Chapter 4

“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. 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?”

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