The Demi-god Chronicles: Chapter 2
Look, I never wanted this life. A demi-god's life is dangerous, every moment spent looking over your shoulder for monsters, and our life expectancy is lower. So, I urge you with caution. If you think you're a demi-god, it's only a matter of time before your godly scent alerts monsters. If not, I envy the normal life you get to live. My story is a mess, so don't say I didn't warn you.
Barton Residence, Waverly Iowa.
Clint's children Lila and Cooper, ran through the house, high pitched squeals echoing throughout the rooms. Laura busied herself out in the garden, the front door propped open so she could watch them. Clint, as per usual, was out aways from the house, and his attention was fixed onto several archery targets in the distance. The day was perfect for being outside, the warm breeze bringing a sense of calm to Clint.
He raised his bow, not the state-of-the-art custom one he had gotten from Shield. No, this was a gift from a different life, a hard life. The bow was elegantly crafted, the wood came straight from a cedar tree grown on Olympus. A gift from his father when he first reached the magical boundary of the camp.
The string was unbreakable, and the bow itself was much the same. Clint drew one of the adamantine tipped arrows from his quiver, another gift, this one from his aunt. The fox pelt quiver never lost its craftsmanship to time, and the arrows never lost their edge. Of course, Clint kept them locked away, until the yearning kicked in.
Today was one such time, and a small smile played on his lips. Clint ran a hand down the smooth wood, before nocking an arrow, and drawing the string back. Clint shut his eyes, taking in a breath, and released his hold on the arrow with an exhale. The arrow sliced through the air, whistling as it went, until it pierced the dead center of the target.
Clint withdrew another arrow, and made to take aim, but froze. The wind blowing through the trees changed, the once gentle breeze had grown into wailing gusts. The trees began to bend in the unrelenting force, and the former clear skies had started to turn grey. In minutes, the sky had gone near black, and flashes of lightning coursed through the sky.
Clint felt a chill go down his back, and goosebumps broke out across his skin. Clint lowered the bow, keeping a tight grip on it, and his eyes were glued upwards. "What in Hades?" he muttered. It was then lightning flashed through the sky again but seemed to cover it in a blanket.
A mighty clap of thunder resounded, and it shook the ground. A torrential downpour started, and Clint quickly packed up his gear. The rain was coming down so hard, visibility was near zero, but Clint kept going up the path from the barn to the house. The hair on Clint's arms stood up on end, and Clint knew this storm wasn't natural.
The gods were angry about something. Clint more than knew what that felt like, having drawn their ire when he first joined Shield. 'A demi-god working within a government agency the like of Shield is preposterous. You could expose our entire world, boy!' Athena had said to him. But this wasn't anything to do with him, and Clint needed answers.
Laura had since vacated the garden and was now looking out through the window at the freak weather. When Clint reached the steps to his home, he heard the sirens begin to blare in the distance, and he burst through the door. Not caring about the water and mud he was tracking in, he rushed into the den, dropping his stuff onto the floor. Laura turned at the sound and saw the expression on his face.
"Clint, what's wrong?"
"Where are the kids!?" Laura's own features morphed into those of worry and pointed towards the stairs.
"They went up to play in Cooper's room." Clint moved fast to the stairs, and Laura was right on his heels.
"Clint... is this the gods?"
"Yes. We need to get to the storm cellar." Clint could hear his kids laughing from the room at the end of the hall, and in long strides, reached the doorway.
"Lila, Cooper, we're going to head downstairs, let's go." Clint scooped up Lila and went to pick Cooper up. Cooper, not fully understanding the weight of the situation, grabbed onto a few toys.
"Daddy, can I take Woody and Buzz with me?"
"Of course you can buddy. Grab Slinky too." Clint picked his son up, and quickly backtracked downstairs. Laura threw open the door to the cellar, and they all bolted down the stairs. Clint set his kids down and made for the doorway. Running a hand along the wall, his fingers came into contact with Greek lettering.
At his touch, the letters glowed bright blue, and all along the walls, more lit up. The room was now magically sealed, and Clint felt that he could breath again. 'Thank you, Hecate.' The room, and everything in it, was untouchable from the outside. It was more of a panic room, than a storm cellar, and had been a debt paid from the goddess.
