Omg! Thanks to the people that took the time to review! And of course all of you who have chosen to favorite/follow. Now - I do have a question. One that might not be answered, but are the views broken for everyone? My stats are all at zero, at least in regards to view counts.
Chapter 7
"I cannot believe you didn't tell me he was coming with us!" Helena furiously whispered into Percy's ear as she smiled widely at Grover, who'd stuffed himself behind their seat. The boy-not-boy, clearly having heard her, went red in the face – his usual look – and scratched nervously at the patches of hair scattered across his face. His quick movements sent a crutch of his flying down into the aisle floor.
Percy bent over, swiftly grabbing the crutch and setting it upright for Grover. "I didn't think I had to," she shrugged. "Besides, you should be happy, because now I have someone that isn't you to talk to for the entire trip."
Helena reeled back, eyes narrowing at the sharpness of Percy's words. The older girl had been acting off the entire morning, not enough to seem abnormal mind you, but just enough for Helena to notice. She briefly wondered what sort of secret lessons their mother must have been giving her, because this was a tactic ripped right out from Sally Jackson's personal playbook. Percy shrugged off their duffle bag, letting it drop right down into Helena's lap, leaving the younger girl giving her sister an even more baffled look.
Grover was giving Percy a strange expression, then flashed his eyes towards Helena. "Hey, hey, let's not fight," he said. "Let's focus on the positives." He brightened up, then gestured at the window. "I mean, look, it's not even raining anymore!"
At the sight of the sun's warm rays, Percy's eyes relaxed at the corners, her mouth dropping its pout. Helena couldn't help but grin – an unfamiliar sight for those who lived outside of their tiny, little apartment in Manhattan. Her heart grew full, heavy with a warmth not passed down from the sun, but may as well have been. When she woke up that morning, for a moment, she'd half-forgotten about her prayer to their father. But, the sight of the not-quite-clear skies, the lack of thunder, and the absence of rain had made her heart swell up to the size of watermelon.
Helena wondered if this was how Percy felt most days. Well, most days, except this one. For whatever reason, the older girl had woken up on the wrong side of the bed and had been keen in taking it out on everyone around her. Okay, admittedly not everyone; it was pretty much directed at Helena and Helena alone.
As the bus began to move, Percy took her seat by Helena's side. And each time Helena attempted to push the duffle bag over onto the older girl's lap, Percy somehow managed to maneuver it right back into Helena's arms. It would take them about an hour and a half or so to get towards their part of the city, by the end of it, Helena's arms were bound to be a bit sore.
The bus itself was relatively standard; not a whole lot of people on it. Grover would sniff hard at the air any time the bus stopped to pick more passengers up. It was beginning to look a bit off, to say the least. Helena glanced back at him, watching him as he did it, until the two of them made awkward eye contact. "Um," he squeaked. "I was just…Man, people really need to know when to lay off the cologne sometimes, you know?"
Percy was kicked back, her knees held up on the bus, carrying the brunt of her weight against the back of the seat in front of them. She was wearing a hoodie; an old one. The two of them were back to wearing their peasant clothes. Their nicest ones were kept tucked at the way at the bottom of the bag, underneath a stash of used notebooks.
Helena felt naked; she wore no barrettes, no bows, not even a ribbon. But, that didn't mean she didn't try to work with what she had. About half of the back of her head was braided, then the other half pulled into a pony-tail that was tied together by a dull-colored band. And the rest of her, well, the rest of her was questionable to say the least. The best she had was her denim jacket – a hand-me-down, given to Helena by her mother.
In other words, a jacked that was doomed the moment Gabe figured out what teenage girls were willing to pay for a jacket twice as old as they were. Gabe liked to sell their stuff for extra cash, not that he needed it, considering the amount of money he stole out of their mother's paycheck each week.
"Percy," Helena stated blankly. "Your friend is smelling people again."
As Grover began to splutter, Percy waved up a hand, dismissing Helena. "And you're being judgmental again. Grover can't help his weird hobbies."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Both Grover and Helena protested at the same time, then abruptly stopped at the realization that for the first time, ideally the only time, the two of them were in sync. Grover ushered for Helena to go first.
"I am the most open-minded person I know!" Helena insisted, attempting to cross her arms. Failing, she then turned towards Grover. "Sniff all you want, pal. It doesn't bother me at all."
Grover ignored her. "First of all, I do not have weird hobbies. I have normal, totally legit hobbies that do not involve me going around smelling people. And secondly, I happen to have a delicate nose, okay? Is that such a crime?"
Sighing, Percy set her legs down one-by-one, and then lifted herself up to eye-level with Grover. "Man, I was originally going to wait a bit longer before throwing this on you, but, be real with me right now – are you, are you looking for the Kindly Ones?"
Grover's mouth opened. "Wh-What? What are you talking about?"
Percy smirked. "Not so fun being spied on, now is it?"
"You were spying on me?" Grover accused.
"Okay, on accident – I was only aiming for Brunner, but dude, the two of you need to learn to whisper. I didn't even have to sneak around or anything, I could hear you guys from down the hall."
Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"
"A lot. Granted, I've been hearing a lot of things lately, but uh, what's this about a summer-solstice deadline? And what do my sister and I have to do with it?" Helena stared at her sister in a sort of awed horror, but the admiration for her sister continued to grow. Percy continued to believe that Grover was eventually going to spill his guts, admit the truth, and their trio might finally be on the same wavelength for once.
Grover began to fumble with his hands, avoiding looking into Percy's eyes. "Listen, Percy, I was just concerned for the two of you. I-I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers? And I was telling Mr. Brunner was overstressed or something, because I've never even heard of a Mrs. Dodds and…"
And the more disappointed Percy seem to get, the lower Grover's voice became, until it came to a muffled stop. "Grover," Percy stated. "You're a really, really bad liar."
If Grover could turn pinker, he would. From his shirt pocket, he fished out a beat-up looking business card. "Just take this, okay? In case, you guys need me this summer."
Helena snatched it from his hands, squinting down at it. The card itself was done in a fancy script; the sort of font that made her dyslexic eyes roll aimlessly around in hopes of finding even a little bit of something legible. "Was there no other font available?" Helena scoffed. She handed it over to Percy.
"What's half-bloo-"
"Shush! Don't say it out loud," he yelped. "That's my, um…summer address." He rubbed at the back of his head. "If you ever need me, Perce," he stated. "All you have to do is call. That goes for you too, Helena."
Helena sensed he meant it too, which was cute – odd, considering she'd done nothing but torment him. Grover was an anxiety-ridden, somewhat-shady figure, but he wasn't an awful person. There were worse friends for her sister to have. That's for sure.
"Why would I need you?" Percy bit out, evidently not agreeing. Helena swiveled her head towards her, a bit taken aback by her sister's tone. Apart from her silence, her sister was not in the best mood. Helena was dying to know why, but it was clear that the two of them were in a one-sided argument of sorts.
Grover let out a weak chuckle. "About that, well, um. You see, Percy, I – I kind of have to protect you two."
Percy stared at him, her eyes blank, but her mouth twitching in a way that Helena recognized. Helena could already hear it. For the entire year, Percy had done nothing but stick up for Grover. With his crutches and his weak personality, he'd been an easy target for some of the worst of their year. Nancy Bobofit, included. And to think, after all this time, Grover was protecting them? It was laughable.
"Grover…what exactly are you protecting us from?" Percy asked, contemplative. "Mrs. Dodds, was she-" Percy never got to finish, interrupted by a grinding noise bellowing out from under their feet.
Helena clamped her ears shut with her hands, digging her teeth into her cheek in hopes of distracting herself from the sound. Black smoke spilled out from the front, coating their driver in a cloak of smog. Helena was put between a rock and a hard place; continue clutching at her ears, or choose to instead plug her nose. The smell of the fumes was awful, like rotten eggs. He coughed, fanning it out of his face, then limped tbe bus off to the side of the highway.
"Alright! Everyone off the bus!" The driver declared, though no one was surprised. Helena heaved their duffle bag, carrying it with them, not trusting it to stay untouched in their seats. Percy gave in, tugging it away from her and choosing to sling it over her back. She was much stronger than Helena, always had been.
The three of them stood in the grass. Helena wondered if the other felt as out of place as she did when surrounded by the rest of whom had been on their bus. She walked on the sides of her feet, digging them into the ground. The grass itself was still covered from the early morning dew, though it was nearing closer towards eleven. A few maple trees were clustered together, but even they seemed to shrink back against the sheer amount of litter that cluttered their home. Grover grimaced at it, choosing to pick at some of the plastic.
As she watched him, goosebumps began to form along her arms, and the short, fine hairs on her neck began to stand straight up; the weight of a strange, foreboding presence lured her gaze across not one, but four lanes of traffic. There, innocuously sitting in the grass, was an old-fashioned fruit-stand: cute, vintage, appealing to someone like Helena, who thought of herself as having an eye for that sort of thing.
On sale were heaping boxes of blood-red cherries, walnuts, and apricots; jugs of cider in a claw-foot bathtub filled with ice. Underneath the shade of a maple tree were three older women who sat in rocking chairs, knitting at the biggest pairs of socks Helena had ever seen. Adorned in white, the lady on the left appeared to be taking her time; she would gather the thread, slide in carefully through the loops, her fingers tracing it with gentle affection. Opposite to her, on the right, carried a basket filled with different bundles of yarn: shades of blues, greens, pinks, and purples. She too continued to knit, but her technique was serious and she indifferent to it. Last but not least was the middle woman: she was the oldest looking of the bunch, but evidently she did not take up the habit of knitting as her sisters did, but instead, with glowing eyes, preferred to look across the highway; directly at Helena.
The air in her lungs became stilted; her heart squeezed, stuttering, skipping its rhythm. Helena rubbed at her chest, feeling it pulse beneath her skin. Go to them, her body said, go to them now. She took a step forward, then another, and another one after that. The roar of cars became nothing to her; the lanes of asphalt but another adventure ahead. Elsewhere, an engine cried, tires squealed as their owner attempted to break, but in the end none of their efforts mattered. A pair of strong hands yanked Helena's body back to safety, shaking at her shoulders.
