𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒔－ 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝑶𝒏𝒆.

Thalia gave him an evil glare, never faulting once he asked the question. The boy looked ready to bury himself in the snow. "If that was any of your business, Percy—"

"We'd better get inside," Annabeth interrupted. "Grover will be waiting."

Ariadne looked up at the castle and shivered. "Yeah. I wonder what he found her that made him send the distress call."

Percy looked up with her. "Nothing good," he guessed.

When they stepped into the entry hall and through the oak doors, they stared around in awe. The place was huge. Walls lined with battle flags and weapon displayed: antique rifles, battle axes, and a lot of other weapons.

"Ares cabin would faint at the sight of this," Ariadne muttered. Her friends nodded and agreed with her statement, but they all could sense something wrong.

Thalia rubbed her silver bracelet. Percy's hand went to his pocket where the ballpoint pen was, and her hands went over her ring.

Annabeth started to say, "I wonder where—"

The doors slammed shut, creating an echo along the black walls.

"Oo-kay," Percy mumbled. "Guess we'll stay awhile."

Dance music echoed from the other end of the hall. They stashed their bags bring a pillar before walking down the hallway. A man and women marched from the shadows to intercept them as they walked a bit father.

Both had short grey hair and black military-style uniforms with red trim. The women had a wispy mustache and the man was clean shaven, her eyebrows furrowed. They both walk like they had a stick up their ass.

"Well?" the woman demanded. "What are you doing here?"

"Um..." they hadn't planned on this. "Ma'am," Percy said, "we're just—"

"Ha!" the man snapped. "Visitors are not allowed at the dance! You shall be eee-jected!" He had a French-type accent. The man was tall, with a hawkish face. Nostrils flared when he spoke, his eyes were two different colors— one was blue and the other brown.

Thalia stepped forward and snapped her fingers. It was sharp and loud, the wind ripples around her hand and across the room, rustling the banners on the walls.

"Oh, but we're not visitors, sir," Thalia said. "We go to school here. You remember: I'm Thalia. And this is Annabeth, Ariadne and Percy. We're in the eight grade."

He narrowed his eyes and hesitated. The brunette knew what Thalia was doing, happy at least one of them knew how too. "Ms. Gottschalk," he asked his colleague, "do you know these students?"

The women blinked, waking from a trance. "I... yes. I believe I do, sir." She frowned at them. "Annabeth. Ariadne. Thalia. Percy. What are you doing away from the gymnasium?"

Grover ran up to them, breathless. "You made it! You—" He stopped short once he saw the teachers. "Oh, Mrs. Gottschalk. Dr. Thorn! I, uh—"

"What is it, Mr. Underwood?" Dr. thorn said. He didn't like Grover very much, judging from his tone. "What do you mean, they made it? These students live here."

Grover swallowed. "Yes, sir. Of course, Dr. Thorn. I just meant, I'm so glad they made... the punch for the dance! The lunch is great. And they made it!"

Dr. Thorn gave them a glare. One of his eyes had to be face. Mrs. Gottschalk spoke dreamily, "Yes, the lunch is excellent. Now run along, all of you. You are not to leave the gymnasium again!"