A god in disguise

3

Perseus gazed out of the window. He was in Yancy Academy, preparing for the year-end exams. As a 'demigod', he was supposed to have ADHD and dyslexia and couldn't read. He suspected the old horse, Chiron, and a sweet satyr named Grover already knew his identity, so he'd better act up to it.

Pushing himself onto his bunk, he worms into his blanket and starts to frown over 'Poseidon' and 'Pontus', which in reality had him cackling internally.

"You ok there, Percy?" Grover asked. That caring boy. Er—satyr.

He blinked. He'd never get used to being called 'Percy'. It was like a nickname, and nicknames were non-existent in his family especially since they tried to kill each other every chance they got. His mother calls him that, and he's ok only because she's his mom, and she's pretty much the best human being he's ever met.

Ok, so maybe you don't feel Perseus's awkwardness. Imagine: instead of calling him by his real name, Pontus, you call him Ponty. Or Panties. Or Potty.

Yeah, like that.

"Yeah, G-man. Fine. Just thought I might make one last revision. Let Ch-Mr. Brunner know that I've at least tried my best, right?"

"Mm-hmm. Well, I'll be going downstairs. I need some food now." And he closed the door behind him with a slam that made Perseus jump a little.

"Tin cans, more like," he muttered to himself once he knew Grover was out of earshot. Satyrs have excellent hearing.

__________________________________________

Perry

Why did the Fates snip my lifeline in front of me? Wasn't I technically immortal? That is so wrong. Unless... someone else was going to die when I physically turn 16?

I hopped on the Greyhound with Grover after the bus was mostly repaired. "Percy..." Grover started tentatively.

It was still odd hearing myself being called Percy after 12 years. But I have grown to love the name. Innocent, unpredictable, and sarcastic.

"Yes, Grover?"

"Please tell me the grannies weren't looking at you."

You call them grannies; I call them old snotty hags that like to interfere with human affairs for the heck of it.

Yes, they were glaring at me, and I just smiled back evilly. I swore they blanched a little.

"The ones knitting socks for ogres? They seem to like my blue shirt. It's 50% off," I said.

"So were they? Percy, please don't mess around. Tell me!" Grover almost yelled. He sighed, shrunk back into his seat, and mumbled an apology. He looked horrible: bags under his eyes, his lips settled in a frown only people who have seen too much can have.

He closed his eyes and did a claw-over-the-heart gesture and took a deep breath. "Percy, tell me now."

I stared at him blankly, but deep down... I was mildly amused.

"Please, Percy. Tell me!"

"Okay, okay. Yes."

Grover cursed. He did not bother to lower his voice as he cursed colorfully like a sailor in Ancient Greek and gestured wildly in front of him. I caught most of it, the swear words being 'Poseidon's underpants', 'Hermes's traveling socks' and 'fart of a griffin' to name a few.

I tried to convince the other passengers that my friend is actually okay.

Then I sat back with him once he'd calmed down and smiled like the Cheshire. Another lesson: never trust Grover with a secret.