Book 1 - The Constriction in Breathing Air

Chapter 3

Mrs. Dodds apparently didn't exist, according to Grover, Mr. Brunner, and everyone at Yancy.

Percy didn't know what was funnier, pretending she didn't or mentioning she did. It certainly made Grover sweat, but he had yet to get Mr. Brunner to trip up.

He was sure the teacher was having just as much fun as he was. It was in the twinkle in his eye every time Percy opened his mouth. He had asked Percy for his pen back and though Percy had been reluctant, he'd handed it over.

Despite his good behaviour, something happened in the last few days which got Percy called to the office and subsequently told he was not going to be allowed back.

The excuse, something about him making too many students feel unsafe, had felt weak at best and just downright rude at worst, and everyone present had known it. Percy had shrugged off any attempts to comfort him from Grover and collected his things.

It was no lost-love on his part, he was just upset that his mom would be disappointed.

He boarded the bus with joy though, because he was going to get to see his mom for the first time since visiting day a month before. Grover followed on his heels, chatting his ear off about summer camp again.

The bus cranked to a stop not even half-way there.

They climbed off on the driver's orders, standing a little ways out of the way. Percy glanced around as the smell of thread hit his nose.

"Oh," he said, and Grover followed his line of sight to three old ladies sitting on a bench across the road.

The one on the left was knitting a sock, while the one in the middle measured the length of it out. The last held a pair of scissors.

For a moment, it was like they were looking straight at him.

They were smiling.

Grover coughed his nervous cough, the one that sounded a little like a stuttered bleat, though Percy would never tell him that.

"Percy," he hissed, "let's get back on the bus."

"We can't do that." He pointed lazily at the smoking bus and confused driver. "You think that sock would fit me? It's pretty big."

"Percy!" Grover pleaded.

"What pretty thread," Percy mused, "so very blue."

It was an enchanting colour, not too deep nor too light, a perfect balance of a clear sky on a sunny day. It smelled like a blast of clear wind on a warm day, carrying the faint smell of strawberries and dirt.

Next to him, Grover started hyperventilating.

Percy watched, hypnotised, as the one with the scissors reached out and—

Snip.

Even across the multiple lanes of traffic, cars speeding by, Percy could swear he felt the thread snap.

The three old ladies moved as one. The one on the end finished up their project, the one in the middle rewound the thread, and the last put away the scissors.

He blinked and they were gone.

The bus driver called out for them to board; some people cheered.

They got back on board.

"You okay, Grover?" He made sure to ask as they returned to their seats.

Grover made a few signs in front of him in reply. He was pretty sure they were funeral rites, or something of the like.

How comforting.

Percy, feeling a little bad, bolted the moment Grover left him alone at the next stop he could. He caught a cab home instead, almost vibrating in his seat as they neared his apartment.