GG, Kronos, But I Have Foresight

:: PERCY ::
I swear that I wasn't trying to get pigs to fly. I really, really wasn't. But the universe seems to hold some kind of grudge against me that I'm not aware of, if what happened at the end of my school year is telling of anything.

Allow me to back up a bit.

The rest of the school year passed without incident after Eve left Yancy. The only thing that was different was that I was getting steadily more and more frustrated; everybody else seemed to be of the belief that Mrs. Dodds had never been our teacher. Whenever I'd ask someone, they always looked at me blankly or stared at me like I was some hallucinating weirdo. It got so bad that I actually almost ended up believing I'd had some bad mushrooms or something.

Almost. Grover and Eve were the evidence I needed to know I wasn't just dreaming everything up.

I'd been able to tell from Eve's reactions when I talked to her in the dorm that I was right on the money and that she was lying about Mrs. Dodds being real. She hadn't been able to look me in the eyes, and she'd denied the woman's exist almost immediately after the question had left my mouth. And whenever I asked Grover about how Eve had been uninjured from the sword she'd somehow gotten stuck in her hands, he'd always flinch and stutter before claiming to not know what I was talking about.

Something was up. I just had no idea what.

One other thing that was bothering me was the weather. With each passing day, it gradually grew more and more furious and random. It was as though the sky was trying to wage war with the sea, or at the very least out do each other. One day, a twister ripped through central Manhattan, miraculously damaging only a few buildings and killing no one. Scientists on the news had been completely unable to explain how it had formed so suddenly. The next day, twenty foot waves crashed against Long Island Sound, flattening several miles of forest. It was all over the papers.

With end-of-the-year exams approaching, I was already stressed enough about getting passing grades so that I'd be allowed to return next year and my mom wouldn't be disappointed in me again. I didn't need all the distractions of the howling wind outside, or the intense pitter-patter of rain hammering against my window. All the noise and commotion from the ever-increasingly potent weather phenomena was driving my ADD through the roof. I was also worried about what had happened with Mrs. Dodds and Eve at the museum, especially since the former had disappeared off the face of the planet and the latter had left the school that night.

I might've gone crazy thinking I was… well, crazy, if it wasn't for my near certainty about being right since Eve and Grover weren't able to lie about it well enough. I was still overworking my poor brain trying to figure out why no one else except us three was able to remember Mrs. Dodds, but I made a mental note to find Eve and ask her about it next time I saw her. Having that goal helped calm me down. From what I'd been able to tell about her in the short time I'd known her, she was a far less stubborn person than Grover, who I knew would never tell me anything.

She had promised that she'd call and visit me sometime, after all, so I was sure I'd see her sometime over the summer.

All of this in mind, I focused on studying as hard as I could for the exams. I was even able to achieve some peace and quiet from Nancy, who was almost too scared to be in the same room as me anymore after Eve punched her in the face (which had been ridiculously cool, by the way). A part of me was almost disappointed by the fact that she wasn't trying to antagonize Grover or me anymore, because now I had no excuse to re-break her nose, but I managed to ignore it in favor of focusing on my work.

Finally, exam week rolled around, and I… wasn't quite ready, exactly, but at least confident that I wouldn't fail every class.

Each of the longer-than-usual tests took either two or three hours to complete, and we took two a day. We were allowed a half-an-hour break between each hour of the given exam. I sat nervously in my seat, squirming about and chewing my thumb as I desperately tried to think about what the answers to these tests might be. Some of the content in the questions (well, a lot of it, really) I simply couldn't remember having ever learned in class, and so I resigned myself to filling in a random bubble. Others I actually remembered, or was kind of sure that I did.

Latin, quite expectedly, was the test I did my best on.

I'd studied hardest for Latin, mostly to impress Mr. Brunner, who was the best teacher I'd ever had. And it had paid off. I remembered the difference between Chiron and Charon, and was able to recount how Perseus (no, not me, the mythological Perseus) decapitated Medusa in her sleep (sounds like the kind of awesome thing I would do if I was in a myth, though). The only part I didn't do so well on was conjugating those Latin verbs, but then, I don't think anyone could do well on that.

