As we ventured deeper into the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, with the distant glow of New York City casting a yellow hue in the night sky, the pungent scent of the Hudson River filled our nostrils. Grover was visibly shaken, his goat-like eyes narrowing into slits filled with fear.
"Three Kindly Ones. All three at once," he murmured, still in shock. I couldn't blame him; the explosion of bus windows still echoed in my ears.
"Come on!" Annabeth insisted, her voice cutting through the tension. "The farther away we get, the better."
"All our money was back there, our food and clothes. Everything." Percy murmured
"Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—" Annabeth retorted.
"What did you want me to do? Let you guys get killed?" Percy countered.
"You didn't need to protect us, Percy. We would've been fine."
"Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover chimed in with a touch of dark humour, "but fine."
"C'mon, guys, can we not fight for like 10 minutes?" I pleaded
"Tin cans . . . a perfectly good bag of tin cans," Grover moaned. We continued trudging through the soggy ground, our path illuminated by the eerie, twisted trees that smelt like damp laundry.
After a few minutes, I turned to Percy. "I appreciate you coming back for us, Percy. That was really brave."
"We're a team, right?" he replied.
Annabeth sighed, turning to face Percy. "I agree," she added. "It's just that if you died . . . aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world." The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. I couldn't see anything of Annabeth except a glint of her blond hair.
"You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?" I inquired.
"No... only short field trips. My dad—" Annabeth began.
"The history professor?" I guessed.
"Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home." She spoke rapidly, as if fearing someone might interrupt. "At camp, you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not." There was a hint of doubt in her voice, if I didn't know better.
"You're pretty good with that knife," I complimented. She turned to me, a spark of pride in her eyes.
"You think so?" she whispered.
"Anybody who can piggyback ride a Fury is okay by me." Though I couldn't see her expression, I thought she might've smiled.
"You know," she said, "maybe I should tell you... Back on the bus..." Her words were cut off by a shrill toot-toot-toot, sounding like an owl in distress.
"Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!" He played a few notes, but it still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff. Instead of finding a path, Percy promptly collided with a tree and earned himself a sizable knot on his head. We all doubled over, laughter breaking the tension as he grumpily moved on.
After stumbling, cursing, and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, a glimmer of light appeared ahead: the colorful glow of a neon sign. Having spent some time in the camp kitchen, I recognized the tantalizing scent of fried, greasy, and delicious food—a scent that seemed to pull Percy like a magnet.
We continued until I spotted a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side stood a defunct gas station, a weathered billboard advertising a 1990s movie, and one open shop. It wasn't a fast-food restaurant as I had hoped, but rather one of those quirky roadside shops selling lawn flamingos, wooden Indians, cement grizzly bears, and the like. The main building resembled a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of weird statues. The neon sign above the gate proved hard for me to read, thanks to my dyslexia and the red cursive neon lettering.
To my eyes, it appeared as: "ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM." "What the heck does that say?" I asked.
"I don't know," Annabeth replied, her frustration evident. Despite her love for reading, I had forgotten that she, too, was dyslexic.
"Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium," Grover translated. On either side of the entrance, as advertised, stood two cement garden gnomes, unsightly bearded little figures, grinning and waving as if they were posing for a picture. I crossed the street, following the irresistible scent of hamburgers.
"Hey..." Grover warned.
"The lights are on inside," Annabeth pointed out optimistically. "Maybe it's open."
"Snack bar," Percy said wistfully.
"Snack bar," I repeated. Annabeth just rolled her eyes.
"Boys," she muttered.
"Are you guys crazy?" Grover interjected. "This place is weird." The front lot resembled a forest of statues—cement animals, cement children, and even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps.
"Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!" We halted at the warehouse door.
"Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters."
"Your nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth said. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?"
"Meat!" he said disdainfully. "I'm a vegetarian."
"You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," I reminded him.
"Those are... vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These statues are... looking at me." He whimpered.
