Sing, O Muse [Percy Jackson]

eight

CAR-RIDES, to Clarion, spelled discourse. In her father's navy-blue car, the rule was quickly established: no books for her, and no toys longer than a foot for Winnie. The combination of the eldest Jung daughter's motion-sickness and the youngest's irksome propensity for hitting her sister sparked their fiery quarrels, which were only accelerated once Quentin raised his voice and glowered at them through the rear-view mirror. He soon stopped having to say the words: don't make me pull this car over.

    People trapped in a small metal box could only stay civil for so long. The last time Clarion fastened her seat-belt and hoped for peace, the head of Camp security drove the Jung sisters and Grover to Camp. Argos, whose every inch of free skin was covered in green eyes, needed only position the eyes on the side of his neck to grant the sisters a side-glare far more threatening than their father's.

    Her companions were at each other's throats even before they entered the white van; climbing inside seemed far less inviting than the Air and Space Museum guards, but she would've volunteered to sit in the middle if only to get away from the skeletal soldiers, with lamp-like orange eyes that blinded the sun, lining the lawn. Their approach was lackadaisical; were they oblivious to the six teenagers racing across the street towards their illegally-parked van? Or did the skeletons know the final note would eventually ring and fade no matter the tempo?

It took less than ten minutes until Clarion wanted to say she would prefer Thalia behind the wheel; the final straw was after Zoё changed lanes without signaling and rolled down the window to shake her fist at the car she almost hit. The Muse's daughter whispered this much to Bianca, who sat beside her in the very back of the white van; but when the new Hunter told her about Thalia's experience driving the sun chariot, Clarion was exponentially less certain – especially when Thalia swiveled around upon hearing her name and demanded to know what they were talking about.

    Clarion's hand flew to the handle on the roof of the car as Zoё honked the horn and swerved around another car (it was fifteen miles over the speed limit). Mostly wanting Thalia's electric gaze off her, and to keep the car peaceful for as long as she could, she easily deflected, "I was telling her about how you saved my ass from the Nemean Lion with your shield, and I asked her to remind me to make sure I detail your shield thoroughly. I tried taking notes, but apparently I get motion-sick even when writing."

    Thalia grimaced and turned back to the road. It was only a few minutes ago they all screamed for her to put away her notebook before she threw up. "Please, please don't puke – because then I'll puke."

    "No one will throw up while I am driving," Zoё commanded.

    "I won't," Clarion whined, "Promise."

    The way Zoё's pressure on the gas grew made her less certain. They crossed the Potomac river when Percy, from the middle row, jabbed his finger against the window. "Look – that's the same helicopter we saw at Westover Hall."

    Clarion would have to take their word for it as she leaned closer to Bianca to peer out the window. It didn't look suspicious to her. The helicopter was sleek and black like a military craft, and it flew straight towards them.

    Percy cursed. "They know the van. We have to ditch it."

    Clarion's brows rose, and she couldn't stop the shock from spreading across her face. Anxiety crushed her stomach in its fist. Were all quests like this? Was she in a spy movie? It was laughable, but she certainly felt like it as Zoё swerved into the fast lane and the car accelerated so rapidly they were forced against the leather seats like a roller coaster. Even with her lead foot, the helicopter gained on them.