At last, the Latin test was over, and relieved to be done with the grueling exams, I got up, handed my test to Mr. Brunner, stretched, and started to make my way out of the classroom.
"Percy, may I have a word with you?" the wheel-chaired man in his tweed jacket asked.
I paused and looked back, curious. What did Mr. Brunner want with me? "What is it, Mr. Brunner?" I said, raising my eyebrow.

"You have performed remarkably well in this class," he said with a pleasant smile. I frowned at that. That was certainly not true; I would probably be passing with a grade halfway between a B and a C. It would definitely be the only B on my report card. "You have improved greatly from the beginning of the school year. And from what I can see of your exam so far, it seems like you have much care for my class."

"Uh… yeah," I said, blushing a little from the praise. I'd never been told that my school work was great before, and coming from someone who'd almost become a hero to me, I couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. However, I'd feel bad telling the coffee-smelling man that it was only because he was so cool and kind that I was trying so hard.

He'd been the first teacher I'd had to accept my random bursts of inattention, staring into space, and completely forgetting things said mere moments before, and to give me personal attention to help me improve. I didn't want to bring him down by telling him that I actually didn't really care a whole lot about what twelve things Hercules did to maintain a goddess's favor.

"There is a summer camp for people who enjoy mythology which I help teach at," the greying old man said, handing me a card. I narrowed my eyes at the information on it. Why was it called Camp Half-Blood? And was that street address the number pi? "Grover goes there, too. I hear it's also where Eve moved to."

I tilted my head at that. "But wait, if it's a summer camp, then how did she get in during the—?"

"It also functions as a year-round learning institution," Mr. Brunner interjected easily, shifting a bit and glancing away for just a flicker of a moment. I furrowed my brow at that; I got the sense he wasn't telling me the full story, but I didn't press the matter.

"I see."

"I think you would greatly enjoy this camp, Percy," he said warmly. He smiled and folded his arms on his desk. "I hope to see you there soon."

I hesitated, looked at the door, then looked back at Brunner. "I'll think about it," I promised sincerely. It did sound fun; at the very least, if my favorite teacher and my only friend were going to be there, too, I wouldn't have to be the new kid with no one to talk to. I'd been in that position far too many times already. I waved and headed for the door. "See ya later."

"Have a good evening, Percy."

Before I knew it, it was the final day of school.

Things like that happened a lot to me. I'd blink, read the time over on the nearest clock, and realize hours had passed. It made me late to a lot of different things, and was really just annoying, especially since it never seemed to happen when I was in a boring lecture.

Hurriedly, I packed all of my belongings that I'd brought with me to Yancy into my suitcase. There was no concern of something not fitting, simply because I didn't have enough to fill the darn thing. I was still mulling over Mr. Brunner's request in my head while I packed. Should I go to that summer camp he was talking about? I desperately missed my mom, Sally Jackson, who was just about the kindest person you'd ever meet. I wanted to spend the summer with her since I'd hardly ever gotten to see her after school had begun last September. But I couldn't deny that I was also very interested in the idea of hanging out with Mr. Brunner and Grover a lot. It would be fun.

Which should I choose?

Frowning at my luggage, I sighed and rubbed my hand through my hair.

"Are you alright, Percy?" Grover said from behind me, and I looked over my shoulder to seem looking at me concernedly while he packed his own suitcase.

"I'm fine," I reassured him with a smile. "Just trying to decide what to do for the summer."

My best friend stopped packing and sat on his bunk, shaking his curly-haired head. "Don't worry about it, Perce. What are your options?"

"Well…" I shrugged. "Mr. Brunner told me about a summer camp he thought I might be interested in. Camp Half-Blood, I think it's called. Do you really go there?"

"Yeah, I do," he said. "It's practically my home. Just about everyone's really nice. Well, except for Clarisse, but she's..." He paused and flinched. "Um, well, yeah."

I thought about that for a bit. It'd be great to be able to get the gang back together again—just let the days go by as I relaxed eating s'mores with Grover and Eve, and having Mr. Brunner challenge me chalk-to-sword to spell all the Latin names correctly that I could.

"A lot of the campers have something like ADD or dyslexia, too, Perce," he said suddenly, leaning forward. "You wouldn't be alone."

I looked up at that, my eyes widening. "What? You're kidding."

"Nope." Grover shook his head, laughing a little. "You know me; I'm bad at jokes."

