by Rick Riordan
My ears pounded. My vision went foggy. The water, I thought. It had healed me before.
I stumbled to the creek and submerged my hand, but nothing seemed to happen. The poison was too strong. My vision was getting dark. I could barely stand up.
Sixty seconds, Luke had told me.
I had to get back to camp. If I collapsed out here, my body would be dinner for a monster. Nobody would ever know what had happened.
My legs felt like lead. My forehead was burning. I stumbled towards the camp, and the nymphs stirred from their trees.
‘Help,’ I croaked. ‘Please…’
Two of them took my arms, pulling me along. I remember making it to the clearing, a counsellor shouting for help, a centaur blowing a conch horn.
Then everything went black.
* * *
I woke with a drinking straw in my mouth. I was sipping something that tasted like liquid chocolate-chip cookies.
Nectar.
I opened my eyes.
I was propped up in bed in the sickroom of the Big House, my right hand bandaged like a club. Argus stood guard in the corner. Annabeth sat next to me, holding my nectar glass and dabbing a washcloth on my forehead.
‘Here we are again,’ I said.
‘You idiot,’ Annabeth said, which is how I knew she was overjoyed to see me conscious. ‘You were green and turning grey when we found you. If it weren’t for Chiron’s healing…’
‘Now, now,’ Chiron’s voice said. ‘Percy’s constitution deserves some of the credit.’
He was sitting near the foot of my bed in human form, which was why I hadn’t noticed him yet. His lower half was magically compacted into the wheelchair, his upper half dressed in a coat and tie. He smiled, but his face looked weary and pale, the way it did when he’d been up all night grading Latin papers.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved.’
‘Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom. Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened.’
Between sips of nectar, I told them the story.
The room was quiet for a long time.
‘I can’t believe that Luke…’ Annabeth’s voice faltered. Her expression turned angry and sad. ‘Yes. Yes, I can believe it. May the gods curse him… He was never the same after his quest.’
‘This must be reported to Olympus,’ Chiron murmured. ‘I will go at once.’
‘Luke is out there right now,’ I said. ‘I have to go after him.’
Chiron shook his head. ‘No, Percy. The gods –’
‘Won’t even talk about Kronos,’ I snapped. ‘Zeus declared the matter closed!’
‘Percy, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren’t ready.’
I didn’t like it, but part of me suspected Chiron was right. One look at my hand, and I knew I wasn’t going to be sword fighting any time soon. ‘Chiron… your prophecy from the Oracle… it was about Kronos, wasn’t it? Was I in it? And Annabeth?’
Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. ‘Percy, it isn’t my place –’
‘You’ve been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven’t you?’
His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. ‘You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I’m right about the path ahead of you…’
Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows.
‘All right!’ Chiron shouted. ‘Fine!’
He sighed in frustration. ‘The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing.’
‘We can’t just sit back and do nothing,’ I said.
‘We will not sit back,’ Chiron promised. ‘But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unravelled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come.’
‘Assuming I live that long.’
Chiron put his hand on my ankle. ‘You’ll have to trust me, Percy. You will live. But first you must decide your path for the coming year. I cannot tell you the right choice…’ I got the feeling that he had a very definite opinion, and it was taking all his willpower not to advise me. ‘… But you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for seventh grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision.’
I wanted to protest. I wanted to ask him more questions. But his expression told me there could be no more discussion; he had said as much as he could.
‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ Chiron promised. ‘Argus will watch over you.’
He glanced at Annabeth. ‘Oh, and, my dear… whenever you’re ready, they’re here.’
‘Who’s here?’ I asked.
Nobody answered.
Chiron rolled himself out of the room. I heard the wheels of his chair clunk carefully down the front steps, two at a time.
Annabeth studied the ice in my drink.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked her.
‘Nothing.’ She set the glass on the table. ‘I… just took your advice about something. You… um… need anything?’
‘Yeah. Help me up. I want to go outside.’
‘Percy, that isn’t a good idea.’
I slid my legs out of bed. Annabeth caught me before I could crumple to the floor. A wave of nausea rolled over me.
Annabeth said, ‘I told you…’
‘I’m fine,’ I insisted. I didn’t want to lie in bed like an invalid while Luke was out there planning to destroy the Western world.
I managed a step forward. Then another, still leaning heavily on Annabeth. Argus followed us outside, but he kept his distance.
By the time we reached the porch, my face was beaded with sweat. My stomach had twisted into knots. But I had managed to make it all the way to the railing.
It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun.
‘What are you going to do?’ Annabeth asked me.
‘I don’t know.’
I told her I got the feeling Chiron wanted me to stay year-round, to put in more individual training time, but I wasn’t sure that’s what I wanted. I admitted I’d feel bad about leaving her alone, though, with only Clarisse for company…
Annabeth pursed her lips, then said quietly, ‘I’m going home for the year, Percy.’