Clint fell back onto the sofa, pulling his kids to his sides. The storm was audible through the walls, and Clint listened intently to every gust of wind. The sirens could faintly be heard, and the wind had picked up a great deal since they had reached the room. Minutes turned into an hour, and the hour turned into three before Clint could no longer hear the storm outside.
"Stay here." Clint got up from the couch, Laura taking the kids. Clint tapped the Greek symbols, and the glow faded away. Clint made his way back up, and thankfully, the house was still standing. A few of the windows had been blown out, and glass and pieces of branches and leaves covered the floor of the den.
Clint walked through the house, taking in all of the damage. The front door was hanging on its last hinge, and half of the porch was missing. Farther out from the house, the damage was far more destructive. Clint's truck was overturned, totaled beyond repair.
The barn's roof was gone, and the trees lining the edge of the property had been broken and ripped from the ground. A swath had been cut into the forest, and the pond's small dock was gone. Clint saw the clouds in the distance had grown lighter, but the storm was still there, moving east. Clint went to head back inside, but as he turned, he saw a flash of light.
A lone figure now stood at the edge of the trees, and even from here, Clint could feel their power. With a backwards glance to where his family was, Clint started towards them. When Clint was within just a few yards, they turned, and silver eyes locked onto him. Artemis stood before him, but he'd never seen her in a form such as this.
More often than not, the goddess would choose a form of a young teenager, much like the majority of her hunters. This time, however, was different. She was older, maybe late forties, early fifties, and her auburn hair was mixed with grey.
"Clint, we need to talk."
"Aunt Artie, what are you doing here? What happened to you?" Artemis approached her nephew, and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Most of us are reflecting a poor state at the moment I'm afraid. Things have progressed down a dangerous path. Your help would benefit us greatly." Clint's gaze turned back towards his home. When he left camp, he made it a point to keep his family safe and away from this world. Artemis addressed her nephew again, her voice calm and reassuring.
"Clint, I understand the timing of this isn't ideal, but I have no intention of involving your family. I need but a few moments of your time, and then I shall leave." Clint sighed, and looked back to the goddess. A few rain drops fell past his face, drawing his eyes up.
"Let's talk inside. It's starting to look like round 2." The sky above them had worsened once more, and it looked like the storm was about to erupt again. Artemis' gaze was also turned upward, worry etching her features.
"Yes. Zeus is... most unpleased with recent events." Clint's head snapped down, uneasiness creeping through his chest.
"Did something happen on Olympus?"
"Something of great value was taken. Come, I'll explain everything. There's quite a bit I need to catch you up on." Clint nodded, moving for the house, Artemis at his side. They passed the barn, and from here, he could see Laura peering out through the window. His kids could be heard playing again, the happenings from just a little bit ago forgotten. Clint led Artemis into his home, and moved to the dining room. Artemis took a seat at the table, and Laura stood in the doorway, taking in the new arrival. Clint and Laura stepped into the kitchen, and she whispered to him.
"Is that one of the gods?"
"Yeah, hon. That's my aunt, Artemis. Listen, can you keep the kids preoccupied for a minute or two. Something happened at Olympus, and she's spooked."
"Clint, please tell me you're not getting dragged into anything?"
"I honestly don't know yet, babe. I want to hear her out first before I make any decisions." Clint pressed his lips to her forehead, and she gripped his shirt, before gathering up the kids. Clint heard them go upstairs, and he strode into the dining room. Artemis was picking at her nails, which was odd to see a goddess doing.
"So, would you like a coffee or some water? If you guys have started doing that sort of thing." Artemis smiled and looked up at Clint.
"No, thank you. I believe we should get started. At our best guess, Zeus's master bolt, and Hades' helm of darkness were stolen two days ago from our vaults. We have no leads, but Zeus suspects a demi-god. He has put blame on several in fact. Poseidon's daughter at camp, a few troublesome children of Ares, and... well..." Artemis clenched her jaw, and it drew Clint's curiosity forward.
"Who else? It's not me, is it?" Clint was merely joking, but a small part of him hoped he wasn't right.
"No. Zeus did mention you by name, but your father won out on that argument. The other demi-god being held in scrutiny... is my son." The following silence was palpable, and Clint simply stared at her.
