Hello everyone, you may have noticed that I've been gone for a few weeks, well this is what I was preparing, sorry for the delay, I'll try not to take too long, but I hope you enjoy it!
"Today, we'll be doing something different!" exclaimed Chaos, his voice suddenly an octave higher than usual, causing almost everyone in the room to flinch. Curiosity filled the air as everyone exchanged puzzled glances.
"What exactly?" Telemachus was the first to voice the question on everyone's mind.
Chaos replied enthusiastically, ignoring the discomfort caused by his dramatic entrance. "Well, as you know, there are other realities." A tense silence swept over the space, and many began to sweat. No, we didn't know that…
"So, I decided it would be interesting to show you an alternate future," Chaos continued, now fully capturing the group's attention.
"What kind of alternate future?" Athena asked, her mind already racing with possibilities. The implications intrigued her deeply, especially with Jorge present in the room.
"A reality far ahead, closer to Jorge's time," Chaos explained. At the mention of his name, Jorge smiled, excited about what was to come. "And instead of a musical, this time you'll be reading a book."
Athena and Odysseus immediately straightened, completely hooked by the idea. Athena
seemed fascinated by the prospect of learning more about the future, while Odysseus couldn't contain his curiosity about any new story he might unravel.
It was then that something heavy suddenly landed in the lap of the King of Ithaca. Startled, he looked down to find a book. Examining the cover, he read aloud: "Percy Jackson & the
Olympians: The Lightning Thief."
The title of the book sparked a range of intense reactions. Jorge's eyes lit up with recognition and a smile, clearly thrilled by something familiar. Odysseus and his family, observing the cover and title, were visibly intrigued. Poseidon, however, reacted enigmatically; a strange glimmer appeared in his eyes, difficult to interpret. But it was the reactions of Athena and Hermes that truly caught everyone's attention.
The two gods instantly paled and exchanged a meaningful look. Almost in unison, they closed their eyes, tilted their heads, and clasped their hands in a posture reminiscent of prayer.
Silence spread across the room, the tension rising among the group. No one knew to whom they were praying, but the gesture was enough to unsettle everyone. Before anyone could
question them, Chaos intervened, his voice taking on a calming tone. "Relax. None of you are in danger, not even your versions in this other reality."
Chaos's words eased some of the unease but didn't entirely dispel the concern. Athena and Hermes glanced at each other again, sharing an expression of mixed relief and apprehension. "That's not the issue," Athena began, her voice laden with gravity. Hermes nodded and added,
"The problem is dealing with Lord Zeus's reactions… and what something like this could mean."
Hermes sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly restless. Even as the god of thieves, he knew he would never dare orchestrate the theft of Zeus's ultimate weapon. "It's suicide.
Completely idiotic. I pity the poor soul who had the audacity to do it," he muttered, almost as if mourning the culprit's fate in advance.
Athena, on the other hand, was absorbed in more pragmatic thoughts, analyzing the probable consequences. "If my father discovers who did it, he'll undoubtedly craft one of his infamous punishments," she remarked, her tone hovering between cynical and resigned.
Hermes gave a nervous smile and added, "And he's very creative when it comes to punishments."
Athena let out a deep sigh. "If only he put as much effort into being a better ruler as he does into inventing new ways to torment the unfortunate…"
The silence weighed heavily in the room, laden with tension and anticipation. It was Penelope who finally broke the dense atmosphere. Her voice was gentle yet firm as she looked at her husband. "Odysseus, dear, could you start reading? I think it would help ease everyone's
worries."
Odysseus looked up at her, a small, reassuring smile forming on his lips. "Of course, my dear," he replied softly, recognizing that his wife always knew how to calm tempers, even in situations as strange as this.
Carefully, he ran his hands over the book's pages, quickly examining the introductory content. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration as he flipped through until he finally found the title of the first chapter. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to begin reading.
I ACCIDENTALLY VAPORIZE MY PRE-ALGEBRA TEACHER
Odysseus abruptly stopped and looked at the confused faces around him before asking with genuine curiosity, "What is… pre-algebra?"
Jorge, the only one in the room with any idea of what it meant, sighed. At that moment, he realized he was now the "official interpreter of the future." The responsibility of explaining modern concepts to people from antiquity had fallen squarely on his shoulders.
After Jorge's explanation, Athena and Odysseus exchanged glances, and almost instantly, a spark of interest lit up in their eyes. The idea of additional knowledge from the future,
especially something that sounded so complex, awakened a voracious curiosity in them. Athena seemed particularly thrilled, already envisioning how she could use this knowledge to expand her wisdom.
Telemachus, on the other hand, looked terrified. His contorted face was the picture of agony. He was already not a fan of the lessons he had to endure daily—and now he had to imagine a world where "pre-algebra" was apparently a common thing.
"I already have too much to learn!" he complained, frowning. "Imagine if I had been born in that time! I'd be doomed!"
Of course, he was intelligent—no one doubted that—but being intelligent and enjoying studying were entirely different things. And for Telemachus, being the prince of Ithaca already required plenty of academic effort. The prospect of even more studies only strengthened his resolve to appreciate his own time, where, at least, he didn't have to deal with something
called "pre-algebra."
Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood.
"Oh, so it's the story of a demigod, huh?" Hermes seemed more interested now, a sly smile forming on his lips. "I wonder whose child he might be."
"Oh, oh, oh, let me guess!" Aeolus chimed in, clearly excited about the topic. She loved stories about demigod heroes and their adventures. "He's my little brother!" she exclaimed, confident in her guess.
"Nah, he's probably a son of Zeus," Hermes countered, crossing his arms with a challenging air.
A dangerous and mischievous glint appeared in the eyes of the goddess of the winds. "Care to make a bet, Hermes?"
The same spark lit up in the eyes of the god of travelers. "I'm in." They shook hands enthusiastically, sealing the bet.
Athena, observing the exchange, merely shook her head in weary resignation. She knew that stories about demigods tended to revolve around the offspring of Zeus or Poseidon. And honestly, the title "The Lightning Thief" had already given away most of the mystery. It was practically guaranteed that the demigod in question belonged to one of them.
She was, however, less concerned about the hero's parentage and more uneasy about how Zeus might be handling the loss of his ultimate weapon. Athena sighed, imagining the
consequences of such a bold affront.
"Without a doubt," she thought, "it wouldn't be a pretty sight."
As Hermes and Aeolus exchanged taunts about who would win the bet, Athena could already foresee that this was only the beginning of a chaotic debate.
If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now.
