The Meriwether gym uniform was sky-blue shorts and a faded T-shirt. Fortunately, most athletic activities took place indoors, so they didn't have to run around the Tribeca neighborhood looking like a bunch of hippie kids in training.
Percy changed clothes as quickly as possible in the locker room because he didn't want to deal with Sloan. He was almost out when Tyson called out.
"Percy?"
He hadn't changed yet. He was standing near the door to the weight room, holding his gym clothes.
"Could you... uh..." Percy immediately understood what the boy wanted.
"Oh! Yeah..." Tyson nodded quickly.
Percy tried not to seem annoyed about it.
"Yeah, sure, man."
Tyson slipped into the room, and Percy sighed, standing guard outside the door while Tyson changed. He didn't feel embarrassed about it at all—after all, Tyson asked him to do this almost every day.
It was like babysitting a giant, Percy thought.
Also, maybe Tyson was self-conscious because he was so hairy and had strange scars on his back, which Percy had never had the courage to ask about.
Ikki would be proud of how much more understanding he'd become—if he were here.
What had happened to him?
Percy's urge to find answers was suppressed by the demands of his normal life, but now, with summer approaching, he might finally get the chance to figure it out.
Once Tyson was dressed, the two entered the gym. Coach Nunley was sitting at his little desk, reading Sports Illustrated.
Nunley looked like he was about a million years old. He wore bifocals and had no teeth, and his greasy gray pompadour stood straight up. He reminded Percy of the Oracle at Camp Half-Blood—who was a shriveled mummy—except Coach Nunley moved even less and never emitted green smoke.
Not that he knew about that, of course.
They arrived just in time to see Matt Sloan approaching the coach and asking.
"Coach, can I be captain?"
"Huh?" Coach Nunley looked up from his magazine and mumbled, "Yeah... hmm-mmm."
Sloan grinned and took charge of team selection. He made Percy captain of the other team, but it didn't matter who he chose, as all the athletes and popular kids went to Sloan's side. Plus, that big group of visiting kids.
On Percy's side, he had Tyson, Corey Bailer (the computer nerd), Raj Mandali (the math whiz), and half a dozen other kids who were constantly tormented by Sloan and his gang.
Normally, Percy did fine with just Tyson—who alone was worth half a team—but Sloan's visitors were nearly as tall and strong as Tyson, and there were six of them.
Matt Sloan scattered a crate of balls in the middle of the gym.
Standing beside Percy, Tyson suddenly muttered, "Scared. Funny smell."
Percy glanced at the tall boy.
"What smells funny?..." He didn't think Tyson meant himself.
"Them..." Tyson pointed at Sloan's new friends. "They smell funny."
The visitors were cracking their knuckles and staring at them like it was time for a slaughter.
Percy, who already had a sense that something was off, couldn't help but wonder where they'd come from. Some place where they fed kids raw meat and beat them with sticks? Or... he thought of another possibility.
Unfortunately, he didn't have time to dwell on it.
Sloan blew the coach's whistle, and the game began. Sloan's team charged to the center line.
On Percy's side, Raj Mandali shouted something in Urdu, probably: "I need a potty!" and bolted for the exit. Corey Bailer tried to crawl behind the wall padding and hide. The rest of the team did their best to shrink in fear and avoid looking like targets.
"Tyson. Let's go..."
Percy was about to move and pull the tall boy along when a ball flew at him with inhuman speed. Fortunately, Percy's trained reflexes allowed him to catch it.
But the force was too much. He was thrown backward and landed flat on the gym floor.
The other team burst into laughter.
Percy ignored them, wondering how anyone could throw a ball with that much power. It felt like he'd caught a gorilla's punch!
Suddenly, Tyson shouted.
"Percy, duck!"
Percy rolled quickly as another ball whizzed past his ear at the speed of sound.
Vuuuuum!
It slammed into the wall padding, and Corey Bailer yelped.
Finally, Percy understood: these kids weren't human. That earlier possibility he'd considered was now confirmed, especially remembering what Tyson had said: They smell funny.
No doubt about it—they were monsters.
As if reading his thoughts, the visitor named Skull-Crusher grinned wickedly at him. Somehow, he seemed much bigger now... even taller than Tyson. His biceps bulged under his T-shirt.
"You're gonna die, Perseus Jackson!"
The way he said Percy's name sent a chill down his spine. Knowing they were enemies only made it worse.
Around Matt Sloan, the visitors grew larger. They weren't kids anymore. They were eight-foot-tall giants with wild eyes, sharp teeth, and hairy arms tattooed with snakes, hula dancers, and hearts.
Matt Sloan dropped his ball.
"Whoa! You guys aren't from Detroit. Who..."
