Cruel Summer. ¹

15. learned to live with the pain

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

chapter fifteen. ☄︎. *. ⋆

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THE FIRST THING that I noticed about the Underworld's receptionist was the fact that he looked exactly like my old Theology teacher—and hey, I hadn't thought about that guy since I was in his class in sixth grade, but this was such a shocking resemblance that I almost called him Mr. Greene out of surprise. But when he opened his mouth, I nearly recoiled at the shock of his accent. It was one you wouldn't expect to come from a guy that looked like him: a mix of British and some foreign undertone that made it seem like he had learned English as a second language.

      Percy was the first to make a move. "Your name is Chiron?" he asked, clearly in bewilderment.

      "What a precious young lad," the guy—whose name tag clearly read Charon, not Chiron—said, narrowing his eyes over his podium at us. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur to you?"

     "N-no," Percy said, shaking his head.

     "Sir."

     "Sir," he added, sheepish.

     "Charon." I fixed Percy's mistake, then swiftly added, "Mr. Charon."

     "Mr. Charon would be delightful," he said, nodding to me. His eyes fell on me for the first time, and he regarded me with some strange emotion—confusion, maybe, but it was oddly regal. "You, young girl. You're familiar. Famous parent? Or perhaps a dead parent?"

     I swallowed, shaking my head. "No, Mr. Charon, sir," I said. "Regular, living parents, for me."

     Charon hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin. I was afraid he would recognize me somehow as a daughter of Apollo, but finally, after a few moments of being examined deeply by the bellhop of the Underworld, he seemed to give in to the fact that I really was a random dead girl. He shifted in his seat, assorting the papers on his desk and clearing his throat. "How may I help you little dead ones?"

     "We want to go to the Underworld," Grover told him.

     His mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing. It's normally all.. screaming, telling me there must be a mistake, tears. It's nice to not be yelled at while I'm just doing my job." He looked over the four of us. "How did you die, then?"

     None of us knew how to reply. Percy nudged Grover, who said, "Oh.. um... drowned. In... in the bathtub."

     "All four of you?" Charon asked, leaning over the edge of his desk to regard all of us. "Big bathtub."

     We paid Charon the drachmas Percy had received as payment from Ares for rescuing his sword. Charon was skeptical at first, saying he had an inkling that we were 'godlings,' but after Percy bribed him with the entire bag of drachmas, Charon led us down an elevator to the boat that would carry us to the Underworld. I was on edge the entire time, which was odd, because normally I'm never anxious in situations like these. Then again, it's not everyday you visit the Underworld, right?

     Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that we weren't supposed to be down there.

    I glanced over my shoulder every now and then, but I'm not sure what I expected myself to find; I wasn't completely sure we had been entirely successful until we docked and Charon let us off the boat that carried us over the River Styx. My feet hadn't even touched the ground of the Underworld when it began—I felt like I was fading, disappearing on the spot.

    Dizzily, I noticed the three lines of the dead: One was marked EZ DEATH and the other two, ATTENDANT ON DUTY. The EZ DEATH line was moving quickly, but the other two were crawling.

     "They're waiting for judgment," Annabeth figured, her eyes locked on the two lines moving slowly. "If they pass, they'll get the Fields of Aphsodel, or, if they were really good, Elysium. If they fail..."

     "What happens?" Percy asked, his voice low.

     Annabeth shook her head. "The Kindly Ones will have set up an eternal punishment for them."

     We stopped walking. About fifty feet ahead of us, shimmering in the green shadows, was a large monster; and no, it was not just any monster—Cerberus himself. Of his three heads, the middle one was focused directly on us, growling and baring its teeth, growing more and more agitated the closer we came to him.

     I drew in a short breath. "Anybody got a bone?"

     Percy reached into his backpack slowly, like a sudden movement would startle Cerberus into attacking. I watched as Percy pulled a large stick from his bag, then waved it around in front of all three heads; the middle one followed the stick, but the outer two were fixated directly on Percy and looked murderous.

     "Fetch!" Percy called. He threw the stick into the foggy distance. I heard it splash into the River Styx. Cerberus did not follow.

      "Grover, can you understand him?" Annabeth asked over Cerberus's deep growls.

     "Yeah, um.." Grover swallowed. "He said we've got ten seconds to pray to a god of our choosing. After that, well... he's hungry."

     Annabeth gasped, then fished from her bag a red rubber ball that she held up in front of Cerberus. She inhaled deeply, then shouted, "Sit!"

     And, by the gods, Cerberus sat.

     "Stay." She didn't turn to look at us, but it was obvious she was talking to us when she said, "Go now."

     We inched forward warily, but Cerberus began growling—at least, until Annabeth said, "Stay! If you want the ball, stay!"

    Again, Cerberus stayed. After Grover, Percy, and I had made it safely to the other side of Cerberus, Annabeth threw the ball into the air and told him he was a good boy, then walked briskly under his belly and met us on the other side.

"Good dog," she called once we were safely on the other side of the three-headed monster. "I'll come and visit you soon. I—I promise."

     As she said it, an odd chill went over my body, and I imagined that the next time we visited the Underworld would be for much longer than a day trip.