"Not exactly a demigod, but I suppose a descendant still counts," Hermes mused, tilting his head as if trying to solve a riddle. "You can close the book now, dear Odysseus." He flashed a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the tease.
Odysseus frowned, visibly annoyed. Before he could respond, Eurylochus jumped into the conversation with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "You really should," he said with a suggestive smile. Odysseus turned to him, confused.
Eurylochus wasted no time and continued casually, "After all, Athena is a goddess, isn't she? So technically, you, as… her son… are a demigod too." He emphasized the words with a tone full of insinuations before discreetly exchanging a knowing handshake with Polites.
Both Odysseus and Athena froze for a moment, their faces flushing red almost simultaneously. Despite the evident irritation and embarrassment, neither of them bothered to deny the
statement. It wasn't worth it—or perhaps they simply couldn't come up with a good justification on the spot.
In their minds, both Odysseus and Athena thought the same thing: "It's best to ignore this."
Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life.
Athena reflected carefully, concluding that this reality seemed to be a dark reflection of the future of her own world—the same future Jorge had come from. In this place, the gods were apparently no longer worshiped, forgotten by humanity, while demigods, now rare, lived in anonymity, without recognition or glory.
Based on what she had deduced, Athena pondered the possible fate of this distant cousin or sibling who would inevitably discover his divine heritage. It was clear that upon doing so, he would be thrust directly into the middle of a storm, likely triggered by one of Zeus's infamous fits of rage.
Athena's expression twisted into a grimace of compassion. She knew all too well what it meant to be on Zeus's bad side—a fate she wouldn't wish on anyone, least of all a young demigod
with little choice over his destiny.
"Poor boy," Athena thought with a silent sigh. The inevitability of bearing such a heavy burden, especially under the harsh scrutiny of Zeus, was something she feared this descendant was about to face.
Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary.
Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.
"Are monsters still active?" Athena murmured distractedly, her mind racing as she tried to fully grasp the situation. The tone of her voice betrayed more surprise and concern than she had intended.
The question elicited varied reactions in the room. Many grimaced, especially Telemachus, who lowered his head slightly as he recalled his most recent experience. Once, he had believed that fighting monsters was a glorious endeavor, a feat worthy of heroic tales and songs. But after Survive, he had come to understand the harsh reality: the cost, the fear, and the despair. "I hope that boy is okay," he thought, his expression serious. "He seems like a good person."
Scylla, on the other hand, appeared more intrigued. Her tail swayed slightly as she watched the scene with anticipation. "Am I still around?" she wondered, a gleam of curiosity in her eyes.
She imagined how her story might be portrayed, perhaps even becoming part of a new grand narrative. "I hope my role is impactful!" she thought, her heads murmuring their agreement.
Athena, however, hardly noticed the others. Her mind was consumed with the possibility that the world Jorge spoke of might still be teeming with ancient dangers and that, perhaps, the balance between humans and monsters was more precarious than she had imagined.
If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think it's fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.
"The demigod wrote a book about himself and tried to warn future demigods." Circe seemed deeply intrigued. Unlike Athena and Odysseus, who were curious about the state of the modern world, her focus lay elsewhere: magic. She wanted to know whether mortals had expanded their knowledge or refined their magical practices over the millennia. But the idea of a demigod writing a memoir to warn his peers about the dangers they faced was, at the very least, fascinating to her.
"But why try to make them live normal lives? Wouldn't it be safer to train them and prepare them for monster attacks?" Penelope interjected, voicing her thoughts. Although she had left much of her Spartan mentality behind, she still believed it was common sense for demigods to be prepared from a young age to face the inherent dangers of their existence. The idea of unprepared children being thrust into a world full of monsters seemed absurd to her.
"Even Helen was trained when she was young," she continued, her voice laden with concern, "in case she was caught off guard by monsters."
The pointed ears of the Queen of Ithaca drooped slightly as she thought about unprepared demigod children facing the challenges the world might throw at them. To Penelope, the notion of not arming and protecting her children against possible threats was nearly
inconceivable. She glanced at Telemachus, who, despite his youth, was beginning to grasp the dangers of being part of something greater than himself.
Athena, though silent, reflected on Penelope's points, weighing the balance between granting modern demigods freedom and the necessity of preparing them for the inevitable. After all, the burden of divine blood was not something that could simply be ignored.
But if you recognize yourself in these pages—if you feel something stirring inside—stop reading immediately. You might be one of us.
And once you know that, it's only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they'll come for you.
"Their greatest defense mechanism might be ignorance of their heritage," Athena voiced her thoughts aloud, drawing the attention of everyone around her. "It seems that, in the future, demigods lack full awareness of their divine lineage. This suggests that a natural defense
mechanism has developed: the less a demigod knows about their heritage, the less danger they face." Her voice was calm but carried the determination of someone attempting to unravel a complex puzzle.
She paused briefly, bringing her hand to her chin in a contemplative gesture, her eyes staring into the distance as she pondered more deeply. After a few seconds, Athena continued, her curiosity growing:
"But what about the monsters? Does the same mechanism apply to them? Or are the monsters somehow neutralized by this new balance?" Her mind buzzed with possibilities as she
examined every conceivable scenario. As the goddess of wisdom, the idea of a system that balanced demigods' ignorance with the threat of monsters intrigued her profoundly.
The others reacted in varied ways: Penelope frowned, appearing unconvinced by the idea of ignoring dangers rather than confronting them. Jorge, sitting farther back, seemed lost in thought, reflecting on how Athena's explanation aligned with the modern context he knew. Circe, wearing a slightly amused smile, watched Athena with curiosity, wondering where the goddess's brilliant mind would lead her next with these theories.
Meanwhile, Scylla hissed softly, as though Athena's words had triggered something in her own memory, and Telemachus, though young, listened intently, trying to process the implications of what was being discussed.
Don't say I didn't warn you. My name is Percy Jackson.
"A name at last!" Hermes exclaimed, leaning forward slightly, clearly intrigued. "So this is our hero?" His expression was full of curiosity, and a mischievous smile played on his lips.
"I thought it should already be obvious from the book's title?" Telemachus asked, confused, glancing at his divine ancestor, who deliberately ignored him.
"It's a strange name," Aeolus commented, tilting her head as she processed the information. However, her remark was quickly interrupted by a light smack to the head.
"Ouch!" she yelped, rubbing the spot and casting a wounded look in Poseidon's direction.
"Be more respectful," Poseidon said firmly, his voice carrying the authority of a calm yet vast ocean. "Naming conventions change over time. To someone in the future, your own name might sound strange as well. Would you like it if someone pointed that out disrespectfully?" He fixed her with an intense gaze, and Aeolus averted her eyes, clearly embarrassed. When she nodded in acknowledgment, Poseidon gave a curt nod of approval, his expression softening
slightly.