"Can't argue there." We chuckled and I grinned, happy to have been able to meet someone as awesome as Grover. He'd been the thing that had kept me from cracking and going Karate Kid on Nancy Bobofit all year, which would've probably gotten me expelled. If it wasn't for him, I'd have hated Yancy. But I was really looking forward to next year, all things considered. It really wasn't anywhere near as bad as my other schools were.

After that, we finished packing up, left our dorm behind us, and maneuvered through the school's halls and out the door. We kept walking together all the way to the Greyhound station. I was worried I'd have to say goodbye to him there, but as it turned out, he was riding the same bus as me, so we ended up sitting beside each other.

Everything was going fine until the Greyhound broke down.

We were in a country lane, next to one of those old fruit stands, the kind you might expect to spot in a medieval film. The driver had us all get out because there was a lot of black smoke coming from the engine and the bus was getting swelteringly hot. On our side, the right side, rows upon rows of maple trees swept into the distance with a disgusting amount of McDonalds bags, styrofoam cups, and cigarette boxes slooowly decaying near the road. The fruit stand was on the opposite side, and the fruit it sold looked like it could have been grown in the Garden of Eden. Even looking at them from twenty or so feet away was making my stomach growl.

Strangely, there were no customers in the fruit stand. I would've thought that with apples that red and strawberries which looked that juicy, there'd be at least one or two people browsing the overflowing boxes of produce. But nope, there wasn't anyone buying, just three old ladies whom I assumed to be the owners of the stall, sitting there on a simple wooden bench and knitting a pair of electric-blue socks large enough to fit a giant. The women on the left and right knitted one sock each. The middle one had a big ball of yarn.

I nudged Grover and discreetly jabbed my thumb at the old ladies. "Hey, who do you think could wear those socks? Godzilla, maybe?"

He tilted his baseball cap down to stop the sun from getting in his eyes and looked where I pointed. His eyes widened and his face paled.

"Percy, we need to get back on the bus," he said very quickly, turning rapidly and tugging at my arm.

I pulled against him. There was no way I was purposefully frying myself. "What!? No way, man, it's boiling in there!" I glanced back at the old ladies; for some reason, I felt drawn to them, like some kind of gravity. And although I had no idea why, all three of the grandmas were staring directly at me.

"Man, that's kinda creepy," I said, my skin crawling a little. "Are they looking at me?"

Grover's face somehow grew even paler. "Sixth grade," he whimpered under his breath, then tugged on my arm more desperately. His nose started twitching. That was how I knew he was really upset. "Percy, we have to get back on the bus! Don't look at them."

"The old ladies? Why?"

As we spoke, the middle one reached into her pocket and took out a pair of shears, like she was going weeding after this. One of the blades was golden, the other silver. As I watched, confused, she cut the yarn once, then unwound another piece of string and cut it, too. Each snap of the shears was audible all the way over here, on the other side of the road, even atop the overheating engine and the Greyhound driver's cursing. Then the ladies folded their socks up, not taking their eyes off of me one second.

Grover's face lost any color it had left.

"Percy. Now."

"Yes, mother," I said with a roll of my eyes, briefly wondering why the sunlight didn't feel as warm as it had a second ago. We'd barely pried open the door and stepped inside the unbelievably hot Greyhound when the engine suddenly rumbled and came back to life with a growl like its namesake waking up from a nap. The driver emerged from under the open hood, wiping his brow and coughing.

The other passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" he yelled, slamming the hood down triumphantly. He quickly jumped onto the bus and into his seat, grinning out the door. "All aboard!"

Once everybody had piled back on, the Greyhound rumbled down the road again, and cooled down considerably. Even once it had gotten back to a normal temperature, though, I felt strangely feverish—sickly hot and freezing cold at the same time.

Grover didn't look any better than I felt. His teeth kept chattering and his hands didn't stop trembling. "Always sixth grade," he muttered, as if I couldn't hear him. "Why sixth?"

I put a hand on his shoulder. He yelped like a ghost had flown through him.

"Are you alright, man?" I asked, worried.

When he looked at me, he was trembling so bad it looked like he might Pogo-stick right out of the bus. "No, Percy," he said seriously. "No, I'm not. Percy, promise me you won't go looking for trouble."

"I'll go looking for trouble when pigs fly," I said flatly.

