The Thief // pjo

Chapter Three // Poodle Therapy and Bad Dreams

    I hum, "And you wanna be a searcher."

    "It's my life's dream! My father was a searcher. And my Uncle Ferdinand ... the statue you saw back there—"

    "Oh, right, sorry..." Percy coughed beside me.

    Grover shook his head, "Uncle Ferdinand knew the risks. So did my dad. But I'll succeed. I'll be the first searcher to return alive."

    I blinked at that, and in unison, Percy and I exclaimed, "Hang on–the first?"

    "No searcher has ever come back. Once they set out, they disappear. They're never seen alive again."

    I was about to tell him not to do it.

    Yeah, I had known the goat boy for not even twelve hours yet, and I was already feeling super protective over him.

    "Not once in two thousand years?" Percy asked, his voice strained.

    "No."

    And your dad? You have no idea what happened to him?"

    "None."

    "But you still want to go," I inquired of him, a small tremor in my awed voice. "I mean, you really think you'll be the one to find Pan?"

    "I have to believe that, Sally. Every searcher does. It's the only thing that keeps us from despair when we look at what humans have done to the world. I have to believe Pan can still be awakened."

    We were all quiet for a long while, Grover's words resonating deep within me.

    He had so much hope, way more than I think I would have if I were him.

    "How are we going to get into the Underworld?" Percy asked him after a minute. "I mean, what chance do we have against a god?"

    "I don't know," Grover confessed. "But back at Medusa's, when you were searching her office? Annabeth was telling me—"

    "Oh, I forgot. Annabeth will have a plan all figured out."

    I swatted his arm, "Be nice."

    "Don't be so hard on her, Percy. She's had a tough life, but she's a good person. After all, she forgave me..." Grover's voice trailed off in a choked cough.

    I furrowed my brows, "What do you mean? Forgave you for what?"

    Grover did not answer, just played some notes on his pipes.

    "Wait a minute," Percy spoke up again. "Your first keeper job was five years ago. Annabeth has been at camp five years. She wasn't...I mean your first assignment that went wrong—"

    "I can't talk about it," Grover cut him off, his voice quivering as I assumed he was trying to hold back his tears. "But as I was saying, back at Medusa's, Annabeth and I agreed there's something strange going on with this quest. Something isn't what it seems."

    "Well, duh. I'm getting blamed for stealing a thunderbolt that Hades took."

    "That's not what I mean. The Fur-The Kindly Ones were sort of holding back. Like Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy...why did she wait so long to try to kill you? Then on the bus, they just weren't as aggressive as they could've been. Other than when they were trying to find Sally, as we're assuming, they were wayyyy more calm than they probably should have been."

    "They seemed plenty aggressive to me," I muttered.

    "They were screeching at us: 'Where is it? Where?'" Then Grover nodded at me, "Then at your seat: 'Where are they?'"