Chapter 3

If Helena were a sheep, then Mr. Brunner was the shepherd. He wheeled around the side of the bus, holding his hand out to gesture back and forth, able to gear the students of Yancy Academy into a straight line without having to raise his voice.

"Make haste, children, make haste," he said sternly, gesturing to one of the museum attendants and speaking to them in a hushed voice. Helena strained her ears in order to hear what was being said, but to no avail, she got nothing of use from their conversation. Boring stuff, she assumed. Helena ran a hand through her hair, opting to straighten her dark green blazer, and adjust her skirt. Percy hopped from foot to foot, barely able to contain herself, but she walked slow enough for Grover's sake, who hobbled along beside them.

Nancy Bobofit rushed past the Jackson sisters. Percy slyly held out her foot, but it was kicked aside by Helena. "Percy," she admonished. "Not yet." She threw a look at Mrs. Dodds, who manned the back of their line and never, not even for a single second, took her eyes off of the two sisters – and subsequently Grover. Percy glanced over her shoulder, following Helena's gaze.

"Man, doesn't she have anything better to do?" Percy whispered, complaining. "I'm telling you she hates me. If it weren't for Mr. Brunner, I'd be in detention right about now."

"Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't hate you if you bothered to do your homework for once?" Helena suggested, rolling her eyes, but then shook her head in agreement. "She does have sinister vibes. What do you think, Grover?" Helena asked, a cunning look crossing her face. "Is she a spy like you?"

Percy protested, "oh, come on! Grover is not a spy!" She wrapped an arm around Grover's shoulder. "You're not a spy, are you Grover?" Percy joked, not realizing that her friend had gone as quiet as a lamb. "Grover?" Percy poked again, then repeated her earlier statement in a much more serious tone. "Are you?"

Grover went slack-mouthed. "I-"

"Of course not," Helena quickly interjected. "I was joking." She wasn't laughing.

Grover's face went easy with relief, the tension bleeding from his shoulders, and while it looked as if he might laugh, an uncomfortable bleating noise came out instead. Percy opened her mouth, but was unable to say anything, because a large, menacing hand clawed into her shoulder. The three students froze in place.

"Don't fall behind, sweetlings," Mrs. Dodds sneered, though her voice retained its sugary sweet tone. Grover and Helena might have had their differences, but at least they could agree on one thing: Mrs. Dodds was clearly evil. Grover hopped along, matching Helena's speedy pace, as their trio flocked closer to Mr. Brunner, who didn't seem to notice.

The museum itself was a modest size: neither Percy nor Helena been to one before, and thus they couldn't help but look around in awe. Hundreds of paintings were spread out along the walls and in the middle of the museum laid hand-crafted statues hundreds of years old. None of the students were allowed to off and explore the museum on their own. By all means, their lot were considered delinquents, hellions, destined to go straight to rich-kid prison the moment half of them dropped out of high-school. Helena wouldn't exactly trust any of them either.

All around, there were employees placed strategically around the more fragile areas; glass boxes hosting thousand-year old vases, pieces of jewelry, and other little knick-knacks archaeologists had spent their entire careers trying to find. Luckily, none of them were placed around the statues. Helena was able to linger around, look at them in awe, and not be bothered by any of the attendants. She found herself pausing at one of the winged, headless figures: it was a depiction of the goddess, Nike.

"You're falling behind the rest of the class, Miss Jackson," Mr. Brunner called out behind her, his wheels squeaking across the marble floor. It took but a moment until he was at her side.

"I do love a good statue," Mr. Brunner acknowledged, the admiration blatant in his voice. He nodded at it, then glanced at her. "Nike, the goddess of victory. I'm not surprised at your interest in her, not in the slightest."

"She's the one of the few female statues here," Helena noted, informing him of her reasons loud and clear. "The rest are male, athletes; I can admire the craft, the work put into them, but there's nothing about them that interests me."

