LUNACY; percy jackson

chapter 9

[act one; chapter nine     -     to be stretched thin]

    The war god was waiting for them in the diner parking lot.

    "Well, well," he said. "You didn't get yourself killed."

    "You knew it was a trap," Percy said with conviction, his anger boiling higher and higher from within.

    Ares gave the boy a wicked grin, one that said 'I'm the adult, you're the kid'. "Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV."

    Percy shoved the shield at him. "And you're a jerk."

    While Annabeth and Grover seemed to hold their breaths, Andromeda stood just behind Percy, just enough for Ares to be able to see her. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes set, jaw wound tight. For a brief moment, Percy forgot she could feel his emotions, which made him wonder if his anger was also hers. Maybe it was.

    Ares grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. He slung it across his back.

    "See that truck over there?" He pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street from the diner. "That's your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas."

    The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back, which Andromeda could read only because it was reverse-printed white on black, a good combination for dyslexia: KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.

    Percy turned back to the god, mouth agape, and said, "You're kidding."

    Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched almost immediately. "Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."

    He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it at Percy. Inside were fresh clothes for all of them, twenty bucks in cash, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuf Oreos.

    But Percy shook his head defiantly and said, "I don't want your lousy—"

    "Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover interrupted, giving Percy his best red-alert warning look, putting a hand out in front of his friend. "Thanks a lot."

     Andromeda watched Percy as he gritted his teeth, his jaw wound tight. She knew it wouldn't end well if he denied the backpack and she could tell his anger was beginning to get the best of him, no doubt fogging everything in his brain that told him to regulate his emotions, to control how, exactly, he behaved and operated.