Then, with a creak, the door swung open, and before us stood a tall Middle Eastern woman. I assumed she was Middle Eastern because she wore a long black gown that concealed everything except her hands, and her head was veiled. Her eyes gleamed behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was all I could discern. Her coffee-colored hands appeared old but well-maintained and elegant, suggesting she had once been a beautiful lady, now a grandmother. Her accent also hinted at a Middle Eastern origin.
"Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?" She inquired in a slow, drawling tone.
"They're... um..." Annabeth began.
"We're orphans," Percy interjected.
"Orphans?" the woman echoed, the word sounding foreign in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!"
"We got separated from our parents," I added, trying to add to the story. "They told us to meet them at a gas station, but I guess they meant a different one. Anyway, is that food I smell?" I emphasized the question, and the same warm sensation washed over us.
"Oh, my dears," the woman said sympathetically. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area." Gratefully, we thanked her and followed her inside.
The warehouse was brimming with more statues—people in various poses, dressed in diverse outfits, and bearing different expressions on their faces. I pondered how enormous a garden would need to be to accommodate just one of these life-sized statues. However, my primary focus remained on the delicious aroma wafting through the air.
The scent of the food was almost overwhelming. While I had prepared some excellent meals back at camp, this fare was on another level entirely. Grover's nervous whimpers, the eerie sensation of the statues' eyes following us, and Aunty Em locking the door behind us all faded into the background. My only concern was finding the dining area. I resolved to get her recipes later; they were that good.
"Please, sit down," Aunty Em invited.
"Um," Grover hesitated, "we don't have any money, ma'am."
"No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans."
"Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth responded. Aunty Em briefly tensed, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but she just as quickly relaxed, leading me to believe it might've been my imagination.
"Quite all right, Annabeth," Aunty Em reassured her. "You have such beautiful grey eyes, child." It later occurred to me that she knew Annabeth's name, even though we had never introduced ourselves. Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and began cooking. In no time, she served us plastic trays loaded with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries.
Percy was halfway through his burger before he remembered to breathe. Annabeth savoured her shake with an expression of sheer delight. I shovelled food into my mouth without much chewing. Grover hesitated with his fries, eyeing the tray's waxed paper liner as if it might become his meal, but he still appeared too anxious to eat.
"What's that hissing noise?" he asked. I strained to hear but heard nothing. Annabeth shook her head.
"Hissing?" Aunty Em questioned. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover."
"I take vitamins. For my ears," he explained.
"That's admirable," she complimented. "But please, relax." Aunty Em didn't touch her own food. She hadn't removed her headdress, even while cooking, and she sat forward, interlacing her fingers, watching us eat. It was a bit unnerving, having someone's eyes on me when I couldn't see her face, but the pleasant fullness in my stomach made me feel quite comfortable.
"So, you sell gnomes," Percy began, attempting to sound interested.
"Oh, yes," Aunty Em confirmed. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know."
"Is there much business on this road?" I inquired.
"Not so much, no. Since the highway was built... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get." My neck tingled, as though someone else were observing me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl clutching an Easter basket. The level of detail was extraordinary, far superior to most garden statues. However, something about her face struck me as odd, as if she were startled or terrified.
"Ah," Aunty Em said sorrowfully. "You've noticed that some of my creations don't turn out well. They're marred. They don't sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."
"You make these statues yourself?" Percy inquired.
"Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. That's why I make them, you see. They are my company."
Annabeth had stopped eating. She leaned forward and asked, "Two sisters?"
"It's a terrible story," Aunty Em began. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me long ago when I was young. I had a... a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune for as long as they could, but eventually, they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price."
I wasn't quite sure what she meant, but something felt off. Her story sounded oddly familiar, as if I had heard it before.
"Percy? Y/N?" Annabeth's voice brought us back to attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, our parents would be waiting." She sounded anxious. I tried to listen, but the comforting fullness in my belly made me feel too relaxed.
