I Am A Good Friend

I knew no one remembered her, but I kept asking about Mrs Dodds, Grover of course, kept trying to lie.

I wanted to go back to our little apartment with mom and Paul and sweet little Estelle between them on the couch.

I was homesick.

But that life wasn't there yet. I had to wait for I to come.

But…. 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 Latin class, too—Chiron's crazy tournament days

As exams went on, I realized that I didn't need to study at all. I knew the stuff already. So I spent my days planning out the future, imagining different reactions to my conversations with Annabeth.

On the day when I was supposed to overhear Chiron and Grover talking about me, I went out for a walk instead, i needed some fresh air.

I walked for a long time, before heading back in.

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. .

They asked me what I'd be doing this summer and I told them that I'm going to Vegas

"Oh," one of the guys said. "That's cool."

They went back to their conversation as if I'd never existed.

Grover had 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 was getting painful to watch him act like a scared kid again, especially when I was used to Grover Underwood- the confident lord of the wild.

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 Chiron 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, having weird dreams ..."

"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." I smiled inwardly.

"Okay," I said. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion."

He nodded. "Or ... or if you need me."

"sure. I don't think I'm coming back here next year. Maybe I'd call you. Okay?"

"sure" Grover looked relieved. "Look, Percy, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you."

I stared at him. Hysteria bubbling In my stomach at his expression.

"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

.
The Three Fates

I looked over at Grover, 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." Then I realized Grove that the fates were going to cut my lifeline.

"relax man" isaid. It was the best I could give him without telling him that I knew something.

"Come on!'" He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back.

Across the road, the fates were still watching me. The middle one cut the yarn, and I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks.

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 stared at me all creepy before cutting a bit of yarn."

He was sweating, he made a three-clawed gesture to ward off evil

"this not happening " he muttered "I won't let it be like last time"

. "Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth."

"Grover," I said, "What are you talking about?"

He didn't answer, I just couldn't see him so worried." Look man, whatever it is, it will be fine"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me."

I promised he could, this time I wouldn't even ditch him. Let him get a little peace, I decided

"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. times like this i never understand how he became the lord of the wild.