"Understandable," Mr. Brunner admitted. "But, not what I meant. You've a rather competitive spirit, Miss Jackson – the top student of my class."

Helena wrung her hands. "I like history. It fascinates me."

Mr. Brunner smiled, then said jokingly. "Now, we're both behind. I think it's best if we catch up with the rest of the class. I'm sure your sister is wondering where you are." As much as Helena wished to say that Mr. Brunner was wrong, and her sister likely hadn't even noticed the fact she'd disappeared from her side, but in this instance, she knew him to be right.

Let it be known – if it hasn't already figured it out by now – that Sally Jackson is what one could call 'overprotective', but she'd instilled within them a sense of vigilance. When out in the city, Percy and Helena were to stay together at all times. Their mom couldn't hover around them forever, and she definitely didn't want them hanging around with Gabe the entire day.

Helena was frankly astonished that Percy hadn't figured it out by now, and she wondered how her sister ever made it out on her own. The two of them were raised in Manhattan, New Yorkers through and through, and add being a pair of demigods on top of that? Well, it complicated things, to say the least.

When Percy was four, and she three, the two of them were sent off to day-care – like, an actual one, with about a dozen other kids. She and Percy were allowed to share a cot during naptime, because, in truth, the two girls shared a bed up until Percy hit the fourth grade. Anyways, well, one afternoon while she and Percy were dozing in their cots – something got let into the building. Helena wasn't even sure how. She'd thought about it a lot. Percy didn't even remember. It must have let itself in somehow, but the logistics of it made Helena's brain hurt. Magic, she guessed, was a strange thing indeed. It changed the rules of the game.

Helena woke up first. Percy, a deep sleeper, hadn't noticed it just quite yet, but the creature itself was long, snake-like, but there was a level of awareness to it that other snakes didn't have. Helena didn't feel comfortable writing it off as a snake, but she could recall the vibrant colors of red, yellow, and white that looped and wrapped around the entirety of its skin. It was the weight of it wrapping itself around her body that led to her waking up. She would have been its first kill; having been the smaller of the two, she didn't doubt that the snake creature must have thought Helena would make a fine appetizer, and Percy, the main course.

She could remember the way it hissed, flicking its tongue, smelling the air. As she thought about it, she could feel it tickle her cheeks, enough to make her shudder. Eight years had come and gone and it may as well have been for nothing. The strange beast tightened its hold; cracking her ribs, stealing her breath, and the beat of her heart away from her in a span of three, maybe four minutes max. But, then, Percy woke up. And thank the gods for toddler super strength, because Percy pulled the snake off of Helena in an instant, and threw it across the room. Helena could still hear the crunch of its skull bashing against the wall, destroying some of the plaster. At the time, there were other children in the room with them – and well, eventually one of them woke up and screamed.

Percy also started to cry, breaking down into sobs, unable to comprehend what she did or how she did it. Instinct, Helena knew, it had been instinct. The caretakers came rushing in, screaming at the sight of the snake's corpse, and at the little toddler girl struggling to breathe. Sally was forced to come to the school; she cried the entire drive to the hospital. It'd been bad. Really bad. Helena could have died were it not for her sister. She thought it was then her mother must have known that the two of them were better off together, rather then not. Helena agreed, though the two never spoke about it, due to Helena having been, well, a toddler.

That was the first of the strange and mysterious incidents that revolved around Percy and Helena, but it was far from being the last. There was one year, a single year, where Percy and Helena were separated; kindergarten, otherwise known as a living nightmare. Safe to say, neither Helena nor Percy played well with other children their age. Not for a lack of effort, considering Percy had always been eager to have friends outside of her rather limited social group of her little sister, mother, and waste-of-space step-father.

But, back to the story at hand. Percy alone managed to somehow encounter a rather strange man dressed in a dark trench coat; curious, she'd been drawn to him, but the closer she got the more and more bizarre the man became.