Athena, meanwhile, remained silent but busy. She was jotting down the demigod's name in a notebook—a curious modern tool called a "notebook" that Chaos had given her, along with something called a "pen." According to Chaos, this was a practical way to record information in the future. The notebook was enchanted, with infinite pages, and Athena was making the most of it, meticulously writing down anything she deemed even minimally relevant or interesting.
I'm twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at YancyAcademy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.
Am I a troubled kid? Yeah. You could say that.
"Oh?!" Hermes leaned forward slightly, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. "A troublesome child, you say?" His voice dripped with interest, as though he were already preparing some sarcastic or witty remark.
Circe let out a deep sigh, closing her eyes for a moment. She could already feel the beginnings of a headache forming. "Just the beginning," she murmured to herself, visibly bracing for the chaos she anticipated Hermes's enthusiasm and the mention of trouble would bring to the discussion.
I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it,
"Oh, no..." Circe sighed internally, already feeling the exhaustion pile up at just the thought. She didn't have the energy to deal with another mortal riddled with self-esteem issues or something similar. "I hope he hasn't been abandoned or lost someone during the story," she thought, preemptively bracing for the possible dramas that might arise.
Athena, on the other hand, kept her expression neutral as she discreetly made a note in her notebook, on the page she had dedicated to Percy. She wrote "self-esteem issues" in firm letters, adding it to the observations she had been gathering.
If Chaos ever decided to bring the boy into this room someday, she already had a plan. Athena glanced briefly at Circe, pondering. The sorceress had shown, perhaps unknowingly, a natural talent for handling human emotions, especially the more complicated ones. Circe had guided both Odysseus and Telemachus during moments of need, albeit in unconventional ways.
"Perhaps she's the best ally for something like this..." Athena concluded, her mind already forming a strategy. After all, even the most stubborn mortals could be guided with the right words—and having the help of a powerful sorceress certainly wouldn't hurt.
but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan— twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.
This caught everyone's attention. After Jorge explained what a museum was, everyone seemed intrigued—some more than others and for different reasons.
I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.
Telemachus nodded to himself, a subtle expression of determination on his face. He enjoyed action, thrilling adventures—not things he deemed "boring" or ancient. Of course, he would
make an exception for his grandmother and father, though he'd never admit it out loud. It was a small concession he preferred to keep to himself.
Athena raised an eyebrow as she observed the boy. "He's probably like many his age," she mused. Telemachus seemed like someone who wouldn't have the patience for delving into details or deeper reflections. "Not so unusual," she admitted internally. However, as she thought further, Athena couldn't help but compare the young man to Odysseus as a child.
Her boy had always been different. From a young age, he had an insatiable curiosity and a spark in his eyes that reflected interest even in what others might consider "boring." "He truly was special," Athena concluded with a quiet touch of pride. Even now, looking at Telemachus, she could see fragments of that same spark, though it was somewhat muffled by the restless energy typical of youth.
But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.
Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.
Penelope seemed lost in thought. "Could making the lessons more engaging be the key to finally capturing Telemachus's attention?" She knew her son had inherited far more of her
personality than Odysseus's, particularly when it came to patience. It made sense. After all, she herself had never been taught in a conventional manner. As a Spartan by upbringing and only half-human, her education had always involved movement, practice, and challenges.
A decision began to take shape in her mind. "I'll change his teaching methods," she concluded. Perhaps adapting them to align more closely with his Spartan side would help captivate her son.
As she reflected, Telemachus felt a shiver run down his spine, as though a premonition warned him of something inevitable. He glanced at his mother, who seemed oddly focused, and
decided it was best not to ask any questions.
Polites, sitting nearby, smiled as he listened to the discussions about teaching methods. He himself often employed creative strategies with the children of Ithaca, who were always restless and full of energy—a common trait on an island surrounded by vast, uncharted waters. His favorite analogies involved boats and the sea, connecting lessons to everyday life.
Though he tried to remain impartial, Polites had a secret favorite among the youths: Amphinomus. "A kind and attentive child," he recalled. A pang of nostalgia hit him, and he wondered how Amphinomus was faring these days.
I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.
Boy, was I wrong.
See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to
the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course I got expelled anyway.
This made most of them laugh, while others, like Athena, who wore an amused smile on her lips, and Poseidon, who shook his head almost disapprovingly but with amusement in his eyes, reacted more subtly.
Hermes, however, already knew. "He's going to love this kid."
Eurylochus, after allowing himself a brief chuckle, asked, "Why was the cannon loaded?"
"Maybe to make it more realistic or for demonstrations?" Ctimene shrugged at her husband's question. She couldn't quite grasp the reasoning of people from the future—and wasn't sure she wanted to.
And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim.
Once again, laughter echoed through the theater. Some appeared uneasy at the mention of sharks, but they allowed themselves to relax.
Telemachus thought that he'd like to meet this guy—he seemed like someone fun to have around. Now, if only he knew some method of dimensional travel.
"Maybe that library where Grandma spends so much time has something," he mused.
Odysseus and Penelope suddenly felt a pressing need to pay closer attention to their son, while Athena sensed that her moments of peace might be in jeopardy.
And the time before that... Well, you get the idea.
Hermes looked determined—he was going to find this boy and get more stories.
This trip, I was determined to be good.
Odysseus shook his head in denial, a smile of nostalgia and resignation forming on his lips. "That never worked." No matter how hard he tried to behave as a child, something inevitably went wrong. It was as if the gods themselves conspired against his good intentions. Fortunately for him, his sister was often nearby to save him from harsher punishments. "It doesn't seem
like it, but Ctimene was always the more responsible one between us," he thought with a touch of admiration.
Across the room, Ctimene crossed her arms and shot a glare full of irritation at her brother. "Always making me cover for him!" The urge to smack Odysseus was almost irresistible. She rolled her eyes, but the affection in her expression softened any real intent of scolding him. After all, despite everything, he was still her older brother—the same stubborn and charming troublemaker who always found a way into mischief.
All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and- ketchup sandwich.
There were many grimaces and expressions of disapproval throughout the theater as the mention of bullying was brought up. It was clear that everyone present had little to no tolerance for such behavior.
Meanwhile, Scylla's heads began pestering her main body, insistently demanding some of the food described. The monster huffed in annoyance, but her relief came swiftly when Chaos provided a generous portion for them. This, in turn, reminded everyone that they could request any type of food they desired. Within minutes, some were already enjoying an array of varied dishes.