Grover didn't seem amused. "Not funny, dude. Let me walk you home from the Greyhound station. Promise me."

"Um… alright."

~o~
Okay, I'll admit it: I kind of wanted to ditch Grover. The whole way to the next stop, he kept muttering about sixth grade, and looking at me like I was already in a coffin. I knew his bladder would act up, because it always did when he was nervous, and sure enough, he got up and immediately sprinted for the bathroom at our terminal.

I wanted to ditch him.

But I didn't.

I wasn't sure why, but somehow I felt vulnerable, ever since the bus breaking down. I couldn't shake the cold that had fallen over me like a shroud. I wanted Grover's company more than I wanted to leave him, even in spite of how he seemed to be mentally preparing my funeral. So I waited for Grover to do his thing and stared with an inexplicable paranoia at all of the people milling around the terminal. When he came out a minute later, we caught a taxi and stuffed our suitcases inside, us following them.

"East One-Hundred-and-Fourth and First," I told the driver.

It took us a while, but we finally reached our stop. I paid the driver with my last twenty, and we wheeled our suitcases into my apartment building. We lugged them up to my apartment and I opened the door, ushering Grover inside.

"Feel free to stay a while," I told him. "If she's home from work, Mom won't let you leave without hearing your life story and showing you all my baby pictures anyway."

"Sure," Grover said, smiling. He looked better than he had on the bus. He'd managed to calm down during the taxi ride over. He still was kind of ashen-faced, but he wasn't muttering nonstop anymore. "I don't have a lot I was gonna do, so it's fine."

"I'm home!" I called, stepping in.

Immediately, I coughed. Smoke hung in the air, the smell of third-rate beer mixing in with it and making it even worse. Grover wrinkled his nose in disgust. The living room was dimly lit, and ESPN blared on the TV at full volume. The carpet was littered with empty beer cans and stray chips.

"Looks like Smelly Gabe's having a poker party again," I muttered to Grover, frowning at the four men sitting around the table in the center of the living room. My aforementioned step father was one of these four, chubby and stinking up the place like a skunk with bad breath. He wore cheap thrift store clothes, the kind that don't even pretend the person wearing them is wealthy. The three hairs on his head that had yet to lose the battle to balding were combed back in a poor effort to make him appear handsome.

The other people playing poker were just a few of Gabe's friends from the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, where he managed the store. The only one of his friends' names that I remembered was Eddie, who was the only one of the four men who'd ever been the least bit nice to me. When he was here, he would at least try to calm my stepfather down when he'd get angry at me. I felt bad for him that he'd gotten himself involved with people like that. It was going to bite him in the butt someday.

Gabe didn't even look up. "You got money?"

Grover gaped. "Excuse me? You see your stepson for the first time in months and all you say is, You got money?"

"Eh?" That drew the resident walrus's attention. Eddie locked eyes with Grover and cut his hand across his neck, trying to signal for my friend to not go any further. Gabe looked over at us and frowned. "So you brought a friend, kid?" He stood up and frowned at my fellow middle schooler. "Something wrong with your leg there, slick?"

"Yeah, I brought a friend," I said, a growl entering my voice, "and that's none of your business. Come on, Grover, let's go to my room."

My obviously drunk stepfather watched us move to my room, no doubt considering whether to steal whatever remaining money I had from the taxi like he usually did. Then his eyes fell on Grover again and he sat back down. "I wouldn't be sounding so smart if I were you!" he warned me through his cigar as he returned to his poker game. "Your report card came home, brain boy. I saw that F in English."

I'm dyslexic, I thought furiously. It's a miracle that I got any of the questions in English right at all!

My friend beside me scowled. "Is he always like this?" he demanded, plugging his nose from the stench and shaking with anger.

"Usually worse," I sighed. "He didn't take my money today."

"Blaa-ha-ha!" Grover's fist shook with fury. "Percy, you've been having to live with this your whole life?"

I opened the door, and we were immediately hit by the stench of Gabe, as if it hadn't already been stuffing our noses from the moment we'd walked into the door.

Grover actually gagged as we walked in my room and shut the door. He quickly scampered over to the window, avoiding the beer cans, bottles, and old car magazines that Gabe had strewn about all over my carpet. "I'm sorry, Percy, but I can't handle this smell any longer," he choked out, flicking up the latch. "I need to open this window. I need fresh air."

