Alright, confession time: we both ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal.
I know, I know. It was rude. But Grover was freaking me out, not to mention Percy was getting freaked out by him, too, by him just looking at us like we were marked for death by the Grim Reaper himself, muttering "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to the 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 us both promise to wait for him, then made a beeline for the restroom.
Instead of waiting, Percy got his suitcase, and by some unsaid agreement, I followed his lead, then we slipped outside and caught the first taxi uptown.
"East One-hundred-and-fourth and First," he told the driver.
"So we're ditching him? But we promised," I told Percy, an unexpected wave of guilt rolling up inside of me.
"So?"
"So he's our friend."
"And? Look, okay, he's majorly freaking me out right now."
"Well, me too, but still..."
He rolled his eyes. "Live a little, Jess." He was going to get on my bad side if he kept it up, but I just sighed and slumped a little in my seat.
Now for a word about Percy's mother before I officially introduce her.
Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves both mine and Percy's theory that the best people have the rottenest luck. Her 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 Percy's dad.
Percy told me he doesn't have any memories of him, just this sort of feeling of a warm glow, and maybe a trace of his smile. His mom doesn't like to talk about his dad because it makes her sad. She has no pictures.
See, they weren't married. Percy told me that she told him 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, his mom told him. Not dead. Lost at sea. She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised Percy (and pretty much me, too) on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew we most definitely were not easy kids to take care of.
Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we all knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When we were young, Percy and I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe.
I'm sorry, but it's the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in old gym shorts inside a bundle of sweaty socks that hadn't been washed for a week.
Between the three of us, we made Percy's mom's life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he, Percy and I got along ... well, when we came home is a good example.
We walked into their little apartment, hoping Percy's 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." He glanced at me and said, "And you brought the bratty little beggar with you."
"Where's my mom?" Percy asked.
"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 we were home, he expected Percy to provide his gambling funds. He called that their "guy secret." It made me very angry that he included me in the "guy secret," considering I'm not a guy, but I went along with it anyway because it meant that if either of us two told Percy's mom, he would punch our lights out.
"I don't have any cash," Percy told him.
"Neither do I," I said, doing the same thing as Percy because that's what I always did. I mean, I always told him I didn't have mulah.
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, or she, ought to carry their own weight. Am I right, Eddie?"
Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looked at us 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. I made a face fully showing my displeasure with the situation.
"Fine," Percy said. He dug a wad of dollars out of his pocket and threw the money on the table. "I hope you lose."
"Ditto," I told Gabe.
"Your report cards came, brain boy, smarty girl!" he shouted after us. "I wouldn't act so snooty if I were you!"
Yes, my report cards went to their apartment. Well, the orphanage didn't care, so might as well go ahead and send it to the one person who does. Percy's mom.
Percy slammed the door to his room, which really wasn't his room. During school months, it was Gabe's "study." He didn't study anything in there except old car magazines, but he loved shoving our stuff in the closet (yes, we shared a room for the most part), leaving his muddy boots on our 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 along with Percy's. Home sweet home.
Gabe's smell 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 I thought that, my legs felt weak. 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 Percy's mom's voice. "Percy? Jessicah?"
She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted.
Percy's 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, like everyone else does. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Percy or Gabe. "Oh, Percy." She hugged him tight. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas!" She then turned to me. "Jessicah." She hugged me the same way she hugged him. "You've grown, too! You're much taller! Almost as tall as me!"
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 and Percy a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when we came home.
We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings and fought over them with Percy, she ran her hand through his hair and demanded to know everything he hadn't put in his letters. She didn't mention anything about us getting expelled. She didn't seem to care about that. But were we okay? Were her little boy and little girl doing all right? He told her she was smothering him, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I knew he was really, really glad to see her.
From the other room, Gabe yelled, "Hey, Sally—how about some bean dip, huh?"
I gritted my teeth and saw Percy do the same.
His mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe, and we all knew it.
For her sake, I tried to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy (I told her that part, not Percy). I told her I wasn't too down about the expulsion. We'd lasted almost the whole year this time. We'd both made some new friends. We'd both 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 Nancy Bobofit suddenly didn't seem so bad.
Until that trip to the museum...
"What?" his mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. "Did something scare you?"
"No, Mom," Percy said. "Remember? Nothing scares Jessicah."
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, and Percy didn't seem to want to tell her either.
She pursed her lips. She knew we were holding back, but she didn't push either of us.
"I have a surprise for you two," she said suddenly. "We're going to the beach."
Percy's eyes widened. "Montauk?"
"Three nights—same cabin."
"When?" I asked excitedly.
She smiled. "As soon as I get changed."
I couldn't believe it. We hadn't been to Montauk in forever, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money, because he freaking gambled it all away.
Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"
I wanted to punch him, as did Percy, I knew, but I met Percy's mom's eyes and I understood she was offering us 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 beginning to understand that I could tell a lot of things about Percy and predict his actions better than any normal best friend should've been able to. Weird, we've been doing a lot of the same stuff for a while now, and how we react to things has gotten more similar too.
