Chapter 2

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. 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.

“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.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who’d been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled

his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

“What ho, Percy!” he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.

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.

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.

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.

I was alone.

There was a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner wasn’t there. Nobody was there but me.

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.

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

Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?”

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