I groaned, made room on my bed by shoving aside a stack of magazines I'd never touched in my life, and nodded. "You and me both. I can't stand his cologne or the stink of those cigars. He literally couldn't be more gross if he tried."

"You weren't lying when you called him Smelly Gabe," my best friend grumbled. He drew in a long, relieved breath as a nice breeze of fresh, unsmelly air trickled into my room and, bit by bit, washed away the smell of nastiness in human form. "How have you been able to stand him?"

"I haven't," I hissed, glaring at my shut door. "I wish he'd never entered my mom's life. It's always like a pigsty in here, because he's just that. A pig. It's my mom who's put up with him, not me."

The other boy's eyes widened, and something like… realization passed over his face. "Oh. I see."

"My mom doesn't deserve him." I punched my bed, imagining it was Gabe's face. "She deserves, like… a prince or something."

Grover stood smiling for a moment, then pointed at our suitcases, which we'd left leaning against the wall by my door. "What should we do with those?" he wondered.

I shrugged. "Just leave them be for now."

At that moment, the door opened, and my mom stepped through with a smile brighter than a thousand suns. Instantly, all of my anger at Gabe melted away like butter in a microwave, replaced with nothing but fuzzy, warm love for the nicest person in the entire world. I felt more relaxed than I had in months. I heard Grover's breath hitch.

"Hello, Percy," she said, holding up bags of blue candy and shaking them. "I brought home free samples!" Then she looked to my left, where Grover stood with wide, awed eyes, and she stood upright in surprise. A moment later, her bright smile returned. "And who might this be? Won't you introduce me to your friend, sweety?"

A blush immediately flooded my cheeks. "Mom! Don't call me that, that's embarrassing!"

Grover straightened his back. "My name is Grover Underwood, ma'am," he said. I could tell he was much more relaxed now, far less angry about Gabe. My mother just had that effect on people; a single smile from her could warm even the coldest hearts.

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up with recognition. I'd written her many letters about my life at boarding school (terrible spelling mistakes no doubt riddled throughout them), and Grover had been in a lot of them. "So you're the famous Grover I've heard so much about. I'm glad my son has found such a well-mannered young man for a friend."

Now we were both blushing.

"I'm sorry I came here without your permission, Mrs. Jackson," he began, "but we encountered a bit of a… problem on the Greyhound."

My mother's eyes widened and her face paled. "What happened?"

"Nothing too serious," I mumbled, frowning at Grover and hitting him lightly on his arm. He didn't have to make Mom worry like that. "The bus broke down for a few minutes and we had to get out. Nothing more than that happened."

"Tell her about the ladies, Percy," Grover prodded. Mom's brow wrinkled with concern.
I rolled my eyes, somewhat nervous on the inside. I didn't want to talk to her about it, because frankly, after we'd left that fruit stall, I'd realized that I had been terrified of those three knitting grandmas. Even though they hadn't even done anything, ripples of fear had swept over me since witnessing them cut the string.

Mom's gaze fell on me, and something about the fear in her voice made me unable to not listen to her. "What ladies, Percy?" she demanded.

Now I was getting scared all over again. I'd practically never seen my mother afraid my whole life. Sad, angry, disappointed, yes, but almost never fearful. The only times she had been was when I told her about that weird guy who I swore to this day had just one eye staring at me through my elementary school window, or when she'd found little little kid me strangling a venomous snake with my meaty toddler hands.

I chewed on my lower lip and rubbed my arm. "There were three old ladies at a fruit stall across the road from us when we got off the bus. They were knitting a big pair of socks, and the woman in the middle cut two pieces of her yarn."

"Two?" Mom stared. "You're certain it was two?"

"Y-Yes." I was very scared now. Mom was somewhere between extreme fear and extreme confusion.

She was silent for a few minutes, then sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "Percy… I'm so sorry. I had planned to take us to Montauk today. I'd rented out our usual cabin and everything…" Her eyes grew downcast. "But it looks like we'll have to wait to do that. I thought if I could keep you by my side, you'd be safe, but…"

"Safe?" My voice cracked. "Safe from what?" I looked at Grover, who wouldn't meet my eyes. "Do you know what she's talking about?"