"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," Percy muttered. "He won't let us go."
"Of course he will," my mom said evenly. "Your stepfather 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?"
Such a jerk. I wanna freaking KILL HIM, was all I could think.
"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. And make you sing soprano for a week.
But Percy's mom's eyes warned us both 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," Percy 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 the statement.
"Yeah, whatever," he decided.
He went back to his game, the idiotic moranus. Yes, I purposely said a non-existing word. Get over it.
"Thank you, Percy," his mom said. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about...whatever you two'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 his mom also felt an odd chill in the air.
But then her smile returned, and I figured I must have been mistaken. She ruffled mine and Percy's hair and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip.
I brushed my hair, waiting, and an hour later we were ready to leave.
Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch Percy lug his mom's bags to the car. He kept griping and groaning about losing her cooking—and more important, his '78 Camaro—for the whole weekend.
"Not a scratch on this car, brain boy," he warned Percy as he loaded the last bag. "Not one little scratch."
Like he'd be the one driving. He was freaking twelve for crying out loud. 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 Percy.
Watching Gabe lumber back toward the apartment building, Percy did something I can't explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, he made the hand gesture I'd seen Grover make on the bus, a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a three-clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement toward Gabe. The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the staircase as if he'd been shot from a cannon. Maybe it was just the wind, or some freak accident with the hinges, but we didn't stay long enough to find out.
Percy and I got in the Camaro and told my mom to step on it. 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.
I loved the place. So did Percy.
Percy's mom never exactly said it, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place where she'd met his dad.
As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing 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 Percy's mom had brought from work.
I guess I should explain the blue food.
See, Gabe had once told Percy's 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. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and 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 did have a rebellious streak, like Percy.
When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Percy's mom told us stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told us about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.
Eventually, Percy got up the nerve to ask about what was always on his mind whenever we came to Montauk—his father. Mom's eyes went all misty. I figured she would tell him the same things she always did, but I knew he never got tired of hearing them. I always felt like I was intruding when this part of the trip happened, but they wouldn't let me go inside by myself. They wanted me to be included too, as if I were family.
"He was kind, Percy," she said. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, too. You have his black hair, you know, and his green eyes."
His mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Percy. He would be so proud."
"How old was I?" Percy asked. "I mean ... when he left?"
She watched the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin."
"But... he knew me as a baby."
"No, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born."
Percy looked as if he felt angry at his father. It was like I knew his feelings... He resented him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry his mom. He'd left them, and now we were stuck with Smelly Gabe.
"Are you going to send me away again?" Percy asked her. "To another boarding school?"
She pulled a marshmallow from the fire.
"I don't know, honey." Her voice was heavy. "I think ... I think we'll have to do something."
"Because you don't want me around?" Percy regretted the words as soon as they were out, I just knew.
My mom's eyes welled with tears. She took his hand and squeezed 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 and Percy to leave Yancy. However, I just sat there awkwardly, listening to the mother-son conversation
"Because I'm not normal," he said.
"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?" I asked
She met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me—all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me, some of which I'd tried to forget.
During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me and Percy on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed either of us when we told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.
In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move, even before I met Percy; after we met, I just had someone to move with.
I knew we should tell him mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about the weird hallucination that Percy had sliced our math teacher into dust with a sword and how I was there and witnessed the whole thing then broke down and cried about it.
But I couldn't make myself tell her. I had a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didn't want that. I could see that Percy was struggling with the same dilemma.
"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," Percy's mom said. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy—the place your father wanted to send you. And I just... I just can't stand to do it."
"My father wanted me to go to a special school?"
"Not a school," she said softly. "A summer camp."
I looked at Percy to see how he would react. I could tell he was obviously confused, trying to figure out why his dad—who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see his birth—talk to his 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 his 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."
"For good? But if it's only a summer camp ..."
She turned toward the fire, and I knew from her expression that if either of us asked her any more questions she would start to cry.
That night I had a 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 eagles 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, then looked over at Percy. He had also woken up.
Outside, it really was 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.
With the next thunderclap, Percy's mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said, "Hurricane."
I knew that was crazy. Long Island never sees 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, tortured sound 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. I looked at Percy with the same scared look that I'd had that day in the museum when I saw what he did to Mrs. Dodds.
Percy's mother sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock.
Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he wasn't... he wasn't exactly Grover.
"Searching all night," he gasped. "What were you thinking?"
Percy's mother looked at us in terror—not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come.
"Percy, Jessicah," she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"
I was frozen, looking at Grover, and I had this odd feeling that Percy was too. Unfortunately for me, 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?"
I was too shocked to register 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 ...
Percy's mom looked at us sternly and talked in a tone she'd never used before: "Percy. Jessicah. One of you, tell me now!"
I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Percy stuttered as he said something about Mrs. Dodds, and Percy's mom stared at us, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.
She grabbed her purse, tossed our rain jackets to us, and said, "Get to the car. Both of you. Go!"
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. I nearly passed out, but Percy kept me up, kept me running, and I wondered how I was ever supposed to have been the brave one, the one who wasn't scared of anything.