Circe, ever curious and experimental, took the opportunity to try another dish from the future.
She took a bite and smiled in approval. "The future knows how to create intriguing and
delicious meals." She was mentally compiling a list of foods she wanted to replicate on her island. "I wonder if Chaos would let me take a cookbook?" The idea excited her.
Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades, because he was the only sixth grader 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.
"I have a feeling about this boy," Eurylochus stated, his tone laced with his usual caution. Odysseus nodded in agreement—something rare for the King of Ithaca. Normally, he found his second-in-command's excessive precautions tiresome and, at times, unnecessarily oppressive. But this time, he felt the same. A deep instinct warned him that something important was connected to the young man.
"And I have a feeling about the teacher as well," Odysseus added, surprising both Polites and Eurylochus. It was uncommon for him to reinforce Eurylochus's concerns, as he usually sought to calm them or offer a more rational perspective. However, when Odysseus shared the same
suspicions as his brother-in-law, it was a clear signal that the situation warranted heightened attention.
Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.
"I'm going to kill her," I mumbled.
Grover tried to calm me down. "It's okay. I like peanut butter."
Athena carefully wrote down "self-esteem issues" on the page dedicated to Grover in her notebook.
"I don't think anyone would want something like that in their hair. It sounds awful," Eurylochus remarked with a grimace, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.
Before anyone could respond, an anonymous voice from the crew shouted from within the group, "You wouldn't know, Eurylochus—you're practically bald!"
The theater fell silent for a brief moment before erupting into thunderous laughter. Even Athena hid a small smile behind her hand, while Polites and other members of the crew doubled over in fits of laughter.
Eurylochus, visibly red with embarrassment, stood up abruptly, pointing at the group as if
trying to identify the culprit. "Who was it!? Who said that!?" he yelled, but his indignation only made everyone laugh harder.
"Relax, Eurylochus," Odysseus said through his laughter, placing a reassuring hand on his brother-in-law's shoulder. "Apparently, you've got some comedians in the group too."
He dodged another piece of Nancy's lunch.
"That's it." I started to get up, but Grover pulled me back to my seat.
"You're already on probation," he reminded me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."
Looking back on it, I wish I'd decked Nancy Bobofit right then and there. In-school suspension would've been nothing compared to the mess I was about to get myself into.
"Monster attack." The thought ran through the minds of the most attentive in the theater. As they read, they silently wondered how that twelve-year-old boy had managed to survive.
Without any training or experience, it seemed unlikely that he would have lasted long in such a dangerous situation.
And yet, he survived. Somehow, against all odds. If the rest of the book was any indication,
Percy Jackson wasn't just an ordinary boy—there was something about him that defied expectations and logic, even by demigod standards.
Mr. Brunner led the museum tour.
He 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.
It blew my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.
"Probably older," Odysseus commented distractedly. He recalled his explorations of the ruins in Ithaca and other places when he was young. Those experiences had taught him that things
were often much older than they appeared at first glance. His knowledge of identifying ancient objects had only deepened with Athena's teachings over the years.
Polites and Eurylochus couldn't help but feel a wave of nostalgia. They used to accompany Odysseus on his exploration adventures as children. Though not as skilled as their captain, they had learned a thing or two during those expeditions.
Meanwhile, Athena and Hermes observed silently, their thoughts wandering. Both wondered if that museum might contain something related to them—relics from an era when the gods still walked among mortals. The possibility left them curious and slightly uneasy.
He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and
started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.
"So, this woman is the monster, right?" Odysseus paused his reading to comment, and Athena nodded in agreement.
Telemachus looked confused. "How do you know it's her?" he asked his father and grandmother.
Odysseus smiled slightly, pleased to have an opportunity to demonstrate a bit of his
intelligence to his son. "Well, as the chapter title says Percy is going to vaporize his pre-algebra teacher, and Mr. Brunner is the Latin teacher, Dodds is the only possibility for being the monster." He paused, ensuring that his son was following his reasoning and understanding his point. "Besides, just from that one description of how she looks at him—and the fact that no one else finds it strange—that's already enough to know something's off about her. I'm sure in
the next few paragraphs there will be better descriptions, but we can already deduce this much from what we've got."
Telemachus had an impressed look on his face, which Odysseus noticed and acknowledged with a small, proud smile. That is, until Penelope lightly tapped his arm, bringing him back to focus. He quickly resumed reading.
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 your locker. 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.
Hermes nearly choked on the soda he was drinking. The catchphrase was unmistakable, and it sent a chill down his spine. As the messenger of the gods, he was allowed to traverse the domains of other deities without being subject to their rules, and that phrase was eerily
familiar to him.
Athena observed her brother's reaction cautiously but with a touch of regret. It was clear that Hermes recognized the monster, and the fact that she hadn't immediately identified it
suggested that it belonged to another god's domain. This narrowed the possibilities to her uncles' territories, and no monster originating from Hades or Poseidon's domain ever brought good news.
Considering that the boy was likely a son of Poseidon, Athena leaned toward the idea that the monster belonged to Hades's domain. The intelligence displayed by the creature reinforced this hypothesis. However, she resisted the theory with all her might. She didn't want to even
entertain the possibility that the first monster the boy faced was a Fury.
The thought unsettled her, knowing what such an encounter could mean for a boy so young and inexperienced.
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 human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."
Athena's eye twitched slightly. "Grover is already aware of the other world," she sighed,
contemplating the implications. Unfortunately, the boy's careless behavior regarding his origins could make Percy suspicious and inadvertently put him at greater risk.
Odysseus nodded, following her line of thought. "He might be working with Brunner," he
suggested, adding his analysis to the discussion. "The two could be collaborating to protect Percy from the monster. Placing someone in a position of authority, like Brunner, alongside someone capable of forming an emotional connection, like Grover, was a smart strategy. It could help Percy cooperate better, even amidst the confusion."
Athena considered Odysseus's words and silently agreed. If this strategy were executed
skillfully, the boy could gain significant protection against the dangers he would face. The key, however, would be ensuring that neither Brunner nor Grover compromised the plan through carelessness or impulsive actions.
Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art.
Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turned around and said, "Will you shut up?"
It came out louder than I meant it to.
"This always happens," surprisingly, it was Telemachus who had this thought. His mother, in an effort to make him less lonely, had decided to enroll him in lessons with the other children of the kingdom. She hoped that spending time with peers would help him, but the result was the opposite: they saw him as an easy target for teasing. Both children his age and older ones constantly bothered him, and Antinous was especially cruel.