"Percy, your dad wanted you to go to summer camp," Mom said when Grover didn't speak. She opened the door again and beckoned us out. "It's the only safe place for kids… kids like you."

"Kids like me?" I demanded, my voice rising with sudden hurt. "What do you mean?" And a summer camp… my mind jumped. "Do you mean Camp Half-Blood?"

"What!?" Mom stared. "How do you know about it?" She gave a suspicious frown to Grover.
"My teacher at school, Mr. Brunner, told me about it," I said, reassuring her. "What's so special about it?"

She looked thoughtful at that, but sighed and shook her head. "We can't explain it here. They might smell you otherwise, and if they do, then we'll have a hard time getting away."

"Who will smell me? Get away from what? Can somebody please give me some answers!?"
Mom shook her head sadly and left the bedroom. "Percy, Grover, grab your suitcases. We need to leave, now."

My mom's voice had a sense of urgency to it I'd never heard before. Immediately, we both got up and grabbed our suitcases before following her into the still-smelly living room, where Gabe's poker party remained raging on.

"Gabe, the boys and I are leaving," she said hastily. "I'm taking Percy to a summer camp."
Gabe stood up immediately, furious. My mom flinched. "What? But we're in the middle of our poker game! Who's going to make us bean dip, Sally?"

"I will when I get home," Mom growled, and everyone in the room was surprised by the ferocity of her glare. "We will be gone for about an hour, maybe more. Once I get back, I will make triple the amount of bean dip as usual. Seven layers. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Gabe hesitated, looked at Grover and I, looked at his friends, and then frowned at my mom, who flinched again. Why was she reacting like that?

"That car better not have a scratch on it," my stepfather said testily to me. "Not. A. Scratch."
Grover did his funny little angry bleat. "Blaa-ha-ha! It's not like Percy'll be driving the thing!"
"Can it, wise-ass, or I might not let you in this apartment anymore," Gabe returned evilly.

I opened my mouth to protest his treatment of my friend, but Mom shook her head warningly at us and we both calmed down. Don't upset Gabe when he just gave us permission to ride in his Camaro. The message came across crystal clear.

We threw open the door to the stairwell, raced down it without worrying about the incessant bonks and bangs created by Grover's and my suitcases bouncing down the stairs, and ran as quickly as we could to the bottom of the apartment building. Once we got to the Camaro, Grover and I fit our suitcases into the trunk, piled in the back, and snapped on our seat belts. After my mother handed us some blue candy for the road, she hit the gas.

The whole way to Camp Half-Blood, my mother clenched the wheel like someone afraid of heights might tightly grip the railing of a high bridge or of the viewing platforms on the Empire State Building. Grover and I chewed on our blue food, but even the deliciousness of pure sugar and fat couldn't distract me from my confusion.

"Can somebody please tell me what's going on?" I demanded at last, as we drove up into a hilly part of Long Island that was all countryside and nothing else. "You both are acting like my life's in danger and I have no idea why."

"Those old ladies…" Grover shook his head, munching mournfully on a blue twizzler. "They're not good news, Perce. Not good news."

"Have you met them before or something?" I stared at him. "Are they, like, serial killers?"
"You could say that," he said darkly, gazing with a crushing sadness out the window. "Always sixth grade…" he muttered under his breath, so that I could barely catch it.

Whoa.

What?

Was I getting chased by some mass-murdering grandmas, or what? Did they kill their victims by cutting them up with shears and then stuffing their bodies in oversized socks?

Left even more confused than I had been before Grover had said anything, I groaned and banged my head against the back of my seat in frustration. I made a big show out of chewing down some blue jelly beans.

"What about Mrs. Dodds?" I asked, and Grover froze.

"Mrs. Dodds?" my mom called back. "Who's that?"

"She was our Math teacher. She was really mean and gave me a lot of detentions for no reason, but one day this girl I met punched another girl, and Mrs. Dodds dragged her away for it, and then suddenly just vanished." I didn't mention the part about Eve having a sword stuck in her hand and somehow not being injured in the slightest. I didn't want my mom thinking I was completely crazy.

"What!?" Mom turned around quickly, eyes wide. "All of this happened at Yancy?"

"Y-Yeah," I stammered. "And it was really weird, like everyone just forgot about Mrs. Dodds after she disappeared."

