Chapter Text
*Percy*
Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. Mainly because most half-bloods I heard about or personally knew after learning I was one either died before hitting 20, went completely crazy, or went evil... or all three.
To whoever reads this, I tell you: if you have the slightest suspicion that you're like me, like Allison, or even Jack, drop the book, burn it, and forget you ever found it, because not knowing is better than living like you're constantly about to die.
My name is Percy Jackson, I'm twelve years old, and until a few months back, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy for troubled kids upstate in New York.
Was I a troubled kid?
Yeah, you could say that.
I could start by telling you about any of the misadventures I had in my short life to prove it, but I guess I should start with how it all began.
It started last May when my sixth-grade class at Yancy went on a field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. We were there to learn about ancient Greek and Roman culture, and all kinds of other old stuff.
Sounds boring, right? It might’ve been, except my favorite teacher, Mr. Brunner, was leading the trip.
Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning gray hair and a scruffy beard and always wore this old, frayed tweed jacket that smelled like coffee. You wouldn’t think he’d be cool, but he let us play games in class and told stories that actually made Latin interesting. Plus, he had an awesome collection of Greek and Roman weapons and armor.
I thought this field trip would be fine. At least, I thought there was no way it could turn out as bad as some of my other trips—like the time I accidentally shot the school bus with a Revolutionary War cannon or when I sent my class on an unplanned swim into a shark tank.
It wasn’t like those times.
It was worse.
The trouble started when Nancy Bobofit, this red-haired kleptomaniac girl, decided to start throwing chunks of her peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich at my best friend, Grover.
Grover was scrawny and an easy target. He must’ve been held back a few grades because he was the only sixth-grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard. He also walked with crutches because of some muscle disease. But don’t let that fool you—he could move fast when enchiladas were on the cafeteria menu.
Nancy nailed Grover right in the head with a sandwich chunk, and it got stuck in his curly hair.
“I’m gonna kill her,” I said, standing up.
Grover grabbed my arm and pulled me back down. “No, no. It’s fine. I like peanut butter.” He ducked another piece of Nancy’s lunch. “Besides, if you get in trouble, the headmaster’s gonna blame you. You know that.”
He was right.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about how Jack would’ve handled Nancy. Jack had a way of making sure people who deserved it got what was coming to them, even if his methods were... extreme. There was this one time a kid stuffed Jack into a locker. Instead of fighting back, Jack figured out the kid was deathly afraid of snakes. A week later, two dozen snakes mysteriously appeared in the guy’s dorm room. He had to transfer schools after that. Allison gave Jack an earful when she found out, but Jack just laughed it off.
As I sat there trying to tune out Nancy’s snickering, Mr. Brunner called us all to gather around a display.
“Now, class,” he said, pointing to a marble statue of a young girl, “can anyone tell me what this represents?”
Mr. Brunner led us through the exhibits until we reached a painting that caught everyone’s attention. It was dark, creepy, and definitely not something you’d want hanging over your fireplace.
The painting showed a massive figure, half-human, half-monster, devouring another person whole.
“Mr. Jackson,” Mr. Brunner said, turning to me, “can you tell us what this is?”
For a moment, my brain froze. I knew this one, didn’t I? Then it clicked.
“That’s Cronos, right? Eating his kids?” I said.
Mr. Brunner nodded. “Correct. And why would he do such a thing?”
I hesitated, but then the answer spilled out. “Uh, because he didn’t trust his kids? They were gods, and he was afraid they’d overthrow him. So, he ate them whole, but they didn’t die because they were immortal. Later, Zeus tricked him into barfing them back up.”
The class murmured.
“Ew!” one of the girls said.
“That’s disgusting,” Nancy whispered, but she still sounded fascinated.
Mr. Brunner smiled slightly. “And what happened after that?”
I was getting into it now. “Well, there was this big war between the gods and the Titans. The gods won, and they sliced Cronos into pieces with his own scythe. Then they scattered his remains in Tartarus, the deepest part of the Underworld.”