"Dude! What the hell?" Helena blinked, now finding herself back and looking into the worried eyes of her older sister. First, there was confusion, but then the spark of understanding soon followed.
Helena tore herself from her sister's arm, sharply turning her head to take another glance at the fruit stand. Percy didn't protest, finding herself just as entranced by the strange group of women. Grover gasped from behind the two sisters; he dropped a hand on Percy's shoulder an attempt to tug the two of them away. "Tell me they're not looking at you two!" He begged. "They are? Aren't they?"
"I don't think the middle one likes me very much." Helena whispered, understanding that she'd just been sent out to the middle of the highway, likely with the intentions that she'd meet her doom there.
Grover grimaced, then muttered bitterly. "I don't think she likes anyone at all."
Percy painted a nervous smile on her face. "Weird, right?" She chuckled. "You think those socks would fit me?"
Neither Grover nor Helena found it remotely funny in any way, shape, or form. As if she could hear them, the middle one brandished a pair of scissors, wielding it akin to a weapon; revering it in the same way her sisters did their string. Fashioned in an antiquated, the scissors were gold and silver, with what appeared to be vines engraved all along the handle.
"We're getting on the bus." She heard Grover say, but neither of the two sisters appeared to listen, so caught up they were within the scene across the street. "Come on!"
Percy shook her head, lightly scoffing. "Dude, no way. You couldn't pay me to go sit in there. It's gotta be at least a thousand degrees."
Grover pried open the doors. "Come on!" He beckoned, but evidently, whatever was outside, whatever was with the three sisters; it scared him, it scared him a lot. The fates, Helena decreed, were some of the most powerful figures in Greek Mythology.
As the left one held her sock close to her, cradling it as she would a babe; the thread stretched out between she and the third sister across from her, lightly caging the middle one in on her rocking chair. Teasing it, the middle sister pressed the scissors against the thread – and Helena could have sworn she saw it quiver in response. She heard its snip from across four lanes of traffic. With that, the first sister balled up her sock, placing it a basket that Helena hadn't noticed before. It was then that the two of them made eye contact for the first time; she smiled kindly, reminding Helena of a grandmother whom she'd never met.
The bus roared back to life behind us; the driver having wrenched a chunk of smoking metal out from the engine compartment. The passengers cheered, and for a moment the driver was treated like a modern-day hero.
Helena's legs buckled as she tried to walk – Percy's arm the main thing keeping her from dropping to the ground. Her knees were weak, shaking, and she swayed from side-to-side. Percy helped her get on the bus without much complaint. As the two of them made their way back to their seats, Helena noted that Grover didn't look the least bit better. He was shaking, shivering; his teeth chattering as if it were winter and not spring.
"Grover?" Percy asked. "You okay, man?"
Unable to speak, Grover shook his head. Helena couldn't blame him: a part of her was honored to have met them, but the remaining half was completely, and utterly terrified. She wondered if the three of them were aware of her situation, but then scratched that first half of her thought completely. A stupid question, as of course they did, for the three women were, without a doubt, the fates.
"What are you not telling us?" Percy demanded, drawing Helena's attention.
Grover swallowed. "What did you guys see back there?"
Percy opened her mouth to respond, but Helena beat her to it. "A group of old women on rocking chairs, knitting a pair of socks so big that Godzilla would have to ask for a smaller size…She cut the string – the middle one cut the string." Helena wavered, her words having gone from strong to weak in a matter of seconds. She did not like this. She did not like this at all. Helena said this about a lot of things, but this one, this one took the cake.
"Are they – are they like Mrs. Dodds?" Percy asked, glancing nervously between the two of them.
Grover didn't answer, instead he shut his eyes, made a mournful sound, and made a strange gesture that reminded Helena of what the Catholics did. "This is not happening," he said, muttering to himself. "This can't be happening. Oh, Gods, oh Gods. I can't let it be like last time, but…"
"What last time?" Percy asked.
Grover ignored him in favor of his panic attack. "Always the seventh grade," he cried. "They never get past the seventh grade."
It was clear Percy was beginning to get really freaked out. She was backing up in their shared seat, her legs twitching, as if she wanted to high-tail it off the bus the moment she were able. Helena couldn't blame her. Whatever happened out there seemed to have broken Grover for the time being.
"Let me walk you guys home from the bus station!" Grover pleaded, his eyes bulging right out of his skull. "I can't let it happen again." He repeated, not responding to any of their worried questions.
Percy shook at him, digging her hands into his shoulders. "Grover, man, get it together." Her older sister paused. "…The snipping of the yarn," she faltered. "Does this mean that one of us is going to die?"
Grover said nothing, but instead gazed at them with tear-filled eyes as if he were already picking out what sort of flowers he'd throw down on the top of their coffin – she'd prefer hydrangeas, by the way. A little, tiny part of Helena did feel bad when she and her sister ditched him at the bus terminal, but at least she could say it wasn't she who'd suggested it in the first place.