On top of that, the teachers constantly compared him to his father. They never said it
outright—he was the prince, after all—but Telemachus had learned to recognize the glances and whispers. It wasn't hard to guess what they were thinking: "He'll never be like Odysseus."
Despite it all, he managed to hide this treatment from his mother. He knew how much she
already suffered from his father's absence and couldn't bear the thought of making her even sadder with his own troubles. So, he swallowed the teasing and the comparisons, trying to maintain his composure, even though it left him feeling more isolated and insecure.
His thoughts now revolved around how he could rise above it, but deep down, he wondered if he would ever be able to become the man everyone expected him to be.
The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story. "Mr. Jackson," he said, "did you have a comment?"
My face was totally red. I said, "No, sir."
Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"
I looked at the carving, and felt a flush of relief, because I actually recognized it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"
Everyone immediately tensed up. Thoughts like "Why did it have to be this one?" and "Of all things, this?" silently echoed in the minds of those present as their gazes nervously shifted toward Poseidon.
The god, for his part, fell into a deadly silence. His once calm and controlled breathing seemed to have stopped entirely. Aeolus, sitting beside him, felt a sudden change. The usual warmth
radiating from her father's presence was gone; now, he seemed to emit a piercing cold, as if she were sitting next to a block of ice. It was deeply unsettling.
"Continue," he finally said, his voice resonating with a depth that seemed to carry the entire
weight of the ocean. It was like staring into the bottomless abyss of the sea in utter darkness— grave, cold, and filled with something indescribable.
Everyone in the room held their breath, the impact of his presence becoming almost tangible. Even those most accustomed to the intensity of the gods could tell something had shifted. The tension in the air grew thicker as Jorge hesitated, his instincts warning him that every word
from this point on was like diving into unknown and perilous waters.
"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because ..." "Well..." I racked my brain to remember. "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, 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—"
"Eeew!" said one of the girls behind me.
"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continued, "and the gods won."
The crushing weight of Poseidon's presence finally lifted, allowing relieved sighs to ripple through the room. However, the god remained silent, his expression unchanged and
impenetrable. Though less oppressive than before, his silence still carried a gravity that no one could ignore. Faced with this, they decided to simply continue reading, hoping to avoid any
further tension.
Aeolus, however, couldn't fully relax. Her nervous gaze stayed fixed on Poseidon, as if she were trying to anticipate his next move. No matter how different this Poseidon seemed, her
experience with him in her own timeline had taught her that trusting his apparent calm was a gamble.
"Even a calm ocean can hide an impending storm," she thought, subtly adjusting her posture, ready for any sudden reaction. After all, with a god as volatile as Poseidon, the only certainty was that one could never be too prepared.
Some snickers from the group.
Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbled 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.'"
"And why, Mr. Jackson," 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 packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.
I thought about his question, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir."
"I didn't expect him to know," Hermes remarked, shrugging as he shook his head with a
worried expression. "It looks like he's trying to drop subtle hints about his origins, but honestly, that's something I'd strongly advise against."
The god of travelers paused, his eyes narrowing in thought. "If the boy picks up on those hints before he's ready to understand what they mean, it could be disastrous. Revelations like this require care, and this is far from a careful approach."
Hermes sighed, crossing his arms. To him, the delicate balance between protecting Percy and exposing him was being navigated recklessly. He knew that a single misstep could jeopardize everything.
"I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "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 us back outside?"
"'Happy note?'" some murmured, their voices carrying a mix of confusion and amusement at the unexpected phrase.
"Well, the gods did defeat the Titans, right?" Odysseus mused aloud, tilting his head slightly, his confusion evident. "I suppose he considers that a 'happy note'?"
"As strange as it may seem," Penelope interjected with a slight smile, supporting her husband's reasoning. She cast a thoughtful glance at the book, contemplating how something so
devastating could be framed as positive depending on the perspective.
The exchange elicited a few discreet smiles from those nearby but also stirred a sense of curiosity about what else this story might hold.
The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.
Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson." I knew that was coming.
I 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.
"What is he doing?" Circe asked, her voice tinged with irritation. "This will only make the boy more confused and suspicious—exactly what we don't want."
"Rushing him won't do any good," Penelope chimed in, pressing her lips together in agreement with the sorceress. Her expression was one of concern but also determination. She cast a
meaningful look at Odysseus, subtly signaling for him to continue reading.
Odysseus nodded, acknowledging the weight of the women's words. Adjusting his posture, he refocused on the book, determined to proceed without adding further doubts or tension. The atmosphere in the theater grew more focused as everyone awaited the next events with mounting anticipation.
"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, Percy Jackson."
"He seems very determined to push the boy," Polites remarked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "Even when I needed the children of Ithaca to push themselves, I never took this kind of approach."
"Perhaps there's something important about him beyond just being a demigod," Eurylochus speculated, crossing his arms as he analyzed the situation.
"What if there's a prophecy?" Odysseus joined the discussion, his expression serious. "If fate deems him significant, that could explain why he's being handled so unusually."
Athena, who had been silent until then, considered their observations carefully. "The boy will recover the lightning bolt," she thought confidently, "of that I have no doubt. But I don't believe it will happen so soon."
"After the monster attack," she said aloud, adjusting the notebook in her hands, "it's likely he'll be recruited and trained. It wouldn't make sense to leave him in ignorance for long if there's a prophecy involved. He needs to be prepared for what's to come."
The group nodded in agreement, even more intrigued by the boy's potential role in the future. Athena turned her attention back to the screen, her thoughts racing with the possible implications, while Odysseus, Polites, and Eurylochus exchanged concerned glances.
The atmosphere was tense, but everyone knew the truth would soon be revealed.
I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard.
I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!'" and challenged us, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But 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 expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all 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.
"An immortal, then," Ctimene commented, her expression thoughtful. She crossed her arms, reflecting. "I doubt a god themselves would be directly watching over the boy. It's more likely an immortal was sent by the gods for the task."
Her tone was firm, though tinged with curiosity. The remark left several pondering who this protector could be. Athena nodded slightly, affirming the logic of Odysseus's sister. "That makes sense. A god drawing that much attention to their direct involvement would be risky, especially in a world where their presence seems more... constrained."
Eurylochus frowned. "But what kind of immortal would be trustworthy enough for a mission like this?" He looked to Athena, seeking clarification.
"The kind the gods deem most capable of handling a potential demigod," she replied calmly. "But that doesn't mean they're free of flaws or ulterior motives."
