Percy Jackson And The Lightning Thief

Grover Unexpectedly Loses His Trousers

Confession time: I ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal.I know, I know. It was rude. But Grover was freaking me out, looking at melike I was a dead man, muttering, 'Why does this always happen?' and, 'Whydoes it always have to be sixth grade?'Whenever he got upset, Grover's bladder acted up, so I wasn't surprisedwhen, as soon as we got off the bus, he made me promise to wait for him, thenmade a beeline for the restroom. Instead of waiting, I got my suitcase, slippedoutside, and caught the first taxi uptown.'East One Hundred and Fourth and First Avenue,' I told the driver.A word about my mother, before you meet her.Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which justproves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck. Her own parentsdied in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle whodidn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high schoolworking to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writingprogramme. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school in her senioryear to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no familyand no diploma.The only good break she ever got was meeting my dad.I don't have any memories of him, just this sort of warm glow, maybe thebarest trace of his smile. My mom doesn't like to talk about him because itmakes her sad. She has no pictures.See, they weren't married. She told me he was rich and important, and theirrelationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on someimportant journey, and he never came back.Lost at sea, my mom told me. Not dead. Lost at sea.She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, andraised me on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But Iknew I wasn't an easy kid.Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds weknew him, then showed his true colours as a world-class jerk. When I wasyoung, I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. The guyreeked like mouldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts.Between the two of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way SmellyGabe treated her, the way he and I got along... well, when I came home is agood example.I walked into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work.Instead, Smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies.The television was blaring. Crisps and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet.Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, 'So, you're home.''Where's my mom?''Working,' he said. 'You got any cash?'That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been thelast six months?Gabe had put on weight. He looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-storeclothes. He had about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp, asif that made him handsome or something.He managed the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, but he stayed home mostof the time. I don't know why he hadn't been fired long before. He just kept oncollecting pay cheques, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous,and on beer, of course. Always beer. Whenever I was home, he expected me toprovide his gambling funds. He called that our 'guy secret'. Meaning, if I toldmy mom, he would punch my lights out.'I don't have any cash,' I told him.He raised a greasy eyebrow.Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which was surprising, sincehis own smell should've covered up everything else.'You took a taxi from the bus station,' he said. 'Probably paid with a twenty.Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, heought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?'Eddie, the superintendant of the apartment building, looked at me with atwinge of sympathy. 'Come on, Gabe,' he said. 'The kid just got here.''Am I right?' Gabe repeated.Eddie scowled into his bowl of pretzels. The other two guys passed gas inharmony.'Fine,' I said. I dug a wad of dollars out of my pocket and threw the money onthe table. 'I hope you lose.''Your report card came, brain boy!' he shouted after me. 'I wouldn't act sosnooty!'I slammed the door to my room, which really wasn't my room. During schoolmonths, it was Gabe's 'study'. He didn't study anything in there except old carmagazines, but he loved shoving my stuff in the closet, leaving his muddy bootson my windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nastycologne and cigars and stale beer.I dropped my suitcase on the bed. Home sweet home.Gabe's smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs Dodds, or thesound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn.But as soon as I thought that, my legs felt weak. I remembered Grover's lookof panic – how he'd made me promise I wouldn't go home without him. Asudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone – something – was lookingfor me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horribletalons.Then I heard my mom's voice. 'Percy?'She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted.My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyessparkle and change colour in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's gota few grey streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her asold. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me,none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word toanyone, not even me or Gabe.'Oh, Percy.' She hugged me tight. 'I can't believe it. You've grown sinceChristmas!'Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the bestthings in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at thecandy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought me a huge bag of 'free samples', theway she always did when I came home.We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sourstrings, she ran her hand through my hair and demanded to know everything Ihadn't put in my letters. She didn't mention anything about my getting expelled.She didn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing allright?I told her she was smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, Iwas really, really glad to see her.From the other room, Gabe yelled, 'Hey, Sally – how about some bean dip,huh?'I gritted my teeth.My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to amillionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.For her sake, I tried to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy. Itold her I wasn't too down about the expulsion. I'd lasted almost the whole yearthis time. I'd made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. Andhonestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked YancyAcademy. I really had. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convincedmyself. I started choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr Brunner. EvenNancy Bobofitt suddenly didn't seem so bad.Until that trip to the museum...'What?' my mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull outthe secrets. 'Did something scare you?''No, Mom.'I felt bad lying. I wanted to tell her about Mrs Dodds and the three old ladieswith the yarn, but I thought it would sound stupid.She pursed her lips. She knew I was holding back, but she didn't push me.'I have a surprise for you,'she said. 'We're going to the beach.'My eyes widened. 'Montauk?''Three nights – same cabin.''When?'She smiled. 'As soon as I get changed.'I couldn't believe it. My mom and I hadn't been to Montauk the last twosummers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money.Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, 'Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hearme?'I wanted to punch him, but I met my mom's eyes and I understood she wasoffering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready toleave for Montauk. Then we would get out of here.'I was on my way, honey,'she told Gabe. 'We were just talking about the trip.'Gabe's eyes got small. 'The trip? You mean you were serious about that?''I knew it,' I muttered. 'He won't let us go.''Of course he will,' my mom said evenly. 'Your stepfather is just worriedabout money. That's all. Besides,' she added, 'Gabriel won't have to settle forbean dip. I'll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend.Guacamole. Sour cream. The works.'Gabe softened a bit. 'So this money for your trip... it comes out of yourclothes budget, right?''Yes, honey,' my mother said.'And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back.''We'll be very careful.'Gabe scratched his double chin. 'Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layerdip... And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game.'Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing sopranofor a week.But my mom's eyes warned me not to make him mad.Why did she put up with this guy? I wanted to scream. Why did she care whathe thought?'I'm sorry,' I muttered. 'I'm really sorry I interrupted your incrediblyimportant poker game. Please go back to it right now.'Gabe's eyes narrowed. His tiny brain was probably trying to detect sarcasm inmy statement.'Yeah, whatever,' he decided.He went back to his game.'Thank you, Percy,' my mom said. 'Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk moreabout... whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?'For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes – the same fear I'd seen inGrover during the bus ride – as if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air.But then her smile returned, and I figured I must have been mistaken. Sheruffled my hair and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip.An hour later we were ready to leave.Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch me lug mymom's bags to the car. He kept griping and groaning about losing her cooking –and more important, his '78 Camaro – for the whole weekend.'Not a scratch on this car, brain boy,' he warned me as I loaded the last bag.'Not one little scratch.'Like I'd be the one driving. I was twelve. But that didn't matter to Gabe. If aseagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame me.Watching him lumber back towards the apartment building, I got so mad I didsomething I can't explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, I made the handgesture I'd seen Grover make on the bus, a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, aclawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement towards Gabe. The screendoor slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up thestaircase as if he'd been shot from a cannon. Maybe it was just the wind, or somefreak accident with the hinges, but I didn't stay long enough to find out.I got in the Camaro and told my mom to step on it.Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It wasa little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There wasalways sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time thesea was too cold to swim in.I loved the place.We'd been going there since I was a baby. My mom had been going evenlonger. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. Itwas the place where she'd met my dad.As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worryand work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the colour of the sea.We got there at sunset, opened all the cabin's windows, and went through ourusual cleaning routine. We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to theseagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the otherfree samples my mom had brought from work.I guess I should explain the blue food.See, Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had thisfight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time. But ever since, mymom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixedblueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home bluecandy from the shop. This – along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson,rather than calling herself Mrs Ugliano – was proof that she wasn't totallysuckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like me.When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows.Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died inthe plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday, whenshe had enough money to quit the candy shop.Eventually, I got up the nerve to ask about what was always on my mindwhenever we came to Montauk – my father. Mom's eyes went all misty. Ifigured she would tell me the same things she always did, but I never got tired ofhearing them.'He was kind, Percy,' she said. 'Tall, handsome and powerful. But gentle, too.You have his black hair, you know, and his green eyes.'Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. 