"I'm sorry. I may have missed a few things, being out of the loop and all, but how do you-"
"The how is not of importance. What matters is that he exists, and Zeus is far from pleased. I am unsure of how they found out about him. My child is forefront on the list, and it's only a matter of time before they find him. That's why I need to ask something of you." Artemis leaned forward, and clasped Clint's hands.
"When the time comes, he and two others will pass through here, seeking aid. When that moment arrives, please promise me you'll help him find his way."
"I promise. After all, I get the opportunity to meet my cousin, don't I? I may actually like this one for a change." Artemis smiled and rose from the table.
"Thank you, Clint. I'll give you a sign when he is near." With that, Artemis vanished in a silver mist, and Clint stared at the empty spot for a few moments. Laura came into the kitchen, looking for the goddess.
"So, what was that all about?" Clint smirked, and faced his wife.
"We're going to have guests in the near future."
MY PRE-ALGEBRA TEACHER IS A DEMON FROM HELL
The bus bounced again, hitting one of those speed bumps, and my head connected with the back of the seat. I jolted out of the nap I'd almost slipped into and looked blearily out through the window. The city of Manhattan started to flash by, and I remembered what we were doing. Yancy, the school I attend upstate, was having a field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.
Now, I know what you're thinking, it sounds like absolute torture. But I had higher hopes for this one. Our Latin teacher, Mr. Brunner, was the chaperone today. He was a middle-aged man in a motorized wheelchair. His hair was thinning, had a scruffy beard, and his frayed tweed jacket always smelled like coffee. Brunner was my only favorite teacher, and he had this awesome collection of Greek/Roman armor and weapons.
He let us play games in class, and his was the only one that didn't put me to sleep. I hoped today's trip went alright, or that at least I wouldn't get in trouble this time. Every field trip I've had, I've gotten in trouble in one way or another, even for stuff I had no control over. During my fifth-grade class trip, when we went to the Greenbelt Nature Center, I may have accidentally disturbed a huge nest of yellowjackets.
There was also the time we took a behind the scenes tour of the shark pool at the Brooklyn Aquarium, and I sort of hit the wrong lever, and our entire class took an unplanned swim... you get the idea. The entire way into the city, I had to put up with Nancy Bobofit, a freckly, redheaded menace to society. She loved stealing from the other students and staff, and then pinned it on others.
My best friend, Grover, was her target on this trip, and was pelting him in the back of the head with peanut butter and ketchup sandwich chunks. Grover was an easy target, being so scrawny, and he cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades, because he was the only sixth grader I've ever met with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs.
He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria. The only reason Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in his curly brown hair, was because she knew I couldn't do anything about it. The headmaster had threatened me with in-school suspension if I stepped another toe out of line. A soggy piece collided with his head again, and this time some ketchup splashed against my neck.
"I'm going to kill her," I mumbled under my breath. Grover rested a hand on my arm, trying to calm me down.
"It's fine, man. I actually like peanut butter." Grover dodged another piece of Nancy's lunch, and I watched part of the sandwich slide down the seat in front of us. I got tired of it and started to get out of the seat.
"That's it." Grover quickly pulled me back to my seat, casting a glance to the other chaperone.
"You're already on thin ice, and you know who'll get blamed if anything happens again." If I'd known know what was about to happen, I wish I'd decked Nancy Bobofit right then and there. The suspension I faced paled in comparison to the hell I was about to get myself into. I took a deep breath and turned my attention to the outside view. In the not so far distance, Stark Tower loomed large, and even during the day, it seemed to be brighter than all of the other buildings around it.
Seeing the building made me think of my little foster brother, and it brought a smile to my face. The museum was soon in view, and the bus came to a stop. The building was massive, and the architecture was sort of cool. Mr. Brunner rode up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery. Old weapons, covered in rust and marred by time sat in cases, everything from swords to even a bow.
It blew my mind that this stuff had survived for thousands of years. We eventually gathered around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column, a Sphinx resting on the top, and Brunner started telling us it was a grave marker for a girl about our age. A Stele, something I remembered from his classes, and he explained the markings chiseled into the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because this kind of stuff interested me, but everyone around me wouldn't stop talking.
