MASTER OF TIME

Installment One: Percy Jackson and the Olympians,
The Lightning Thief

by Tannin & Tele

Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan, voiding that of original content and characters.

CHAPTER TWO: IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE TWO-FACED,
AT LEAST MAKE ONE OF THEM PRETTY.

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Late Spring, 2006

Mr. Brunner had led the museum tour, guiding us through galleries and halls decorated with marble busts of naked men, obsidian pottery and engraved stones. Usually, I would have been paying rapt attention (alright, that might be stretching the truth a bit) to Mr. Brunner's objective commentary, if not for the hindrance that was my chattering peers.

Mr. Brunner had gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top and told us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides and I had to shush the kids around me. A boy, standing only about a foot away, had snickered lightly when Mrs. Dodds gave me the evil eye.

I glared at him sideways...and swallowed a gasp.

He was here. The strange, scarred boy had returned, and he was standing right in front of me. I discreetly stared at the back of his raven-haired head, dying to get a glimpse of his face. As if reading my thoughts, he shifted sideways, brushing back a lock of dark hair.

The boy was short- the smallest in his year, I'd gather- and had chin-length, feathered black hair. He was just as striking as I remembered, although wearing a rather bored expression on a childishly soft face. His bright green eyes were concealed by a horrendous pair of round glasses, which kept slipping down his nose. The boy seemed to ignore Mr. Brunner's speech in favor of flipping through his novel-length book, which I vaguely registered as being written in ancient Latin. Who brings a book on a field trip?

And, more importantly, how the hell did he manage to hide from me from over half the year, only to appear now?

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art while Nancy Bobofit snickered something vulgar under her breath about the naked man on the stele. I turned around sharply, my irritation clear. "Will you shut up?" I snapped.

It had come out louder than I meant it to, and the group laughed uproariously. My face had flushed a deep red, and the dark-haired boy glanced up from his book with an unreadable expression. Meanwhile, Mr. Brunner had stopped his story. "Mr. Jackson," he said in a low voice. "Did you have a comment?"

My throat constricted in embarrassment. "N- no, sir." I stammered out. Mr. Brunner's eyes narrowed minutely, and he pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Well...perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?

I glanced at the carving desperately, and let out a breath of relief. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?" I hesitantly asked.

"Yes," Mr. Brunner drawled, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

I shifted in place nervously, trying to remember. "Well...Kronos was the king god, and-"

"God?" Mr. Brunner lifted an eyebrow. "Titan," I corrected myself. "And ... he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters. Then there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans..." I trailed off, "and the gods won."

Behind me, Nancy was mumbling to a friend. "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

Mr. Brunner, who seemed to have unnatural hearing, lowered his dark gaze to the redhead. "And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner said loudly, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

Nancy blushed almost as red as her hair, and I caught the boy coughing lightly into his hand as if concealing a laugh. I wanted to scoff at him, but Mr. Brunner was clearly waiting for an answer. I bit my lip, blushing, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed and turned his wheelchair back to face the carving. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead the class back outside?" The group began to drift off, and the boy followed lazily behind them. I wanted to follow, shove him against the wall and shake him for answers- figuratively, of course- but Mr. Brunner called me back. I told Grover, who looked strangely solemn, to go on ahead.

I turned back to Mr. Brunner, rocking back and forth on my heels in impatience. Mr. Brunner had this look in his eyes, both dark and wise; it almost made me want to run the other way, but the man wasn't particularly threatening in his tweed jacket and wheelchair. "Sir?" I asked nervously, clearing my throat.

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told me in a low voice, rolling his chair forward. He was close enough so that his knees almost touched my own, and I took an involuntary step back, frowning.

"About the Titans?" I asked him.

"About real life. And how your studies apply to it. What you learn from me, Mr. Jackson," he had said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

My eyes widened a fraction at the way he spoke my name, before the rest of his sentence caught up to me.

'Jeez, no pressure there, Mr. Brunner,' I thought bitterly. He always pushed me so hard, more than any teacher I'd ever had.

I mean, sure, he could be rather entertaining in class; dressing in a Roman suit of armor, challenging us sword-point against chalk to run up to the board and list all we knew about a certain Roman hero, letting us watch old mythological movies on every second Friday- but Mr. Brunner had these expectations for us. Me, especially.

He wanted the impossible; for me to be as good as everyone else. No- wait. He didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better,

The man was a great teacher, but when it came to having expectations for someone like me, he was going to be solely disappointed. I mumbled something placating in response, and he dismissed me lightly, staring wistfully back at the stele...as if he'd been to her funeral or something.

I exited post-haste, pushing the strange interaction to the back of my mind and instead focusing on the more pressing matter.

"For heaven's sake, Percy...you've been staring at him for the last ten minutes. Go and talk to him already!"

I startled out of my staring session at Grover's voice, dodging a light shove aimed for my shoulder.

The class had gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue. Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, black clouds hovering over the skyscrapers. They were darker than any other storm-cloud I'd ever seen, and I figured it was global warming or something.

The weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas; we've had massive snow storms, flooding, and wildfires from lightning strikes.