Mr. Brunner beamed at me, which felt pretty good, even if Nancy was rolling her eyes.
“Excellent, Mr. Jackson. And why,” he continued, “is it important for us to understand this story?”
I faltered. “I... uh... don’t know, sir.”
His expression turned serious. “Because, Mr. Jackson, knowledge of the past is essential for understanding the present. Without understanding their history, the gods—like humanity—would have been doomed to repeat their mistakes.”
That answer felt too heavy for a simple field trip. I didn’t know why, but it sent a shiver down my spine.
“All right, class,” Mr. Brunner said, clapping his hands. “It’s time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you kindly lead the students back outside?”
We all started shuffling toward the exit. Nancy made sure to bump into me on her way past, muttering something nasty under her breath.
I tried to let it go, but the peanut butter she’d thrown earlier was still stuck in Grover’s hair, and I wasn’t in the mood. “You want to say that again?” I said.
Before she could answer, Mrs. Dodds was suddenly right in front of me. I hadn’t even seen her move.
“Now, honey,” she said in that syrupy-sweet voice that meant I was in deep trouble, “why don’t you come with me?”
Great. Just great.
Mrs. Dodds dragged me into an empty room off the main gallery, next to a big marble frieze showing the gods fighting the Titans. She turned to face me, and her expression froze me in place.
“You’ve been causing trouble all year, haven’t you?” she hissed.
“I didn’t do anything,” I stammered, stepping back.
She leaned closer, her eyes gleaming in a way that definitely wasn’t natural. Her voice dropped to a guttural growl.
“Confess. Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
Her body started to change. Her skin shriveled and darkened like old leather. Large, bat-like wings sprouted from her back. She wasn’t human.
I swallowed hard, trying to back away.
“What ho, Percy!”
I recognized Mr. Brunner's voice from the doorway, his face grim. In one swift motion, he tossed something through the air, a pen. I caught it instinctively as it turned into a shimmering bronze sword before my eyes.
Mrs. Dodds lunged at me, her talons outstretched. I barely managed to block her claws. The sword felt strangely balanced, as though it belonged in my hand. I swung it awkwardly, and the blade connected.
With a horrible screech, she exploded into golden dust and vanished.
I stood there, panting, staring at the sword as it shimmered and turned back into a pen.
For a moment, I just stood there in stunned silence. Then I looked toward the doorway. Mr. Brunner was already gone.
I stumbled out of the room still in shock, the pen in my hand, searching for him. I found him by the museum steps, calmly chatting with some of the other kids.
“Uh, sir?” I said, holding out the pen.
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Ah, thank you, Percy,” he said, taking it back like I’d just returned a borrowed ruler.
“What... what was that?” I stammered.
“What was what?”
“That thing! Mrs. Dodds—she turned into a monster!”
Mr. Brunner gave me a puzzled look. “Mrs. Dodds? I’m not sure who you mean, Percy. Perhaps you should sit down. You look unwell.”
“But she—she was just here! She dragged me into that room, and—”
“Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds. You’ve been under a great deal of stress. Now, why don’t you rejoin the group? Lunch will do you good.”
I stared at him, speechless, as he turned back to his conversation.
When I got back to the fountain, Grover was sitting on a bench, pale and nervous.
“Nobody’s going to believe me,” I muttered.
Grover avoided my gaze, his hands twisting nervously in his lap.
Nancy Bobofit was laughing with her friends like nothing had happened. Not a single person mentioned Mrs. Dodds.
It was like she had never existed.
The bus ride back to Yancy was uneventful for most, but I couldn’t shake the memory of that monster lunging at me—or the nagging feeling that something worse was coming.
As soon as we got to school and Mr. Brunner and Ms. Kerr—who I could swear hadn’t existed until that day—led us off the bus, I hurried to Jack and Allison’s classroom.