I wanted to tell them to shut up, but every time I turned to do so, the other teacher, Mrs. Dodds, would shoot me an evil look. Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into the school's hallways. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year, when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown. From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn.
She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month. One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was even human.
He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right." Mr. Brunner kept talking about the statue, and other various Greek funeral art. Nancy snickered, muttering something under her breath about the naked guy on the stele, and finally, I turned around and said, "will you shut up?" I hadn't meant for it to come out that loud, but the whole group started laughing. Mr. Brunner abruptly stopped his story and raised an eyebrow at my outburst.
"Mr. Clarke," he said, "did you have an additional comment?" I felt my face turning red in embarrassment and stuttered.
"N-no, sir." Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the engravings on the stele.
"Perhaps you can tell us what this represents?" I glanced at the carving and felt relief flood through me when I recognized it.
"That's Kronos eating his children."
"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not yet satisfied. "And he did this because..."
"Well..." I racked my brain to remember. With all the eyes on me now, it was getting difficult to concentrate. "Kronos was the king god, and—"
"god?" Mr. Brunner asked.
"Titan," I corrected myself. "And he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, Kronos ate them, but his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters."
"Eeew!" One of the girls behind me said, her face grimacing.
"Then there was this huge war between the gods and Titans, and the gods won." Behind me, Nancy mumbled to one of her friends.
"Like this is something we'd use in real life. Like it's going to ask us on job applications why Kronos ate his kids."
"And why, Mr. Clarke," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"
"Busted," Grover muttered.
"Shut up," Nancy hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair. At least Nancy got called out too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying or doing anything wrong. It was like he had super senses. I thought about his question and shrugged.
"I don't know, sir."
"I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Clarke. 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 us back outside?"
The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like morons. Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Clarke." I knew that was coming and told Grover to keep going. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner.
"Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go, intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything.
"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told me.
"About the Titans?"
"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."
"Oh."
"What you learn from me," he said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Grayson Clarke." I wanted to get angry at him for constantly pushing me. Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C in my life. No, he didn't just expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. But I just couldn't remember all of those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.
I mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner took one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral. He told me to go outside and eat my lunch. 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, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across the country had been weird since Christmas.
We'd had massive snowstorms, flooding, and wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in. Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing. Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, no body would know we were from that school, the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.
"Detention?" Grover asked.
"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean, I'm not a genius." Grover didn't say anything for a while. Then, when I thought he was going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asked, "can I have your apple?" I didn't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it. I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and thought about my home, only over in Queens. I hadn't seen my foster parents or my little brother since Christmas.
I wanted so bad to jump in a taxi and go to them. May and Ben Parker had given me everything after my dad died. It's been four years since that day, and I had been waiting at school for almost an hour. It wasn't until a police officer showed up looking for me, did I understand. I was alone. Teary eyed, I reached under my shirt collar for the small silver knife charm I kept on a necklace. My dad had given it to me when I was six, saying it belonged to my mom. He always used to say I looked just like her.
The same dark auburn hair and piercing grey eyes. He always spoke about her, and I knew she was still alive, but when the time came, she never showed up to claim me as hers. I bounced around a few foster homes, no one really wanting me. Until May and Ben walked in, and as she told me later, she had this overwhelming urge to go straight to my room. I met Peter, who was two at the time, and he took to me instantly. I've been with them for two years now, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
If I went home, May would hug me and be glad to see me, but she'd be disappointed, her and Ben both. They'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my fourth school in two years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I felt bad enough that I'd caused so much trouble, especially with how much this was probably costing them to send me here. I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look either one would give me. I wiped my sleeve against my eyes, before Grover asked me what was wrong. Mr. Brunner had parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp.
He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table. I was about to take out my lunch, when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends. I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists and dumped her half-eaten lunch into Grover's lap.
"Oops." She grinned at me with her nasty, crooked teeth. I tried to stay cool, I really did. The school counselor had told me a million times, count to ten, get control of your temper. But I was so mad that my mind went blank. It was like I had a roaring in my ears, like the wind moving through trees. I don't even remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was on her butt in the fountain.