'He had one eye, Nelly! You should have seen it!' Helena had a gut feeling on what it was that Percy had met that day. She'd come home raving about it, hands waving in the air, as she excitedly told their mother about how cool it was that she met a one-eyed man. Sally may have gotten a few odd stares in public as she walked the two of them home – as she, yet again, had been called from work to pick them up.

Out of context, it sounded somehow even worse than the whole 'Helena getting strangled by a snake' thing. The odd man booked it the moment he heard police sirens, as Percy was dragged away – crying and screaming – by a mortified teacher.

"Miss Jackson?" Were it not for Mr. Brennan's well-timed interruption. Helena blinked, finding herself alone at the statue, as the older man wheeled himself off a distance, but stopped upon realizing that his student did not follow. He stared up at her with concerned eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Oh…Sorry, sir! I zoned out." Helena explained with a shrug, but felt her cheeks burn. She was grateful her skin was so tan – it meant Mr. Brennan couldn't see how embarrassed she was at having been caught silently rambling in her head; a bit of a bad habit Helena picked up as a way to ease her own boredom.

This time Mr. Brennan made sure to accompany her on the way to the rest of their group. Sure enough, Percy was rocking on the backs of her heels, looking side-to-side, a worried expression fluttering across her face. Helena wondered if Percy was the reason Mr. Brennan went looking for her in the first place? She didn't get a chance to ask, as the older girl looked up and caught sight of her. Helena felt a tad guilty at the sight of relief washing over her sister's face.

"Dude, where were you?" Percy nudged. "I was worried."

"At the statues," Helena explained. "We rushed through them."

Percy laughed. "Not enough staff, I reckon. Man, they must have heard some crazy stuff. Can't say I blame them. Didn't an eighth grader set fire to one of the art galleries last year?"

"I think so," Helena nodded, but gestured to Percy that their group was moving forward. Mr. Brunner was back to manning his post as their main guide, stopping and talking as much as he could about the objects. Their group came to a stop at what Mr. Brunner explained was a 'stele', or in plain English, a grave marker. It was about four meters tall, made up of stone, and at the head of it was an intricately carved sphinx.

Mr. Brunner started to explain the carvings on the sides, but Helena couldn't hear over the sound of her peers giggling at the sight of the nude statues. She frowned, prepared to shove her way closer to where Mr. Brunner was presenting.

"Will you shut up?" Her sister's voice seemed to echo around the museum as the entire group of students turned to find Percy glaring at Nancy Bobofit. Helena about sighed, wanting to throttle her sister. She decided to pinch her brow instead.

"Miss Jackson," Mr. Brunner said. "Did you have a comment?"

Percy looked around, mildly horrified. "No, sir?"

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps, you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

Helena gnawed at her lips, concerned. She was half-tempted to mouth the answer, but Percy wasn't looking anywhere near her. Percy narrowed her eyes at the statue, her eyes lighting up in recognition. "That's Kronos! He's eating his kids, right?"

"Correct! Very good, Miss Jackson. He did this because…" Mr. Brunner trailed off the end, clearly prompting for another answer. It was giving Helena anxiety just thinking about it. Because of a prophecy, she wanted to scream, because Kronos was terrified of being overthrown by his children.

"Well, he was king god, and-" Helena cringed.

"God?" Mr. Brunner asked.

"Titan," Percy hastily corrected. "And…He didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So he ate them? Right? But his wife hid Zeus, the youngest, and gave Kronos a rock to eat. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into puking up his brothers and sisters."

At that, a few of the girls made disgusted sounds, while the boys laughed. Mr. Brunner continued watching Percy, his face not easy to read. Helena couldn't help but rather proud. It wasn't like Percy read much on her own. The times that she did were rather limited to graphic novels, manga, comic books and the like. Helena took this as a sign that her sister was probably watching Helena more closely than she realized. She wasn't sure if she liked that or not, but she continued to feel proud anyways.

"-And so there was this big fight between the gods and the titans – and the gods won." Percy finished, looking down on the floor, her words nothing more than a mumble. Mr. Brunner miraculously managed to hear her above the sudden roar of chatter.