I stared at her. ‘You mean, to your dad’s?’
She pointed towards the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Next to Thalia’s pine tree, at the very edge of the camp’s magical boundaries, a family stood silhouetted – two little children, a woman and a tall man with blond hair. They seemed to be waiting. The man was holding a backpack that looked like the one Annabeth had got from Waterland in Denver.
‘I wrote him a letter when we got back,’ Annabeth said. ‘Just like you suggested. I told him… I was sorry. I’d come home for the school year if he still wanted me. He wrote back immediately. We decided… we’d give it another try.’
‘That took guts.’
She pursed her lips. ‘You won’t try anything stupid during the school year, will you? At least… not without sending me an iris-message?’
I managed a smile. ‘I won’t go looking for trouble. I usually don’t have to.’
‘When I get back next summer,’ she said, ‘we’ll hunt down Luke. We’ll ask for a quest, but if we don’t get approval, we’ll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?’
‘Sounds like a plan worthy of Athena.’
She held out her hand. I shook it.
‘Take care, Seaweed Brain,’ Annabeth told me. ‘Keep your eyes open.’
‘You too, Wise Girl.’
I watched her walk up the hill and join her family. She gave her father an awkward hug and looked back a
t the valley one last time. She touched Thalia’s pine tree, then allowed herself to be led over the crest and into the mortal world.
For the first time at camp, I felt truly alone. I looked out at Long Island Sound and I remembered my father saying, The sea does not like to be restrained.
I made my decision.
I wondered, if Poseidon were watching, would he approve of my choice?
‘I’ll be back next summer,’ I promised him. ‘I’ll survive until then. After all, I am your son.’ I asked Argus to take me down to cabin three, so I could pack my bags for home.
Acknowledgements
Without the assistance of numerous valiant helpers, I would have been slain by monsters many times over as I endeavoured to bring this story to print. Thanks to my elder son, Haley Michael, who heard the story first; my younger son, Patrick John, who at the age of six is the levelheaded one in the family; and my wife, Becky, who puts up with my many long hours at Camp Half-Blood. Thanks also to my cadre of middle-school beta-testers: Travis Stoll, clever and quick as Hermes; C. C. Kellogg, beloved as Athena; Allison Bauer, clear-eyed as Artemis the Huntress; and Mrs Margaret Floyd, the wise and kindly seer of middle-school English. My appreciation also to Professor Egbert J. Bakker, classicist extraordinaire; Nancy Gallt, agent summa cum laude; Jonathan Burnham, Jennifer Besser, and Sarah Hughes for believing in Percy.
RICK RIORDAN
PUFFIN
Contents
1 • My Best Friend Shops for a Wedding Dress
2 • I Play Dodgeball with Cannibals
3 • We Hail the Taxi of Eternal Torment
4 • Tyson Plays with Fire
5 • I Get a New Cabin Mate
6 • Demon Pigeons Attack
7 • I Accept Gifts from a Stranger
8 • We Board the Princess Andromeda
9 • I Have the Worst Family Reunion Ever
10 • We Hitch a Ride with Dead Confederates
11 • Clarisse Blows Up Everything
12 • We Check In to C.C.’s Spa & Resort
13 • Annabeth Tries to Swim Home
14 • We Meet the Sheep of Doom
15 • Nobody Gets the Fleece
16 • I Go Down with the Ship
17 • We Get a Surprise on Miami Beach
18 • The Party Ponies Invade
19 • The Chariot Race Ends with a Bang
20 • The Fleece Works Its Magic Too Well
To Patrick John Riordan, the best storyteller in the family
1 My Best Friend Shops for a Wedding Dress
My nightmare started like this.
I was standing on a deserted street in some little beach town. It was the middle of the night. A storm was blowing. Wind and rain ripped at the palm trees along the sidewalk. Pink and yellow stucco buildings lined the street, their windows boarded up. A block away, past a line of hibiscus bushes, the ocean churned.
Florida, I thought. Though I wasn’t sure how I knew that. I’d never been to Florida.
Then I heard hooves clattering against the pavement. I turned and saw my friend Grover running for his life.
Yeah, I said hooves.
Grover is a satyr. From the waist up, he looks like a typical gangly teenager with a peach-fuzz goatee and a bad case of acne. He walks with a strange limp, but unless you happen to catch him without his trousers on (which I don’t recommend), you’d never know there was anything un-human about him. Baggy jeans and fake feet hide the fact that he’s got furry hindquarters and hooves.
Grover had been my best friend in sixth grade. He’d gone on this adventure with me and a girl named Annabeth to save the world, but I hadn’t seen him since last July, when he set off alone on a dangerous quest – a quest no satyr had ever returned from.
Anyway, in my dream, Grover was hauling goat tail, holding his human shoes in his hands the way he does when he needs to move fast. He clopped past the little tourist shops and surfboard rental places. The wind bent the palm trees almost to the ground.
