Chapter 19

19. I RUIN A PERFECTLY GOOD BUS

It didn’t take me long to pack. I decided to leave the Minotaur horn in my

cabin, which left me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a

backpack Grover had found for me.

The camp store loaned me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty

golden drachmas.

These coins were as big as Girl Scout cookies and had images of various

Greek gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The

ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron told us, but Olympians never used

less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in handy for non-mortal

transactions—whatever that meant. He gave Annabeth and me each a canteen of

nectar and a Ziploc bag full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if

we were seriously hurt. It was god food, Chiron reminded us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it was lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-

blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally.

Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she told me had been a

twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She carried a book on famous classical

architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and a long bronze

knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I was sure the knife would get us busted the first

time we went through a metal detector.

Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human. He wore a green

rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see

the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples

to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him,

even though he only knew two songs: Mozart’s Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary

Duff’s “So Yesterday,” both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes.

We waved good-bye to the other campers, took one last look at the strawberry

fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hiked up Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine

tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus.

Chiron was waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stood the surfer dude

I’d seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy was

the camp’s head of security.

He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised.

Today, though, he was wearing a chauffeur’s uniform, so I could only see extra

peepers on his hands, face and neck.

“This is Argus,” Chiron told me. “He will drive you into the city, and, er, well,

keep an eye on things.”

I heard footsteps behind us.

Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes.

“Hey!” he panted. “Glad I caught you.”

Annabeth blushed, the way she always did when Luke was around.

“Just wanted to say good luck,” Luke told me. “And I thought ... um, maybe

you could use these.”

He handed me the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. They even smelled

kind of normal.

Luke said, “Maia!”

White bird’s wings sprouted out of the heels, startling me so much, I dropped

them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and

disappeared.

“Awesome!” Grover said.

Luke smiled. “Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad.

Of course, I don’t use them much these days....” His expression turned sad.

I didn’t know what to say. It was cool enough that Luke had come to say good-

bye. I’d been afraid he might resent me for getting so much attention the last few

days. But here he was giving me a magic gift.... It made me blush almost as much as

Annabeth.

“Hey, man,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Listen, Percy ...” Luke looked uncomfortable. “A lot of hopes are riding on

you. So just ...

kill some monsters for me, okay?”

We shook hands. Luke patted Grover’s head between his horns, then gave a

good-bye hug to Annabeth, who looked like she might pass out.

After Luke was gone, I told her, “You’re hyperventilating.”

“Am not.”

“You let him capture the flag instead of you, didn’t you?”

“Oh ... why do I want to go anywhere with you, Percy?”

She stomped down the other side of the hill, where a white SUV waited on the

shoulder of the road. Argus followed, jingling his car keys.

I picked up the flying shoes and had a sudden bad feeling. I looked at Chiron.

“I won’t be able to use these, will I?”

He shook his head. “Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air ... that

would not be wise for you.”

I nodded, disappointed, but then I got an idea. “Hey, Grover. You want a

magic item?”

His eyes lit up. “Me?”

Pretty soon we’d laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world’s first

flying goat boy was ready for launch.

“Maia!” he shouted.

He got off the ground okay, but then fell over sideways so his backpack

dragged through the grass. The winged shoes kept bucking up and down like tiny

broncos.

“Practice,” Chiron called after him. “You just need practice!”

“Aaaaa!” Grover went flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawn

mower, heading toward the van.

Before I could follow, Chiron caught my arm. “I should have trained you

better, Percy,” he said. “If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason—they all got more

training.”

“That’s okay. I just wish—”

I stopped myself because I was about to sound like a brat. I was wishing my

dad had given me a cool magic item to help on the quest, something as good as

Luke’s flying shoes, or Annabeth’s invisible cap.

“What am I thinking?” Chiron cried. “I can’t let you get away without this.”

He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and handed it to me. It was an ordinary

disposable ballpoint, black ink, removable cap. Probably cost thirty cents.

“Gee,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Percy, that’s a gift from your father. I’ve kept it for years, not knowing you

were who I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You are the one.”

I remembered the field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, when I’d

vaporized Mrs.

Dodds. Chiron had thrown me a pen that turned into a sword. Could this be ...

?

I took off the cap, and the pen grew longer and heavier in my hand. In half a

second, I held a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather-

wrapped grip, and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs. It was the first weapon that

actually felt balanced in my hand.

“The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into,” Chiron told

me. “Its name is Anaklusmos.”

“‘Riptide,’“ I translated, surprised the Ancient Greek came so easily.

“Use it only for emergencies,” Chiron said, “and only against monsters. No

hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but this sword

wouldn’t harm them in any case.”

I looked at the wickedly sharp blade. “What do you mean it wouldn’t harm

mortals? How could it not?”

“The sword is celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart

of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It’s deadly to monsters, to any creature

from the Underworld, provided they don’t kill you first. But the blade will pass

through mortals like an illusion. They simply are not important enough for the blade

to kill. And I should warn you: as a demigod, you can be killed by either celestial or

normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable.”

“Good to know.”

“Now recap the pen.”

I touched the pen cap to the sword tip and instantly Riptide shrank to a

ballpoint pen again. I tucked it in my pocket, a little nervous, because I was famous

for losing pens at school.

“You can’t,” Chiron said.

“Can’t what?”

