy. "If you say that one more time, I will not hesitate to kick your ass to next Sunday."I threatened. Travis put his hands out protectively. "Hey, I was just joking."
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.
"You suck at lying Grover." I stated.
"I thought we already established that in the last chapter." Grover whined.
"Be quiet Goat-boy." Percy said, with a slightly condescending pat on the head.
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 social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in
sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.
"Wow, Dad must have been pissed off." Thalia remarked.
I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time. 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.
"Even Travis and I aren't that bad! We get sent out of the room only once or twice during the day." Connor said, sounding mildly impressed.
"Can everyone just shut up? I'm trying to read here" Rachel complained.
"Sorry Rachel." Everyone chorused.
Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was too
lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped. I called him an old sot. I wasn't even sure what it
meant, but it sounded good.
"You basically called him a old drunkard. I wish I could have seen his face!" I started laughing. "Shut up, Annabeth!" Percy said, blushing.
The headmaster 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 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 Grover, who'd been a good
friend, even if he was a little strange. I worried how he'd survive next year without me.
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.
I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt.
I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. I will accept only
the best from you, Percy Jackson.
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. 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 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'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend
talking about you to an adult.
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 him," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy
to mature more."
"But he may not have time. 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 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 up to the dorm.
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?"
"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.
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. 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.
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.
"Man, that's gotta suck. And he did it in front of the whole class!" Thalia said.
"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.
On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase.
The other guys were joking around, talking about their vacation plans. One of them was
going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month. 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.
They asked me what I'd be doing this summer and I told them I was going back to the city.
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.
"Oh," one of the guys said. "That's cool."
They went 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 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?"
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, 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
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, 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.
"Grover," I said, "what exactly are you protecting me from?"
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 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.
"Oh crap! Are those ladies who I think they are? If you are, you're in trouble." I said.
The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right at me.
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. "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.
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.
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?"
"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 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?" I asked.
No answer.
"Grover—that snipping of 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.
"So," I said, "should we continue? I have some more free time." Percy shrugged."Sure. Sounds good to me."
AN
Yes, I know I said I was gonna update twice a week, but that just isn't realistic. I promise to update at least twice a month. Thank you for reviewing and subscribing!