Nancy Bobofit never seemed to learn. Helena heard her snort, and then whisper to her friend. "Like we're going to use this shit in real life. Like it's going to ask on our job applications, 'please explain why Kronos ate his kids'."

Mr. Brunner coughed. "And why, Miss Jackson," he said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover muttered, making eye contact with Helena, who couldn't resist giving a light smirk.

"Shut up, Underwood," Nancy hissed, her cheeks as red as her mop of hair. "Or, would you like another one of my sandwiches?"

Helena sharply twisted her head – unknowingly reminding those around her of an owl – to scowl at Nancy. "Come again, Bobofit?"

Humiliation gave Nancy an unwarranted sense of bravery and she stepped right into Helena's bubble, to the point that the dark-haired could smell the pungent odor of ketchup, peanut butter, and – garlic. Helena didn't even want to guess where that came from. "I asked, would he like another one of my sandwiches? But, I'm thinking maybe I should give it to you instead."

"Please do," Helena gritted her teeth, her blood boiling. "Just so I can shove it down your throat." It was rare Helena got mad, like properly mad. Growing up, it was always Percy stomping around, breaking things, screaming and hollering and sobbing until she collapsed on the ground, having worn herself out. Not that Helena didn't have her tantrums. She did, but she wasn't set off by anything and everything the way her sister was. It took special circumstances. Helena might not like Grover all that much, but that didn't mean she wanted to see him bullied by someone like Nancy Bobofit. A spy he may be, but he was her sister's only friend, and thus, Helena felt obliged to stand up for him a little.

"Guys! I mean, girls," Grover said, correcting himself as the two turned their glares at each other towards him. "Can we…Can we not do this in here?" He looked around the room, as if already in mourning for the millions of dollars worth of priceless artifacts.

"Outside then," Helena declared, clenching her hand into a tightly-wound fist.

"Fine, but don't pussy out on me Jackson," Nancy declared, then stepped back, turning her attention elsewhere. It was by the grace of the gods alone that Mr. Brunner must have missed their entire interaction, considering he was still focused on Helena's sister.

Grover let out a shaky breath. "Are you really going to fight her?" He whispered.

Helena shrugged. "I don't know. You're not going to tell are you?"

"I don't know…Have you even been a fight before?" Grover asked. Helena thought this must have been the longest he'd talked to her without breaking out into a sweat.

"Once," Helena nodded. "It's how I got into Yancy. Percy was accepted because she's been in all sorts of trouble, but at the time, my record was pretty clean – for a Yancy kid, at least, but I fixed that – and so, here I am."

Helena shrugged, unable to do anything else. "How about you?" She asked Grover. "What did you do to get into this place?"

Grover paused, but then the anxiety-ridden boy became uncharacteristically serious. His eyes flickered down. "I got someone killed, a friend – and this is my chance to make things right."

Helena's face went slack. There was something about his words, something familiar. Memories of a dark-haired girl danced across her brain in the form of pages; she had electric blue eyes, loved Green Day, and her name was Thalia Grace. Helena's eyes widened, and the words dropped from her mouth. "You're…Grover…"

It wasn't the words Grover appeared to be expecting. "Yes?" He said, unsure. "I'm Grover? Did you – did you not know my name? I've been your classmate for months now!" He bleated out accusingly, offended.

"No," Helena said, attempting to clarify herself. "No, I meant that-"

"Alright, alright, everyone follow me! We're to eat our lunches in the courtyard!" Both Grover and she shared an alarmed look. Their field trip was about to get a lot more complicated. And as memories rushed into her head, sending Helena into a somewhat dizzied state, she came to understand real quick that complicated wasn't even the half of it.

Nancy Bobofit bumped into her, sending her a menacing smile, exposing her nasty teeth. Grover whimpered behind Helena, but kept close to her side. Shit was about to get real. Unfortunately for the four of them, Nancy Bobofit included, Percy did not get the memo.