'I wish he could see you,Percy. He would be so proud.'I wondered how she could say that. What was so great about me? A dyslexic,hyperactive boy with a D+ report card, kicked out of school for the sixth time insix years.'How old was I?' I asked. 'I mean... when he left?'She watched the flames. 'He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Righthere at this beach. This cabin.''But... he knew me as a baby.''No, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had toleave before you were born.'I tried to square that with the fact that I seemed to remember... somethingabout my father. A warm glow. A smile.I had always assumed he knew me as a baby. My mom had never said itoutright, but still, I'd felt it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never evenseen me...I felt angry at my father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resented him for going onthat ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry my mom. He'd left us, andnow we were stuck with Smelly Gabe.'Are you going to send me away again?' I asked her. 'To another boardingschool?'She pulled a marshmallow from the fire.'I don't know, honey.' Her voice was heavy. 'I think... I think we'll have to dosomething.''Because you don't want me around?' I regretted the words as soon as theywere out.My mom's eyes welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezed it tight. 'Oh,Percy, no. I – I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away.'Her words reminded me of what Mr Brunner had said – that it was best for meto leave Yancy.'Because I'm not normal,' I said.'You say that as if it's a bad thing, Percy. But you don't realize how importantyou are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'dfinally be safe.''Safe from what?'She met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me – all the weird,scary things that had ever happened to me, some of which I'd tried to forget.During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on theplayground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went awaygrowling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broadbrimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.Before that – a really early memory. I was in pre school, and a teacheraccidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. Mymom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp,scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddlerhands.In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe,and I was forced to move.I knew I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and MrsDodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced mymaths teacher into dust with a sword. But I couldn't make myself tell her. I had astrange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didn't want that.'I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could,' my mom said. 'They told methat was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy – the place yourfather wanted to send you. And I just... I just can't stand to do it.''My father wanted me to go to a special school?''Not a school,'she said softly. 'A summer camp.'My head was spinning. Why would my dad – who hadn't even stayed aroundlong enough to see me born – talk to my mom about a summer camp? And if itwas so important, why hadn't she ever mentioned it before?'I'm sorry, Percy,' she said, seeing the look in my eyes. 'But I can't talk aboutit. I – I couldn't send you to that place. It might mean saying goodbye to you forgood.''For good? But if it's only a summer camp...'She turned towards the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked herany more questions she would start to cry.That night I had a vivid dream.It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse and agolden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagleswooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horsereared up and kicked at the eagle's wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled,and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading theanimals to fight harder.I ran towards them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but Iwas running in slow motion. I knew I would be too late. I saw the eagle divedown, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I screamed, No!I woke with a start.Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blowsdown houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning makingfalse daylight, and five-metre-high waves pounding the dunes like artillery.With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said,'Hurricane.'I knew that was crazy. Long Island never saw hurricanes this early in thesummer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, Iheard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end.Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice –someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.My mother sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock.Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. Buthe wasn't... he wasn't exactly Grover.'Searching all night,' he gasped. 'What were you thinking?'My mother looked at me in terror – not scared of Grover, but of why he'dcome.'Percy,' she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. 'What happened atschool? What didn't you tell me?'I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldn't understand what I was seeing.'O Zeu kai alloi theoi!' he yelled. 'It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?'I was too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'dunderstood him perfectly. I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had got hereby himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover didn't have his trousers on– and where his legs should be... where his legs should be...My mom looked at me sternly and talked in a tone she'd never usedbefore:'Percy. Tell me now!'I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs Dodds,and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.She grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket, and said, 'Get to the car.Both of you. Go!'Grover ran for the Camaro – but he wasn't running, exactly. He was trotting,shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a musculardisorder in his legs made sense to me. I understood how he could run so fast andstill limp when he walked.Because where his feet should be, there were no feet. There were clovenhooves.