The other kids on Percy's team started screaming and scrambling toward the exit, but the giant named Bone-Sucker hurled a ball with perfect aim. It zipped past Raj Mandali, who was almost at the door, and struck it, slamming it shut as if by magic. Raj and a few other kids pounded on the door desperately, but it didn't budge.
Percy knew he had to act. He shouted at the giants.
"Let them go!"
The one called Skull-Crusher growled at him. He had a tattoo on his bicep that read: SC loves Fluffy.
"And lose our snacks? No, Son of the Sea God. We, the Laestrygonians, aren't just playing to kill you. We want lunch!"
He waved, and a new batch of dodgeballs appeared at the center line—but these weren't made of red rubber. They were bronze, cannonball-sized, perforated, and spewing fire from the holes.
They must've been incredibly hot, but the giants picked them up with bare hands.
"Coach!" Percy yelled at his teacher. He wanted the man to at least do something to get the mortals out of the gym.
Nunley looked up, drowsy, but if he saw anything unusual about the dodgeball game, he didn't show it.
That was the problem with mortals—a magical force called the Mist disguised the true appearances of monsters and gods from their eyes, so they only saw what they could comprehend.
Maybe the coach saw some eighth-graders beating up the younger kids, as usual. Maybe the others saw Matt Sloan's goons preparing to throw Molotov cocktails—it wouldn't have been the first time.
In any case, Percy was sure no one else realized they were dealing with actual man-eating, bloodthirsty monsters.
"Yeah. Hmm-mmm..." Coach Nunley mumbled. "Play fair."
Then he went back to his magazine.
The giant named Brain-Eater hurled a ball.
Percy dove to the side, narrowly dodging it. He quickly searched for Riptide, his trusty pen-sword, but realized he was wearing gym shorts with no pockets. Riptide was tucked in the pocket of his jeans—locked in his locker in the changing room.
The locker room door was shut tight.
He would have to find another way to deal with the monsters.
"Percy needs help!" Tyson yelled, jumping in front of Percy just as two of the fireballs were launched.
"Tyson!" Percy's eyes widened, and he shouted, but it was too late.
The two balls hit Tyson—but no, he caught them. Somehow, Tyson, who was so clumsy he was always dropping lab equipment and breaking playground structures, had caught both flaming metal balls coming at him at supersonic speed.
He hurled them back at the stunned giants, who yelled, "RUIIIIM!" as the bronze spheres exploded against their chests.
The giants disintegrated into twin columns of flame—a sure sign they were monsters. Monsters don't die; they just dissipate into smoke and dust, saving heroes a lot of cleanup after a fight.
"My brothers!" moaned Skull-Crusher, the Cannibal. He flexed his muscles, and his Fluffy tattoo rippled.
"You'll pay for destroying them!"
He threw another ball toward them.
Percy stepped in, caught it firmly, and threw it back with incredible force. The ball broke the sound barrier and hit the monster square in the head, making him explode!
His training at camp with his friend had paid off.
With Tyson's help, they quickly dispatched the monsters—leaving only one giant standing.
The last ball hit Tyson square in the chest. He skidded the entire length of the court and slammed into the back wall, which cracked. Part of it collapsed on top of him, leaving a hole that opened directly onto Church Street.
The bronze ball smoldered at his feet. Tyson tried to pick it up but fell backward, stunned, into a pile of concrete blocks.
"Well!" gloated Skull-Crusher, both angry and excited. "I'm the last one standing! I'll have enough meat to pack some for Fluffy!"
But at that moment, he froze. Right where his belly button should have been, his shirt ripped, and something sharp and shiny emerged—a blade.
"Uh-oh..." he murmured before exploding into a cloud of green flames. Percy thought Fluffy was going to be very upset.
Standing in the middle of the smoke was his friend Annabeth, with a few scratches and dirt smudged on her face. She carried a tattered backpack slung over one shoulder, a Yankees cap tucked in her pocket, a bronze knife in her hand, and a wild look in her storm-gray eyes, as if ghosts had been chasing her for miles.
Matt Sloan, who had been standing there dumbfounded the entire time, finally snapped out of it. He blinked at Annabeth as if vaguely recognizing her from the photo in Percy's notebook.
"It's the girl... it's the girl..."
Annabeth punched him in the nose, knocking him to the ground, before saying.
"And you, leave my friend alone."
What about Chiron's strict rules about not hitting mortals?
Percy decided not to mention that.
He looked around the gym, now in flames, the aftermath of their dodgeball game with monsters. Kids were still running and screaming.
He heard sirens wailing and a distorted voice on the intercom. Through the glass windows of the exit doors, he saw Principal Bonsai fumbling with the lock, a crowd of teachers gathered behind him.
Annabeth walked up to him.
Remembering how he'd lied to her about Ikki for months, Percy stammered.
"Annabeth... how did you... how long have you..."
"Most of the morning." She sheathed her bronze knife. "I was trying to find a good moment to talk to you, but you were never alone."