She frowned worriedly and faced front again. "I see," she said quietly. "It's a good thing we're not going to Montauk after all."

Several more moments of silence passed. Montauk… the thought of our favorite beach in New York brought up some inner thought within me. While I sat silent, an uncomfortable aura arose in the Camaro. Unable to take the tension anymore, I finished off my jelly beans and sat up straight in my seat. "Mom?" I said, a little nervous about the subject I was going to be bringing up. "Can you tell me about Dad?"

In her reflection in the rear view mirror, I saw her face grow soft, years of stress working to keep our family happy eddying away from her forehead and cheeks. "He was the kindest person in the entire world, Percy," she said gently, keeping her eyes on the road. "He was handsome, intelligent, strong. You're a lot like him, Percy, and not just because you have the same hair and eyes." She paused, perhaps recalling some distant, whimsical memories of happier days before Gabe and poker parties. "If he could see you now, I'm sure he'd be very proud."

"Proud of me?" I repeated, choking on my words. How could he be proud of me? I'd barely passed most of my end-of-the-year exams. I'd failed English altogether. I couldn't pay attention if a gun was pointed to my head and I was told to do so, and I could barely read anything without every letter floating in front of my head.

"Very proud," my mother told me sincerely.

Grover smiled sadly at me. I swallowed a lump in my throat, tears on the edge of my eyes. Blinking, I wiped them away before anyone could notice.

I needed something, anything for a distraction. My eyes happened to catch something standing tall and proud out on nearby hill. Closer inspection told me that it was a pine tree. "What's that pine tree doing out there, you think?" I asked Grover, tapping him on the shoulder and pointing. "It's kind of in the middle of nothing, huh? Weird place for a pine."

My friend's gaze fell on it, and he swallowed. "Um… I… d-don't know," he said guiltily. He quickly faced forward to stare directly at the back of my mom's headrest. With surprise and concern, I noted that tears hung in the corner of his eyes, and his lower lip was quivering. I immediately felt bad. I didn't know why, but for some reason, I felt like seeing that tree was bringing up some bad memories for Grover, and it was my fault.

"Hey, sorry, man," I said, wincing.

He sniffled. "I-I'm okay."

Thankfully, before any awkwardness could rise up between us, Mom pulled over on the side of the road.

"Everybody out!" she said hastily, and Grover and I each opened our doors, unclasped our seatbelts, and jumped out of Smelly Gabe's Camaro. We opened the trunk and pulled out our suitcases. Mom raised a curious eyebrow at Grover. "Are you going here, too, Grover?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I'm a Keeper."

Understanding dawned in her eyes, although mine just narrowed in confusion.

"I see," she said gratefully, and she leaned down to give him a small hug. Her next words were so quiet I almost didn't hear them. "Thank you for keeping my boy safe for me. I cannot repay you enough."

"I-It's alright, ma'am." Grover's ears turned pink.

When my mother released him, she straightened up and smiled proudly at me for a while. Just when I was starting to get embarrassed and antsy, she swept over to give me a tight hug, and kissed me on the forehead. It was still warm when she stood up all the way again.
"I love you, Percy," she said warmly. "Stay safe and take care of yourself. If you can, please come back at the end of summer. You still have a place at Yancy."

I blinked. "Wait. You're not coming with us? But what if there's something you need to—?"

"I'm sorry." She shook her head and opened her car door again. "I can't enter the camp's borders. Only you and Grover can. When you're inside, go up and register at the Big House. Either Chiron or Mr. D will be there. They'll tell you what to do."

I deflated. I'd been hoping that Mom would take us in all the way to Camp Half-Blood. I had no idea what she meant by she couldn't enter the camp's borders, but I didn't want to say goodbye to her already.

"I love you, Mom," I said quietly, leaning forward, standing on my tiptoes, and giving her a goodbye kiss on the cheek, acutely aware of Grover watching us. "Drive safe."

"I will," she promised, and she stepped in her car and closed the door. The engine roared, and she backed up to make a 3-point turn. I watched her drive off sadly, an ache burning in my chest. I always hated to leave her, and having to say goodbye so soon after we'd finally gotten to see each other for the first time in six months hurt like a knife.