Halfway to sobbing, she screamed, "Grayson pushed me!" In the next second, Mrs. Dodds was next to us, like she materialized out of thin air. All of the other kids were whispering, the occasional snicker coming from the group. All I knew was that I was in trouble again. As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, Mrs. Dodds turned on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester.
"Now, honey-"
"I know," I grumbled. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the best thing I could've said in that moment.
"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said.
"Wait!" Grover yelped. "It was me. I pushed her." I stared at him, stunned. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death. She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.
"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.
"But-"
"You will stay right here." Dodds' expression even started to scare me a little. Grover looked at me desperately.
"It's okay, man," I told him. "Thanks for trying."
"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked at me. "Now." Nancy Bobofit smirked. I stared her down just as hard as we went past. Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently for me to follow. 'How'd she get up there so fast?' There was no way this frail, little old lady just booked it up all those stairs in the span of a few seconds. I felt uneasy, like a cold feeling washing over my insides, but I went after her.
Halfway up the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He was looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel. I looked back up to see Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall. 'Okay, she's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop, nothing too bad'. I followed her deeper into the museum, gazing at the passing gift shop, and I started to worry.
When I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section. Except for us, the gallery was empty. Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this strange noise in her throat, like growling. Even without her making that noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze, as if she wanted to pulverize it.
"You've been giving us problems, honey. You and that girl." I had no idea what girl she was talking about, but I did the safest thing, and nodded.
"Yes, ma'am." She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket.
"Did either of you really think you wouldn't get caught?" The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil. She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me.
"I'll... I'll try harder, ma'am." Thunder shook the building, scaring the living crap out of me.
"We are not fools, Grayson Clarke," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. To steal from your own grandfather, nonetheless. Confess, and you will suffer less pain." I didn't know what she was talking about. All I could think about was what she had just said. 'Do I still have living relatives?'
"Well!?" she demanded.
"Ma'am, I honestly don't..."
"THIS GAME IS OVER!" she hissed, her voice getting deeper. Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like hot coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into sharp talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human anymore. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings, claws and a mouth full of nasty fangs, and she was about to tear into me. Then things got even stranger. Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, taking everything in quickly.
"Grayson, your necklace, take it out!" he shouted, and I reached under my collar. Brunner shouted a few words in Greek. "Παιδί του Κυνηγιού!" The charm glowed brightly for a second, and in my hand now rested a long, silver hunting knife with what looked like an antler for a handle. At the sight of the weapon, Mrs. Dodds lunged at me with a nasty hiss. Wide eyed, I dodged and felt her talons displace the air next to my ear. Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes. My knees were beginning to turn to jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the knife.
She snarled, "Die, honey!" And she flew straight at me, her talons extending towards my neck. Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally, and I swung the knife. The metal sank into her side, and like sand parting before water, she disintegrated before my eyes. Yellow powder exploded everywhere, getting in my hair, and covering my clothes. The smell of sulfur, and her dying scream was all that remained. But I could still feel the evil chill in the air, and it felt as if her glowing eyes were still looking into my soul. I turned to ask Brunner what the hell just happened, but he wasn't there. Nobody was there but me, I was alone.
I glanced down to the knife, my hand trembling as the adrenaline left my system. I hadn't imagined any of it, but where did she go? On weak legs, I walked back through the museum back outside. It had started to rain, flashes of lightning blazing the sky. Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, still soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt." I did a double take.
"Who?"
"Our teacher. Duh!" I looked at her, like she was crazy, which wasn't hard. But we had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr, never did. I asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away. I asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was. He answered with a who, but he had a slight pause at first, and he wouldn't look at me, so I thought he was messing with me.
"Dude, this isn't funny. This is serious." Thunder boomed overhead, and the rain poured down even harder. I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book, as if he'd never left. I walked over to him, a million questions going through my head.
"Mr. Brunner?" He looked up from his novel, a little distracted.
"Yes, Mr. Clarke?" I held up the knife for him to see.
"Sir, what is this?" He gave me a curious look between me and the knife.
"That's your charm necklace, Grayson." I shook my head, but when I looked again, the blade had changed back. 'But it was there, I stabbed her with it and...'
"Sir," I said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?" He stared at me with a worried expression.
"I'm sorry, who?"
"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher." He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned.
"Grayson, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?" It felt like the world dropped out from under me at that moment. 'What?'