"Such beautiful gray eyes," Aunty Em complimented Annabeth once more. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those." She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly.
"We really should go," she declared.
"Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood as well.
"Please, dears," Aunty Em implored. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"
"A pose?" Annabeth asked warily.
"A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children." Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot.
"I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Percy—" She insisted.
"Sure, we can," Percy replied curtly. "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?"
"Percy, wait..." I tried to speak but ended up letting out a loud yawn.
"Yes, Annabeth," the woman purred. "No harm." Annabeth didn't seem to like it, but she allowed Aunty Em to lead us back out the front door, into the garden of statues. Aunty Em directed us to a park bench next to the stone satyr.
"Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girl and the satyr in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side." Only afterward did I realize what she called Grover.
"Where's your camera?" Grover asked. Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot.
"Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me, please, everyone? A big smile?" She asked sweetly. Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand."
"Grover," Aunty Em chided, "look this way, dear." She still had no camera in her hands.
"Percy—" Annabeth said. Some instinct urged me to listen to Annabeth, but I was fighting the drowsiness, the cozy lull that came from the food and the old lady's voice.
"I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil..."
"Guys, something's wrong," Annabeth insisted.
"Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"
"That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped.
"Look away from her!" Annabeth shouted. She placed her Yankees cap on her head and disappeared. Her invisible hands shoved Grover and me off the bench. I was on the ground, still dazed by the sudden movement. To my right, Percy sprawled on the ground, right in front of a sandaled foot. I glanced up at her hands, which were morphing into talons.
I almost looked higher but somewhere to my left, Annabeth screamed, "No! Don't!" More scraping sounds—the noise of tiny snakes, coming from... from about where Aunty Em's head should be. I groaned loudly, trying to shake off my stupor. With a sudden smack, my head jerked to one side, and an invisible hand hauled me to my feet. My head spun as I was dragged to a large stone grizzly, and a familiar figure removed her hat, revealing her identity.
"Annabeth?" I murmured. She seemed to be blushing before turning to Percy, who remained entranced at Medusa's feet.
"Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice called out. "Run, Percy!"
"Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice returned to a soothing purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer."
"Percy!" Grover exclaimed.
"Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa inquired. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest, Percy? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain."
"Percy!" Behind me, I heard a buzzing sound, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Grover flew by me, and then a loud "Thwack!" split the air. At first, I thought it was the sound of Grover hitting a tree. Then, Medusa roared with rage.
"You miserable satyr," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!"
"That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back. Percy scrambled to his feet.
Annabeth turned to us, a wild look on her face. "We have to kill her."
"What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here," Percy insisted.
"Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but..." Annabeth swallowed, as if she were about to admit something difficult. "But you guys have got the better weapon. Besides, I'd never get close to her. She'd slice me to bits because of my mother. You—you've got a chance."
"But all I've got are fists," I muttered sadly.
"Didn't you hear what Hestia said to you?" Annabeth retorted. "Anything you can dream up, you can use. So start thinking of some weapons, Firecracker!" I didn't have time to process what she said because I was already thinking of something. I needed something sharp but long, something with reach but still strong enough to kill. As I concentrated, I felt my hands hum with energy, and I opened my eyes. In my hands, I held a long, rose-colored sword, a little smaller than Riptide, adorned with engravings of fire and coals. The blade was deathly sharp, with flames dancing across the edge, sparking and sputtering with embers. Both Annabeth and Percy stared, shocked and awestruck.
Looking around, Annabeth grabbed two green gazing balls from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better," she noted. "The convexity will cause some distortion. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of—"
"Would you speak English?" Percy asked.
"I am!" She tossed the glass balls to me and Percy. "Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly."
"Hey, guys!" Grover yelled from somewhere above us. "I think she's unconscious!"
"Roooaaarrr!"
"Maybe not," Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch.
"Hurry," Annabeth told us. "Grover's got a great nose, but he'll eventually crash." I followed the hissing and spitting sounds of Medusa's hair. I kept my eyes locked on the gazing ball so I would only glimpse Medusa's reflection, not the real thing.