Grover patted my back reassuringly. "She'll be fine," he said, his eyes unintentionally flicking to the single pine tree standing on the hill. "Don't worry about her. Come on. Let's go to camp. It's just over this hill." I watched as her car disappeared below the crest of the hill, and with a heavy heart, I nodded, turned around, and wheeled my suitcase down the other side of the hill.

~o~
:: LATER THAT EVENING ::
"Sorry, Gabe. Looks like I'll be later than I said I would be."

The sun beginning to hang low in the sky, the blue Camaro rattled through the streets of a New York town, Sally Jackson completely silent inside. She dared not even breath as she rounded a corner, thinking about what her son had told her.

A monster in the school, she thought furiously. There could be more that Grover was unable to detect. It's harder to pick out the scent of monsters for a satyr when there's multiple targets concealing themselves in a large body. It is very likely that the only reason Percy was able to escape Yancy at all was because of Grover keeping an eye on him, that teacher he told me about who'd mentioned Camp to him, and Gabe's smell covering up his demigod scent. And since Percy could be returning next year, if there's any monsters there when he gets back, he'll be in huge danger. I can't let him go to school anywhere unsafe.

Her car rumbled up to a large building with ornate stone bricks making up its exterior walls and strong columns holding up a pyramid arch for the entrance. Painted above the doors in red and orange were the words Yancy Academy.

Even though it's the end of the year, Sally reasoned as she slowly pulled up to a stop and looked out the window, the faculty should still be around. It's only the last day of school after all. They likely won't let things be until next week. And no monsters will be want me because I'm a mortal.

She scanned the perimeter, looking for any signs of monster activity. No suspicious mounds of dirt in the schoolyard. No mars on the walls. No blood on the columns.

The snorting of a pig happened to catch her ear, along with the flapping of wings, and she rolled down the window to stick her head out of it and looked upwards.

Her eyes widened.

"Echidna's son!" she gasped.

Flying around the top of the school was a huge, pink pig, snorting in annoyance. It was enormous, easily as large as Gabe's stupid Camaro, and its skin appeared quite hard indeed. The moment the word Echidna left her mouth, its attention fell down to her, and she thought she heard it sniff. Apparently unsatisfied, it started to turn away. Then it happened to sniff again, and suddenly it charged down through the air at her.

"What!?" she demanded, quickly turning her key in the ignition. She wasn't a demigod, and she hadn't even said its name—so how had it known where she was?

A raspy gasp escaped her lips.

Percy. She'd been around him a fair bit today and he'd spent six months away from Gabe's stench; it was probably a lot weaker on him then it usually was. Some of his scent must have rubbed off on her, and knowing whose son he was, even a single whiff of it must be incredibly potent. It had probably picked that up from her.

"Come on, come on," she begged, slamming her hand against the wheel. "Start!"

On cue, the engine whined to life, and she slammed down the gas pedal. With a squeal of rubber on pavement, Sally blasted forward, climbing from zero to fifty-five in record time. Screw speed limits; when one's life was on the line because they were being chased by a flying pig of all things, one was very reasonable to throw caution to the wind.

She glanced desperately in the rearview mirror. A cold beat of sweat rolled down her head. It was catching up. How fast could that enormous monster fly?

She stepped up the gas. Sixty, seventy. Sally was lucky that she was driving in the straight, grid-like streets of a quiet suburb. Otherwise she would've had trouble maintaining this speed. But was it even working?

Another glance stolen from the rearview told her that no, no it wasn't. In fact, the Crommyonian Sow was even closer now, closing the distance between them at an incredible pace. And in no time at all, there it was, flying next to her in the other lane of the road. A single beat from its wings was strong enough to shatter her window, glass spraying all over her.

Biting her lip, Sally increased her speed even more. No difference in their chase was made. It was over.

The Sow turned diagonally, gave an almighty flap of its wide wings, and smashed her car door, its snout sticking through the broken window and biting down on her head. It pulled at her hard, and she screamed in pain. The only thing keeping her from being dragged out of the car was her seatbelt.

Her skin curiously glowed yellow. The pig grunted at that; it had no idea why its prey felt as though she were quickly being shrouded in magic.

In the split second left that she had, one more thought shot through Sally's brain: I love you, Percy. I'm sorry.

Then she burst into light and left the car to careen down the road crazily, until it would eventually crash into an oak tree outside someone's house.

Notes