I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in, but no-one else seemed to notice the strange weather...except for him.

I had returned from the building a while ago, and after assuring Grover that I hadn't gotten detention, we took a seat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others.

My sandwich had been left untouched as I unabashedly watched the strange boy sitting in the shade of a tree.

He was eating something that looked like a slice of pie out of a plastic container, his book bag leaning casually against his side. The large Latin book he had perused earlier was balancing on his knee and he flipped through the pages, green eyes partially glazed. His dark hair was windswept, cheeks flushed against the wind as he picked distractedly at his dessert.

He kept glancing up at the sky worriedly, a frown deepening as he watched the dark clouds rumble in the distance.

I had wanted to approach him. I had so wanted to approach him, and from the way Grover was looking at me (clearly unimpressed with my fidgeting), he could tell.

I was about to stand when Nancy appeared in front of me with her posse of equally unpleasant-looking girls. Grover paled drastically, and the boy glanced over at us, green eyes flashing with curiosity.

Temporarily distracted by Nancy's presence, I had opened my mouth to demand what she wanted when she nonchalantly tipped her lunch-box and dumped the half-eaten contents onto Grover's lap.

"Oops." She drawled, smirking.

My mind went blank, and I tried to stay calm...needless to say, it didn't work.

A roaring wave sounded in my ears, and while I didn't remember touching her, the next thing I knew, Nancy had tipped forward into the fountain and was soaked from head to toe.

"Percy pushed me!" She squealed loudly, after sitting out a mouthful of water.

I stood, shaking in place as Mrs. Dodds appeared to pamper her star student while Grover looked as though he was about to swoon. I tried to ignore the whispers around me and debated the merits of making a run for it.

If I grabbed a taxi now, I could probably make it to my mom's apartment before they called the school. She'd hug me tightly and fondly brush the hair from my eyes- 'you need a haircut, kiddo'- but she'd be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again.

I swallowed tightly at the thought.

"Did you see-" my peers said around me. "-The water-" "-like it grabbed her-".

I didn't know what they were talking about. All I knew was that I was in trouble again.

My gaze darted over to the green-eyed boy, who had stood as soon as Nancy misplaced her food. He was staring at me with unreadable eyes, holding something long and stick-like in his right hand.

The boy averted his eyes as I caught him staring, and tucked it- whatever it was- up into his sleeve, turning his eyes to something beyond my shoulder. His nose wrinkled, as though he smelt something unpleasant.

I snapped out of my reverie as Mrs. Dodds growled behind me; there was a triumphant fire in her eyes, and she sneered slowly- well, to be correct, it was more of a snarl. "Now, honey-" she began, voice grating.

"I know," I grumbled, looking down at my shoes. "A month erasing workbooks."

That clearly wasn't the right thing to say. "Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said, her voice sounding both saccharine and menacing as she beckoned me forward with a long-nailed claw- pardon me, finger.

"Wait!" Grover yelped suddenly, grabbing my shoulder. "It was me. I pushed her," he said, voice cracking.

I stared at him, astonished. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for me; Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death, even more so than Nancy. Both of them glared at him, and if looks could kill... "I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," Mrs. Dodds said darkly.

"But-"

"You will stay here!" She had hissed suddenly, and Grover took a step back, chin quivering. He glanced at me desperately, watery eyes pleading.

"It's okay, man," I reassured him, throat tight at the half-lie. "Thanks for trying, anyway."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds drawled. "Now!" Nancy smirked evilly at me as I hurried after Mrs. Dodds, anticipation building in my chest.

A pair of bright green eyes followed my figure, lips pursing slightly in indecision. The boy unconsciously stroked the thin, sleek piece of wood sticking out of his sleeve, and stood up quickly, making to follow.

His hand twitched almost imperceptibly, and Grover, meanwhile, fell into a dead faint- whether by his own according or not, we'll never know. Nobody seemed to notice these two events, except one man in an umbrella-clad wheelchair.

I had followed Mrs. Dodds deeper into the museum, and when I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery was empty, the silence almost deafening. Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods, a strange noise rising in her throat. Almost like a growl.

I inched away slowly but she followed instantly, almost in sync with my own movements. This occurred a couple times before she broke out with a snarl. "You've been giving us problems, honey," she said, twisting her lips in a sneer. I did the safe thing, opting for cordiality.

"Yes, ma'am," I said politely, taking another step back.

She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket irritably and stalked closer. "Did you really think you would get away with it?" Her eyes flashed.

'She's a teacher,' I thought, wary at the maniac look in her eyes. 'She's not going to hurt me...she'd get fired.' "I'll-I'll try harder, ma'am," I forced out as thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds spat my name, making me flinch. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain." I didn't know what she was talking about; all I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without reading the book and were going to take away my grade- or worse, make me actually read the book.

"Well?" she demanded, putting hands on her hips.

"Ma'am," I began slowly. "I don't..."

Her head jerked up, and she cut me off with a hiss. "Your time is up." And in that split second, as her eyes began to glow like burning cinders and her fingers became long, razor-sharp talons, I knew I was done for.