Then, in the green-tinted glass, I saw her. Grover was coming in for another turn at bat, but this time he flew a little too low. Medusa grabbed the stick and pulled him off course. He tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of the stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!" Medusa was about to lunge at him when I yelled, "Hey!" I advanced on her, which wasn't easy, holding a sword and a glass ball.
If she charged, I'd have a hard time defending myself. But she let me approach—twenty feet, ten feet. I could see the reflection of her face now. Surely it wasn't really that ugly. The green swirls of the gazing ball must be distorting it, making it look worse.
"You wouldn't harm an old woman, Y/N," she crooned. "I know you wouldn't." I hesitated, fascinated by the face I saw reflected in the glass—the eyes that seemed to burn straight through the green tint, making my arms go weak.
From the cement grizzly, Grover moaned, "Y/N, don't listen to her!"
Medusa cackled. "Too late." She lunged at me with her talons. I braced myself, lashing forwards with my sword, heard a sickening "shlock!" then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating. Something fell to the ground next to my foot. It took all my willpower not to look. I could feel warm ooze soaking into my sock, little dying snake heads tugging at my shoelaces.
"Oh, yuck," Grover said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess he could hear the thing gurgling and steaming.
"Mega-yuck." Annabeth came up next to me, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa's black veil. She said, "Don't move." Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice.
"Are you okay?" Percy asked me, his voice trembling.
"Yeah," I decided, though I felt like throwing up my double cheeseburger.
"Why didn't... why didn't the head evaporate?" Percy questioned.
"Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," she said. "Same as your Minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you." Grover moaned as he climbed down from the grizzly statue. He had a big welt on his forehead. His green rasta cap hung from one of his little goat horns, and his fake feet had been knocked off his hooves. The magic sneakers were flying aimlessly around his head.
"The Red Baron," Percy said. "Good job, man." He managed a bashful grin.
"That really was not fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun." He snatched his shoes out of the air. Concentrating, I thought back to the bracelet Hestia gave me, trying to form its image in my mind. With a sound of crackling flames, my sword burned brightly in my hand, before shifting back to a bangle.
Together, the three of us stumbled back to the warehouse. We found some old plastic grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. We plopped it on the table where we'd eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak.
Finally Percy said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?" Annabeth flashed him an irritated look.
"Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three Gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him."
Percy's face was burning. "Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa." Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of his voice, she said: "'It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?'"
"Forget it," he said. "You're impossible."
"You're insufferable."
"You're—"
"Hey!" I interrupted. "What happened to getting along? I thought we were a team, huh? Besides, what are we going to do with the head?"
I stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed on the side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS! Percy seemed to grow angry before getting up in a huff. "I'll be back," he muttered.
"Percy," Annabeth called after him. "What are you—" Percy didn't seem to hear her and disappeared to the back of the warehouse. Annabeth sighed, then turned to me with a smile. "That was a pretty cool sword you had there," she said.
"Yeah, it was," I murmured. "Also... did you call me Firecracker?" Her face turned beet red, and she looked away.
"It's just a name," she muttered. I laughed loudly.
"Whatever you say, Wise girl." I only laughed harder when her face became even redder.
After a while, Percy came back with a large box and a slip of paper. He placed the medusa head into the box, then wrote on the slip:
The Gods
Mount Olympus
600th Floor
Empire State Building
New York
With best wishes
PERCY JACKSON AND Y/N
"They're not going to like that," Grover warned. "They'll think you're impertinent."
He poured some golden drachmas into a pouch. As soon as he closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop!
"I am impertinent," Percy said.
"Hey!" I exclaimed. "I'm not impertinent!"
"Guess it's time for you to be a troublemaker then, bud," Percy grinned. He looked at Annabeth, daring her to criticize. She didn't.
"Come on," she muttered. "We need a new plan."