“Lose the pen,” he said. “It is enchanted. It will always reappear in your

pocket. Try it.”

I was wary, but I threw the pen as far as I could down the hill and watched it

disappear in the grass.

“It may take a few moments,” Chiron told me. “Now check your pocket.”

Sure enough, the pen was there.

“Okay, that’s extremely cool,” I admitted. “But what if a mortal sees me

pulling out a sword?”

Chiron smiled. “Mist is a powerful thing, Percy.”

“Mist?”

“Yes. Read The Iliad. It’s full of references to the stuff. Whenever divine or

monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures

the vision of humans.

You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will

interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans

will go to fit things into their version of reality.”

I put Riptide back in my pocket.

For the first time, the quest felt real. I was actually leaving Half-Blood Hill. I

was heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone.

(Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be

worse than sending up a flare.) I had no weapon stronger than a sword to fight off

monsters and reach the Land of the Dead.

“Chiron ...” I said. “When you say the gods are immortal... I mean, there was a

time before them, right?”

“Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age,

sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of

Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age.”

“So what was it like ... before the gods?”

Chiron pursed his lips. “Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but

I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the

Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all

knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your

kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early

reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that

your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical

thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually the

gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born.”

“But the gods can’t die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is

alive, they’re alive. So ... even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess

up everything, right?”

Chiron gave me a melancholy smile. “No one knows how long the Age of the

West will last, Percy. The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They

still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and

punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that

the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the

darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny.”

“Our destiny ... assuming we know what that is.”

“Relax,” Chiron told me. “Keep a clear head. And remember, you may be

about to prevent the biggest war in human history.”

“Relax,” I said. “I’m very relaxed.”

When I got to the bottom of the hill, I looked back. Under the pine tree that

used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron was now standing in full horse-man

form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by

your typical centaur.

* * *

Argus drove us out of the countryside and into western Long Island. It felt

weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Grover sitting next to me as if we

were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seemed

like a fantasy. I found myself staring at every McDonald’s, every kid in the back of

his parents’ car, every billboard and shopping mall.

“So far so good,” I told Annabeth. “Ten miles and not a single monster.”

She gave me an irritated look. “It’s bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain.”

“Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

She folded her cap of invisibility. “Look ... we’re just not supposed to get

along, okay? Our parents are rivals.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught

Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena’s temple, which is hugely disrespectful.

Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of

Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created

the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after

her.”

“They must really like olives.”

“Oh, forget it.”

“Now, if she’d invented pizza— that I could understand.”

“I said, forget it!”

In the front seat, Argus smiled. He didn’t say anything, but one blue eye on the

back of his neck winked at me.

Traffic slowed us down in Queens. By the time we got into Manhattan it was

sunset and starting to rain.

Argus dropped us at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far

from my mom and Gabe’s apartment. Taped to a mailbox was a soggy flyer with my

picture on it: HAVE YOU

SEEN THIS BOY?

I ripped it down before Annabeth and Grover could notice.

Argus unloaded our bags, made sure we got our bus tickets, then drove away,

the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulled out of the parking

lot.

I thought about how close I was to my old apartment. On a normal day, my

mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Gabe was probably up

there right now, playing poker, not even missing her.

Grover shouldered his backpack. He gazed down the street in the direction I

was looking.

“You want to know why she married him, Percy?”

I stared at him. “Were you reading my mind or something?”

“Just your emotions.” He shrugged. “Guess I forgot to tell you satyrs can do

that. You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?”

I nodded, wondering what else Grover might’ve forgotten to tell me.

“Your mom married Gabe for you,” Grover told me. “You call him ‘Smelly,’

but you’ve got no idea. The guy has this aura…. Yuck. I can smell him from here. I

can smell traces of him on you, and you haven’t been near him for a week.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Where’s the nearest shower?”

“You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human

he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his

Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn’t lived

with him every summer, you probably would’ve been found by monsters a long time

ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must’ve

loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better.”

It didn’t, but I forced myself not to show it. I’ll see her again, I thought. She

isn’t gone.

I wondered if Grover could still read my emotions, mixed up as they were. I

was glad he and Annabeth were with me, but I felt guilty that I hadn’t been straight

with them. I hadn’t told them the real reason I’d said yes to this crazy quest.

The truth was, I didn’t care about retrieving Zeus’s lightning bolt, or saving

the world, or even helping my father out of trouble. The more I thought about it, I

resented Poseidon for never visiting me, never helping my mom, never even sending

a lousy child-support check. He’d only claimed me because he needed a job done.

All I cared about was my mom. Hades had taken her unfairly, and Hades was

going to give her back.

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, the Oracle whispered in

my mind. You will fail to save what matters most in the end.

Shut up, I told it.

The rain kept coming down.

We got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with

one of Grover’s apples. Annabeth was unbelievable. She could bounce the apple off

her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. I wasn’t too bad myself.

The game ended when I tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to

his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappeared—core, stem, and all.

Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but Annabeth and I were too busy

cracking up.

Finally the bus came. As we stood in line to board, Grover started looking

around, sniffing the air like he smelled his favorite school cafeteria delicacy—

enchiladas.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said tensely. “Maybe it’s nothing.”

But I could tell it wasn’t nothing. I started looking over my shoulder, too.

I was relieved when we finally got on board and found seats together in the

back of the bus.

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