Jack spotted me first. “Percy!” he called out, giving me his usual easygoing grin. “How was the trip?”
There was something in his voice—calm, but with an undercurrent of unease—that told me he was trying to get away from Allison, who was right behind him, glaring at him with the intensity of a hawk eyeing its prey.
I hadn’t even answered yet when she snapped, “Oh, no you don’t!” She grabbed Jack’s shoulder, spinning him toward her. “We’re not done here. I know you cheated on that test!”
Jack barely flinched, shrugging. “Do you have evidence?”
Allison’s glare intensified, but her posture stayed rigid. She was tall, lean, with long black curls and violet eyes that seemed to glow with barely controlled irritation. Her temper wasn’t something to mess with, especially when Jack was involved.
Jack, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed. He had dark hair, long enough to cover his ears, and mismatched eyes—one blue, one red—that always made people stare. Some girls found him striking, but there was an oddness to him, something that didn’t sit right. I could see why they found him attractive, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was... off.
Jack looked over at me, and apparently saw the opportunity to change the subject. “I’ve gotta tell you, Percy, I’m glad Mrs. Dodds went on the trip instead of her replacement. The new teacher? Doesn’t care what I do!”
I couldn’t help it. “Wait... you guys remember Mrs. Dodds? Evil? Leather jacket? Hates every kid in existence?”
They both frowned at me like I’d just grown another head. They shared a quick glance before turning back to me.
“Of course we know Mrs. Dodds,” Allison said slowly, her anger forgotten. “She’s our algebra teacher. We just took a test she made.”
Jack followed up, though his voice had a slightly confused edge. “Yeah... why? Did she—?”
I waved my hand, cutting him off. “Mrs. Dodds, the one who threatened you with sending you back to court if she caught you in one of your schemes again?”
Jack’s confusion deepened, and he hesitated. “Yes, Percy,” he said, as if unsure of how to proceed. “What’s going on?”
I explained everything: the museum, Mrs. Dodds turning into a monster, Brunner throwing me the pen-turned-sword, and the unsettling fact that everyone but me seemed to have forgotten about her.
Allison was the first to react. “What do you mean 'she just vaporized and no one remembered her'?” Her skepticism was clear in her tone.
“I mean exactly what it sounds like!” I exclaimed, desperate for her to believe me, while Jack—serious for once—seemed to consider what I said. “She just vanished... and Brunner acted like his pen wasn’t a sword! Then everyone acted like Ms. Kerr was here from the beginning!”
Jack, who had been quiet through my rant, put his hands on my shoulders. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Breathe in, breathe out, Percy,” he said calmly. I did as he told me until I calmed down, and he continued, “What else? That was Brunner, right? What about... say... Grover?”
“What would Grover have to do with anything—?” Allison started, but I interrupted her with my answer.
“He seemed... oddly insistent...” I paused, thinking it over. I had thought he’d just forgotten, like the rest, but now that I was calmer, “Like he was trying to convince me instead of believing it,” I finished, now suspicious of our other friend.
“Well, that’s just weird...” Jack said, his hand on his chin as he looked thoughtful. “So something’s up, and Grover and Brunner are at the center of it.” He grinned, his mischievous smile already forming like he was planning something.
“Jack,” Allison said firmly, trying to put a stop to him. “Grover is our friend. Why would he try to—”
“Why don’t we ask him?” Jack interrupted, that same mischievous smile spreading. “We all know he couldn’t lie even if his life depended on it.”
I had to agree with him. Grover couldn’t lie, not even a little. But this felt different. “Jack,” I warned, “I don’t think he’ll break as easily on this one.” It was then that Grover himself turned the corner from the hallway and came over to us, clearly unaware of the trouble he was about to be roped into.
Jack gave us a smirk. “Watch and learn,” he said, heading straight for Grover with a determined stride.
A dejected Allison and I followed after him, knowing it was pointless to stop him. Jack had a talent for turning everything into a mess, and this was no exception.