Athena's comment lingered in the air, adding more weight to the speculation. Telemachus,
sitting beside his mother, tilted his head in confusion. "If they're an immortal, why didn't they just tell the boy what he needed to know?"
Penelope pressed her lips together, thoughtful. "Perhaps it's not that simple. Preparing someone for a greater destiny might require patience and subtlety. Not everyone is ready to hear the truth right away."
He told me to go outside and eat my lunch.
The class 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 New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.
"Looks like Father and Uncle are fighting," Hermes commented, his voice tinged with
nervousness. It was a reasonable deduction, given that if Zeus's weapon had indeed been stolen, he would be on edge. Hermes crossed his arms, trying to mask his apprehension. "I just can't decide if they're arguing because Poseidon got tired of Zeus's ramblings or because Zeus accused Poseidon of being the thief." He paused, his expression growing more serious. "Both scenarios are equally plausible, considering the king of the gods' temperament."
Nervous murmurs and nods spread through the room. Many cast cautious glances toward
Poseidon, who remained still, seemingly aloof or uninterested in the tension his mere presence created. His gaze was fixed on the floor in front of him, but those closest to him noticed the
almost imperceptible way his fingers drummed against the arm of his chair—a subtle sign that he was not as indifferent as he appeared.
Aeolus, seated beside her father, glanced at him sideways, clearly uncomfortable. Even so, she remained silent, preferring not to draw attention to herself. Athena, on the other hand, pressed her lips together and stayed stoic, though her sharp gaze betrayed that she was analyzing every detail of the situation.
"Whatever happened, I hope we don't have to watch the entire fight," Circe muttered under her breath, her voice laced with irony but also apprehension. She was well aware of the consequences a conflict between Zeus and Poseidon could bring—and none of them would be pleasant.
Odysseus and Penelope exchanged glances, both attempting to mask their unease.
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.
Hermes considered for a moment whether this Nancy could be a descendant of his—after all, the tendency to cause trouble and steal was something he knew all too well. However, he quickly dismissed the thought with a slight shake of his head. "Not every thief needs to be
related to me," he mused, though the idea amused him for a moment. He knew his reputation often preceded him, and his traits were frequently attributed to anyone with similar behavior.
Still, part of his mind remained curious. Perhaps it wasn't a blood connection, but he wondered if Nancy might, in some way, be influenced by his divine essence, even indirectly.
Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't 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 said, "Can I have your apple?"
I didn't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.
The sound of light, carefree laughter echoed through the theater, providing a rare moment of relief for everyone present. The tense atmosphere eased momentarily, and the group seemed grateful for the opportunity to relax, even if just for a moment. After all, amidst so many
revelations and concerns, it was comforting to find something that could bring a bit of levity and ease.
I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. She'd hug me and be glad to see me, 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 wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.
Understanding glances spread throughout the room. Odysseus, lost in thought, felt a wave of nostalgia as memories of his mother surfaced. He recalled her gentle reprimands and how she could never stay angry at him or Ctimene for long. A melancholic smile crossed his lips as longing enveloped him. He missed her deeply.
For a fleeting moment, a thought crossed his mind: At least I still have Athena. He didn't even notice the weight of those words, too absorbed in his contemplation.
Athena, meanwhile, sensed something familiar in her protégé. Her eyes turned toward him instinctively, as if drawn by a connection that had always been there but was rarely
acknowledged. She observed him in silence, her own thoughts submerged in reflections she couldn't fully articulate.
Mr. Brunner 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 unwrap my sandwich 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 in Grover's lap.
"Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.
Expressions of disgust and discomfort spread through the theater as Percy's vivid descriptions were narrated. Many couldn't understand why he needed to be so detailed in his observations. Confused murmurs and nervous chuckles punctuated the room.
"Did he really need to be that graphic?" someone muttered, eliciting nods of agreement.
Jorge, on the other hand, felt compelled to defend the narrative. "Look, it's hard to explain something like 'liquid Cheetos' to people who live in ancient Greece, okay?" He shrugged, trying to lighten the moment with humor.
Still, he couldn't help but reflect that maybe even his own explanations had been a bit over the top. "But it's a challenge! How do you describe that to someone who's never even seen a
Cheeto in their life?" Jorge laughed nervously, receiving confused stares from Odysseus and Penelope.
"That sounds terrible," Polites remarked, shuddering at the thought of whatever it might be. "Whatever it is, I hope it never makes its way to Greece."
Intrigued, Telemachus leaned over and whispered to his mother, "What's a 'Cheeto'?"
Penelope just shook her head, unable to come up with an adequate explanation, while Circe mentally noted to never attempt recreating anything remotely similar in her potions.
I tried to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I was so mad my mind went blank. A wave roared in my ears.
I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"
Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.
Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—" "—the water—"
"—like it grabbed her—"
"It's my brother! I knew it!" Aeolus exclaimed excitedly, raising her hands triumphantly. She loved stories about her siblings, and now she seemed even more enthusiastic. "Pay up,
Hermes!" Hovering beside the god, she extended her hand with a mischievous grin.
Hermes grumbled, clearly annoyed at his loss, but reluctantly placed a few drachmas into Aeolus's outstretched hand. "Never betting against you again," he muttered, drawing laughter from some of those present.
Poseidon shook his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. There was something almost paternal in his expression, even if he didn't fully acknowledge the sentiment.
Athena nodded, satisfied that her hypothesis had been correct. But as the others processed the revelation, a sudden wave of concern hit her. The title of the chapter echoed in her mind. "They wouldn't let the boy fight the monster, would they?" Her expression hardened, and her hand instinctively went to her chin as she pondered.
Penelope, sensing the growing tension in her husband, gently took his hand. Odysseus's fingers were clenched tightly around the book, almost trembling. He had tried to ignore the possibility that the boy was Poseidon's son, but now it was undeniable. The weight of his past
experiences with the god of the seas still haunted him. Of course, he knew the boy wasn't
responsible for his father's or brothers' actions, but the memory of his fleet being decimated still burned in his mind.
Penelope squeezed his hand more firmly, pulling him back to the present. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. After a few seconds of processing the information, Odysseus let out a quiet sigh and resumed reading, his voice now carrying a slightly firmer tone as the words filled the theater once again.
I didn't know what they were talking about. 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 shShe glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.
"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said. "But—"
"You—will—stay—here."
Grover looked at me desperately.
"I don't blame him," Hermes thought nervously, averting his eyes to avoid the image of the monster the boy was facing. Hades's Furies had always unsettled him, even as a god. They were relentless, inescapable, and their presence could make even immortals hesitate.