"The shadow I saw this morning... that was..." Percy trailed off, embarrassed. His eyes gleamed strangely as he said, "Oh gods, were you looking through my bedroom window?"
"No time to explain!" Annabeth snapped, clearly irritated, and he could guess why.
"There!" a woman shouted.
The doors burst open suddenly, and the adults stormed in.
"Meet me outside," Annabeth said with a frown. She pointed at Tyson, who was still sitting dazed against the wall. "And bring him. You'll need him."
"What?"
"No time!" Annabeth said, narrowing her eyes. "Hurry!"
Then she put on her magical Yankees cap, a gift from her mother, and disappeared instantly.
Percy was left standing alone in the flaming gym as the principal barged in with half the staff and two police officers.
"Percy Jackson?" Principal Bonsai said, bewildered. "What... how..."
By the ruined wall, Tyson groaned and stood up from the pile of concrete blocks.
"My head hurts..."
Matt Sloan also staggered forward. He looked at Percy with terror.
"It was Percy, Mr. Bonsai. He set the building on fire. Coach Nunley saw everything!"
Coach Nunley, who had been reading his magazine diligently, chose that moment to look up.
"Huh? Yeah... hmm-mmm."
The other adults turned to Percy, who knew they'd never believe him even if he told them the truth.
He chose the best option available. Running to his locker, he grabbed his pen, then hurried to Tyson, saying.
"Let's go!"
With that, he jumped through the gaping hole in the side of the building.
Annabeth was waiting for them in an alley further down Church Street. She pulled Tyson and Percy off the sidewalk just as a fire truck screamed its siren on its way to Meriwether.
She then crossed her arms and, as soon as she looked in their direction, asked, "Where is Ikki?"
Percy wasn't surprised that she had figured out the truth, but he was still nervous.
He decided to tell her what he knew.
"I don't know... He disappeared a few months ago, I haven't heard from him since..."
Annabeth was surprised and furrowed her brow.
"You have no idea where he went?"
Percy bit his lip and shook his head negatively.
This left the girl worried, but she took a deep breath and told herself, "He has to be okay..."
An uncomfortable silence followed, then Annabeth mentioned, "Forget the fact that you lied about this. I want to know, where did you find him?"
At this point, she pointed to Tyson.
"He's my friend," Percy replied.
"Is he homeless?" Annabeth asked with some ignorance.
"Why does it matter? He can hear, you know? Why don't you ask him?"
She seemed surprised.
"He can talk?..."
"I talk..." Tyson admitted, "You're pretty."
"Oh! Rude!" Annabeth took a step back, distancing herself from him.
Percy couldn't believe she was being so rude, but he ignored it for now. He looked at Tyson's hands, which, he was sure, should be badly burned from the fireballs, but they looked fine – dirty and marked with scarred patches the size of potato chips, but they had always been like that.
He couldn't help but speak in surprise.
"Tyson... Your hands aren't burned."
"Of course not..." Annabeth grumbled, "I'm surprised by the courage of the Lestrigons, attacking him with them around."
Tyson seemed fascinated by Annabeth's blonde hair. He tried to touch it, but she swatted his hand away.
"Annabeth, what are you talking about? Les-what?.." Percy asked, confused.
"Lestrigons. The monsters in the gym. They're a race of cannibal giants that live in the far north. Ulysses ran into them once, but I've never seen them this far south, like in New York."
"Les... I can't even pronounce that. How would you call them in English?.."
She thought for a moment.
"Canadians. Now, we have to get out of here."
"The police will come after me."
"That's the least of our problems." The girl bit her thumb and asked, "Have you been having dreams?"
"Dreams... with Grover?" Percy asked with a worried expression.
Her face paled.
"Grover? No, what's up with Grover?.."
Seeing that the girl was demanding to know about this practically, and he wanted her help interpreting the dream, he told her.
Her eyes seemed stormy, as if her mind was racing a million miles per hour.
"Why? What have you been dreaming?.." After asking, Percy questioned.
Annabeth furrowed her brow and admitted, "Camp Half-Blood. A big problem at camp."
This made him worried, so he asked, "What kind of problem?"
"I don't know exactly. Something's wrong. We need to go there anyway. Monsters have been chasing me all the way from Virginia, trying to stop me. Have you been attacked a bunch too?"
Percy shook his head negatively.
"None, all year... until today."
"None? But how..." Her eyes fell on Tyson, "Ah!"
"What do you mean 'Ah!'?"
Tyson raised his hand as if he were in a classroom. "The Canadians in the gym called Percy something... Son of the Sea God?"
Annabeth and Percy exchanged glances. The latter didn't know how he would explain, but figured Tyson deserved the truth after almost being killed.
So, he spoke.