Grover was terrified of something behind him. He must’ve just come from the beach. Wet sand was caked in his fur. He’d escaped from somewhere. He was trying to get away from … something.
A bone-rattling growl cut through the storm. Behind Grover, at the far end of the block, a shadowy figure loomed. It swatted aside a street lamp, which burst in a shower of sparks.
Grover stumbled, whimpering in fear. He muttered to himself, Have to get away. Have to warn them!
I couldn’t see what was chasing him, but I could hear it muttering and cursing. The ground shook as it got closer. Grover dashed around a street corner and faltered. He’d run into a dead-end courtyard full of shops. No time to back up. The nearest door had been blown open by the storm. The sign above the darkened display window read: , ST AUGUSTINE BRIDAL BOUTIQUE.
Grover dashed inside. He dived behind a rack of wedding dresses.
The monster’s shadow passed in front of the shop. I could smell the thing – a sickening combination of wet sheep wool and rotten meat and that weird sour body odour only monsters have, like a skunk that’s been living off Mexican food.
Grover trembled behind the wedding dresses. The monster’s shadow passed on.
Silence except for the rain. Grover took a deep breath. Maybe the thing was gone.
Then lightning flashed. The entire front of the store exploded, and a monstrous voice bellowed, ‘MIIIIINE!’
I sat bolt upright, shivering in my bed.
There was no storm. No monster.
Morning sunlight filtered through my bedroom window.
I thought I saw a shadow flicker across the glass – a humanlike shape. But then there was a knock on my bedroom door – my mom called, ‘Percy, you’re going to be late’ – and the shadow at the window disappeared.
It must’ve been my imagination. A fifth-storey window with a rickety old fire escape … there couldn’t have been anyone out there.
‘Come on, dear,’ my mother called again. ‘Last day of school. You should be excited! You’ve almost made it!’
‘Coming,’ I managed.
I felt under my pillow. My fingers closed reassuringly around the ballpoint pen I always slept with. I brought it out, studied the Ancient Greek writing engraved on the side: Anaklusmos. Riptide.
I thought about uncapping it, but something held me back. I hadn’t used Riptide for so long …
Besides, my mom had made me promise not to use deadly weapons in the apartment after I’d swung a javelin the wrong way and taken out her china cabinet. I put Anaklusmos on my nightstand and dragged myself out of bed.
I got dressed as quickly as I could. I tried not to think about my nightmare or monsters or the shadow at my window.
Have to get away. Have to warn them!
What had Grover meant?
I made a three-fingered claw over my heart and pushed outwards – an ancient gesture Grover had once taught me for warding off evil.
The dream couldn’t have been real.
Last day of school. My mom was right, I should have been excited. For the first time in my life, I’d almost made it an entire year without getting expelled. No weird accidents. No fights in the classroom. No teachers turning into monsters and trying to kill me with poisoned cafeteria food or exploding homework. Tomorrow, I’d be on my way to my favourite place in the world – Camp Half-Blood.
Only one more day to go. Surely even I couldn’t mess that up.
As usual, I didn’t have a clue how wrong I was.
My mom made blue waffles and blue eggs for breakfast. She’s funny that way, celebrating special occasions with blue food. I think it’s her way of saying anything is possible. Percy can pass seventh grade. Waffles can be blue. Little miracles like that.
I ate at the kitchen table while my mom washed dishes. She was dressed in her work uniform – a starry blue skirt and a red-and-white striped blouse she wore to sell candy at Sweet on America. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
T
he waffles tasted great, but I guess I wasn’t digging in like I usually did. My mom looked over and frowned. ‘Percy, are you all right?’
‘Yeah … fine.’
But she could always tell when something was bothering me. She dried her hands and sat down across from me. ‘School, or…’
She didn’t need to finish. I knew what she was asking.
‘I think Grover’s in trouble,’ I said, and I told her about my dream.
She pursed her lips. We didn’t talk much about the other part of my life. We tried to live as normally as possible, but my mom knew all about Grover.
‘I wouldn’t be too worried, dear,’ she said. ‘Grover is a big satyr now. If there were a problem, I’m sure we would’ve heard from … from camp…’ Her shoulders tensed as she said the word camp.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you what. This afternoon we’ll celebrate the end of school. I’ll take you and Tyson to Rockefeller Center – to that skateboard shop you like.’
Oh, man, that was tempting. We were always struggling with money. Between my mom’s night classes and my private school tuition, we could never afford to do special stuff like shop for a skateboard. But something in her voice bothered me.
‘Wait a minute,’ I said. ‘I thought we were packing me up for camp tonight.’
She twisted her dishcloth. ‘Ah, dear, about that … I got a message from Chiron last night.’
My heart sank. Chiron was the activities director at Camp Half-Blood. He wouldn’t contact us unless something serious was going on. ‘What did he say?’