The boy, on the other hand, didn't seem particularly strong or brave—at least, not at first glance. Hermes could perfectly understand Grover's hesitation and fear. "It's asking too much of a child," he murmured to himself, crossing his arms and frowning in a rare display of
empathy.
Even so, he couldn't help but crack a faint smile as he considered the boy's effort. At least he tried, Hermes reflected. And that, in itself, was worthy of respect. "If only he had more time to prepare," Hermes thought, feeling a pang of concern as his gaze shifted back to the book.
"It's okay, man," I told him. "Thanks for trying." "Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked at me. "Now." Nancy Bobofit smirked.
I gave her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. 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 at me to come on.
How'd she get there so fast?
I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.
I wasn't so sure.
I went after Mrs. Dodds.
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.
"He's not that reckless… or is he?" Circe asked, eyeing the book with suspicion, her tone carrying more curiosity than reproach.
Odysseus shook his head slowly in denial, his expression serious as he considered the situation. "He's waiting," he stated with conviction. "He can't act in front of everyone, so he's biding his time."
Circe narrowed her eyes, processing her friend's words before nodding in understanding. "Makes sense. Being impulsive in a situation like this would only make things worse," she admitted, crossing her arms. "But even so, I hope he knows what he's doing."
Odysseus offered a small smile but said nothing, his attention already returning to the book and what would come next.
I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.
Okay, I thought. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop. But apparently that wasn't the plan.
I followed her deeper into the museum. 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 weird noise in her throat, like growling.
Even without the 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," she said. I did the safe thing. I said, "Yes, ma'am."
She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"
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 said, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."
Thunder shook the building.
"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "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.
The tense silence in the room was finally broken. "Oh, I'm going to teach him so many things," Hermes chuckled to himself, his tone filled with amusement and enthusiasm. Beside him, Aeolus joined in the laughter, sharing his excitement. Both seemed to see great potential in the young demigod.
Some of the others regarded them with nervous expressions, while others, like Circe, Odysseus, and Athena, cast irritated glances in their direction. The carefree demeanor of Hermes and Aeolus, considering the gravity of the boy's situation, wasn't well-received by the more
serious-minded among them.
Poseidon, however, remained silent. His gaze was distant as he pondered. "Should I worry about the youngest?" he thought, a pang of uncertainty running through his mind. Despite his imposing posture, there was something almost protective in his expression, as if he was
beginning to assess the implications of the boy's fate.
Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.
Athena, under normal circumstances, might have been bothered by the matter, but she chose to let it go. She reminded herself that the boy had dyslexia, a condition that made certain tasks more challenging. Moreover, since Telemachus had become her grandson, Athena had learned to be more understanding and patient—a lesson that came with time and their shared
experiences.
Telemachus, on the other hand, felt inexplicably offended. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but something about the way his grandmother reacted or the context of the situation left him
feeling unsettled. He cast a confused glance at Athena, who, in turn, seemed completely unaware of what was going on in the boy's mind.
"Well?" she demanded. "Ma'am, I don't..."
"Your time is up," she hissed.
Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't
human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.
While most mortals and immortals were left stunned, Athena and Hermes sighed, their suspicions finally confirmed. It was in moments like these that Athena hated being right. The thought of one of the most feared monsters being sent to attack a child turned her stomach.
"A Fury!" For the first time, Poseidon's mood shifted so dramatically that everyone in the room felt its impact. He had picked up on the hints left by his nephews, but he had hoped that if Hades had indeed sent something, it would be a Ghoul—not a Fury. His expression darkened, and the room seemed to chill under his presence.
Aeolus, meanwhile, was too busy biting her nails—torn between worry for her brother and indignation at her uncle—to notice the shift in the atmosphere. "He better have a damn good reason for this!" she exclaimed, magically growing new nails to continue biting.
"Like his helm being stolen," the Lotus Eater translated, echoing Scylla's words with an
unsettling calm that stood out against the tension of the moment. The sudden sound of the creature's voice startled a few in the room, who had momentarily forgotten its presence.
After a moment of reflection, some dismissed the possibility as unlikely. "Zeus may be careless, but I don't think Hades is," Poseidon remarked. His voice had lost some of its fury, but his posture remained rigid, as if he were still weighing the implications.
"I hope," Hermes murmured quietly to Athena, tension clear in his voice. Dealing with Zeus's wrath was terrifying enough, but Hades? The Lord of the Underworld's anger was legendary— far worse because it was rarely displayed. When Hades grew angry, the consequences were
devastating for those who dared to provoke him.
Athena gave a discreet nod, sharing her brother's concern. She hated even entertaining the thought of a cold war between the three brothers. Worse still was the idea that the smallest misstep could turn that tension into a conflict of apocalyptic proportions.
A chill ran down her spine, and she closed her eyes for a moment, pushing the thought aside. There was no room to consider catastrophic scenarios now. They needed to stay calm and focus on what was coming next.
Then things got even stranger.
"And this is where the two step in to save the boy and explain the situation," Athena declared, attempting to manage the fallout for her uncle and cousin. Her light, though tense, smile and words managed to slightly ease the tension—but only slightly.
The temperature in the room remained icy, and despite the minor improvement, many were shivering from the cold. The chaotic winds generated by Aeolus's anxiety continued to tousle everyone's hair, while the air's oppressive humidity felt as though it was emanating directly
from Poseidon. The heavy atmosphere only heightened the apprehension in the room.
The two gods' piercing glares fixed on the book made Odysseus swallow hard. He couldn't help but imagine the worst, fearing the object in his hands might burst into flames or freeze solid at any moment. Determined to stave off any impending disaster, he began reading quickly, hoping to diffuse the tension and redirect everyone's attention.
Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.
Athena's smile faltered for a brief moment but was quickly restored as a quick deduction
formed in her mind. "The pen is probably a magical object," she commented confidently, her voice an attempt to bring some rationality to the situation.
However, her words were ignored by Poseidon and Aeolus, who remained fixated on the book, as if trying to uncover some hidden secret between the lines. The tension in their expressions was almost palpable, and the atmosphere continued to bear the weight of their emotions.
Odysseus, catching the subtle cue in Athena's shift of posture, resumed reading without hesitation. He was determined to press on and, perhaps, calm what seemed to be an impending storm.
"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.
"What?" Athena's smile vanished instantly, replaced by an expression of indignation as she stared at the book, clearly surprised and frustrated by what she had just heard. She had
expected something entirely different and now seemed to be re-evaluating her expectations as the tension in the air thickened.