"Big guy, have you heard those old stories about Greek gods? Like Zeus, Poseidon, Athena..."
"Yes..."
"Well... those gods still live. I mean, they follow Western civilization back and forth and live in the most powerful countries; so they're here in the United States now. And sometimes, they have kids with mortals. Kids who are called half-bloods."
"Yes.." Tyson said, as if still waiting for Percy to get to the main point.
"Uh, well, Annabeth and I are half-bloods. We're like heroes in training. And whenever monsters catch our scent, they attack us. And those giants in the gym were monsters."
"Yes."
Percy looked at him. Tyson didn't seem surprised or confused by what he was telling him, which left Percy surprised and confused.
Tyson nodded.
"But you're... Son of the Sea God?"
"Yes. My father is Poseidon." Percy admitted.
Tyson frowned. Now he seemed confused.
"But then..."
A siren wailed. A police car rushed past the alley.
"We don't have time for this." Annabeth interrupted, "Let's talk in the cab."
"A taxi to Camp Half-Blood?" Percy said, "Do you know how much money..."
"Leave it to me." Annabeth relieved his concerns.
Percy hesitated for several reasons, some of which he could get over, but one was pretty tough.
"And Tyson? We can't just leave him here. He'll be in trouble too."
"Yes..." Annabeth seemed reluctant, admitting, "No doubt, we need to take him. Now come on."
Percy didn't like the way she spoke about bringing his friend along, like Tyson was some kind of illness they had to take to the hospital, but he followed her down the alley. Together, the three of them sneaked through the downtown streets while a huge column of smoke rose from the school behind them.
After walking for a while, Annabeth stopped them at the corner of Thomas and Trimbla and rummaged through her backpack. "I hope there's still one left."
Percy looked more closely at the girl. She looked worse than he had noticed earlier. She had a cut on her chin. There were twigs and grass tangled in her ponytail, like she had spent several nights outdoors. The tears in the cuffs of her jeans looked like they were made by claws.
He asked her.
"What are you looking for?..."
The sirens wailed around them. He figured it wouldn't be long before more police officers passed by, looking for juvenile delinquents bombing gyms. By now, Matt Sloan probably had already given a statement. He'd probably twisted the story so that Tyson and he were the bloodthirsty cannibals.
"I found one. Thank the gods." Annabeth didn't answer his question. She simply pulled a gold coin out of her backpack, something Percy recognized as a drachma, the currency of Mount Olympus. It had an effigy of Zeus on one side and the Empire State Building on the other.
"Annabeth. The New York taxi drivers won't accept this."
Even though he said this, the girl didn't care about his words. She spun in Ancient Greek: "Stêthi. Ô hárma diabolês!"
As usual, the moment she spoke in the language of Olympus, Percy somehow understood. She said: Stop, Chariot of Damnation!
She then threw the coin into the street, but instead of clattering noisily on the asphalt, the drachma sank and disappeared.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, right where the coin had fallen, the asphalt darkened. It melted into a rectangular puddle about the size of a parking space—bubbling a blood-red liquid.
Then, a car burst out of the muck. It was a taxi, no doubt, but unlike any other New York taxi, it wasn't yellow. It was dark gray. I mean, it looked like it was made of smoke, as if it were possible to walk right through it. There were words printed on the door—something like "Mãsir Zentsitna," but dyslexia made it hard for me to decipher what it said.
The passenger window rolled down, and an old woman stuck her head out. She had a tuft of gray hair covering her eyes and spoke in a strange, murmuring voice, as if she'd just had an anesthetic injection.
"Passage? Passage?"
"Three to Camp Half-Blood." As if it were normal, Annabeth spoke, then opened the back door of the taxi and gestured for the two boys to get in, as if all of this was the most normal thing in the world.
"Yikes!" The old woman screeched, "We don't take his kind!"
She pointed a finger at Tyson.
Percy looked at the older boy, finally understanding why Annabeth had acted strange around him and how he managed to fight the monsters in the gym. It was because he was one of those monsters...
An uncomfortable feeling tightened his chest, but remembering that the boy had saved his life, he quickly calmed down. No matter the species, Tyson was his friend!
His attention shifted back to Annabeth, who frowned and said, "I'll pay extra. Three more drachmas when we get there."
"Deal!" The woman shouted.
Percy reluctantly got into the taxi, Tyson squeezed in between. Annabeth slid in last.
The interior was also dark gray, but it seemed quite solid. The seat was cracked and uneven—not much different from most taxis.
There was no partition separating them from the old woman driving... But there wasn't just one old woman. There were three, all crammed into the front seat, each with sticky hair covering their eyes, bony hands, and thick charcoal-colored dresses.
Percy felt a bad feeling seeing the drivers, but they didn't have much choice, right?
He looked out the window at the sky while thinking, Where was his best friend? If he were here, everything would be easier...