Equally incredulous glances followed Athena's, reflecting the general discomfort in the room. Odysseus, feeling the weight of the situation, decided to press on with the reading, hoping that the unfolding story would bring some relief or clarity. Even so, he couldn't shake the feeling
that the tension was far from over.
Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.
With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword—Mr.
Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day.
"What are these fools doing?!" Athena exclaimed, her voice full of indignation and fury. Before Odysseus could react, the goddess materialized behind him, her expression as tempestuous as her tone. Without ceremony, she snatched the book from his hands and began to reread the lines he had just narrated.
There was a silent hope in her mind that Odysseus had misinterpreted, that the man—clearly magical, more experienced, and better prepared than a twelve-year-old untrained child— hadn't truly thrown a sword in the boy's direction. But after rereading the words several times, that hope evaporated.
Athena let out a deep sigh before handing the book back to Odysseus. "The only reason I'm certain the boy didn't die is because this is only the first chapter." Her voice dripped with acid as she returned to her seat, visibly irritated.
"They probably realized their mistake and helped him," Hermes offered, his voice adopting a logical tone in an attempt to mask his own irritation. However, the disappointment was clear, even beneath his carefully chosen words.
"I hope so," Penelope murmured, her voice cold and cutting. The mere thought of a child the same age as Telemachus—her own son—being placed in such an irresponsible and dangerous
situation filled her with deep anger. Her gaze was fixed and dark as she imagined herself in the place of that mother, powerless in the face of such carelessness.
The discomfort in the room was palpable.
Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes.
My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.
The judging glances and muttered curses doubled in intensity.
Aeolus, meanwhile, had created a small pile of her already-chewed nails, nervously adding to it as the tension in the room continued to mount.
She snarled, "Die, honey!" And she flew straight at me.
Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword.
The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water. Hisss!
Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.
After a few seconds, sighs of relief echoed throughout the theater. Aeolus sank into the chair beside her father, whose rigid posture finally relaxed. Pride shone in Poseidon's eyes, and a
small smile adorned his face—barely perceptible, but unmistakable to those observing him closely.
"A natural warrior," Eurylochus commented with a smile, the admiration evident in his voice. "The boy's instincts are truly divine. His lineage undoubtedly kept him alive, but he also
displays natural abilities that cannot be ignored." He shook his head, impressed. "Fortunately, he seems to be an exceptional demigod, even among Poseidon's children."
Odysseus let out a deep sigh, feeling his heart begin to slow. He wasn't even in the situation described, yet simply reading about it had sent his adrenaline soaring. "He'll be a great
warrior," he declared with conviction, the gleam of a seasoned strategist in his eyes. "Of that, I have no doubt. He'll likely be one of the best, if not the best, of his generation." He paused, his mind already analyzing the boy's qualities. He knew how to recognize talent when he saw it, and Percy Jackson was a name he would never forget.
The theater remained in reverent silence for a few moments, each person processing what had just been narrated. To many, Percy wasn't just a boy facing an impossible destiny but a living promise of courage and potential in the face of adversity.
I was alone.
There was a ballpoint pen in my hand.
Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but me.
Confused and indignant glances once again filled the theater, like a wave of frustration sweeping over everyone.
"Where is the explanation he needs?" Ctimene was the first to voice what many were thinking, her tone laden with disbelief and exasperation.
Athena closed her eyes tightly, mentally bracing herself for what lay ahead. "This is going to be a long journey," she thought, her expression serious and the weight of responsibility evident in her features. She could already foresee the cascade of rash and reckless decisions that would unfold. After all, it wasn't uncommon for demigods to learn through trial and error—and often at a high cost.
Hermes tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but his attempt died on his lips as he met the irritated gazes of those around him. He sighed, leaning back against his chair, resigned to the
chaos ahead. "At least it's going to be interesting," he muttered to himself, though the tension on his face betrayed his concern.
Meanwhile, Penelope crossed her arms, her expression firm and protective. "If he were my son, he'd already have a full explanation of his situation," she commented in a low tone, loud enough for Odysseus to hear.
He nodded, silently sharing her frustration. The king of Ithaca knew well how crucial information was to prepare for any battle—and, in this case, to survive.
My hands were still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.
Had I imagined the whole thing? I went back outside.
It had started to rain.
Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends.
When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt." I said, "Who?"
"Our teacher. Duh!"
I blinked. We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away.
I asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was. He said, "Who?"
But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at me, so I thought he was messing with me. "Not funny, man," I told him. "This is serious."
Thunder boomed overhead.
"The father would certainly agree," Hermes murmured, his voice tinged with irritation. Just as he was starting to sympathize with Grover, the satyr agreed to this plan of keeping Percy in the dark. It was maddening to watch decisions that, in his opinion, would only complicate things further down the line.
Circe crossed her arms, her tense expression mirroring her concern. "When they finally decide to explain things to the boy, he'll probably be overwhelmed. He won't be able to process
everything at once, and that could be dangerous," she remarked, her voice firm but tinged with discouragement. She knew all too well what could happen in such situations. "If it's done in a moment of crisis, someone could get hurt… or worse."
She sighed, adjusting her posture in the chair. "I just hope they have the good sense to drop this bombshell of information in a safe place, away from immediate threats." There was a hint of skepticism in her tone, as if she doubted that would actually happen.
The glances exchanged around the room reflected the same mixture of frustration and worry. It was clear that everyone shared a similar sentiment: the situation was becoming increasingly dangerous due to the lack of communication and foresight.
I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book, as if he'd never moved. I went over to him.
He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."
I handed Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it. "Sir," I said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"
He stared at me blankly. "Who?"
"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."
He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at YancyAcademy. Are you feeling all right?"
"That's the end of the chapter," Odysseus sighed, sinking into the couch as he absentmindedly stroked Argus's head to calm himself.
"Does anyone here want to continue?" Chaos asked, slightly skeptical of the group's reactions so far.
The room fell silent for a moment, everyone exchanging uncertain glances. While the tension was palpable, there was also a sense of reluctant curiosity lingering in the air. Finally, Athena, ever the voice of reason, broke the silence.
"I believe we should," she said firmly, her gaze sweeping over the others. "If only to better understand what lies ahead for the boy."
Hermes leaned back in his chair, smirking slightly. "Well, if nothing else, this promises to be entertaining."
Circe rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of agreement in her expression. "Let's hope it's not entertaining at the cost of sanity," she muttered.
Penelope exchanged a glance with Odysseus, silently gauging his reaction, while Telemachus leaned forward, clearly eager for more, despite the weight of what they'd already heard.
After a beat, Chaos grinned mischievously. "Very well, then. Let's dive into the next chapter, shall we?"