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chapter viii.
( the lightning thief )
❝ mother dearest ❞
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THE NIGHT WAS MISERABLE. We made our way to a campsite where teenagers had left scraps of food, squashed coke and Dr Pepper cans, and plastic bags. We had taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but we didn't dare light a fire to dry our damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa were enough for me in one day. We decided to sleep in shifts, Percy took the first one.
I settled up behind a tree away from the others. Grover had climbed up a tree with his flying shoes, Percy had sat down against the tree as well, while Annabeth lied on the ground, curled up in blankets, as soon as her head hit the ground, she was snoring.
I pretended I was asleep because I really didn't want to talk to either Percy or even Grover. I could hear their conversation behind me, but I didn't listen, I just wanted some time to myself. I wrapped my arms around my legs and propped my chin on my knees. I tried to look up at the stars, but the light pollution hid them from view. A small sigh escaped my lips and I stared at my shoes. The red sneakers were now brown from the mud we walked through, and the white canvas was damp and dull. I didn't know why, but at the moment, I felt like the canvas on my shoes, damp and dull.
It's hard to explain sometimes when you just feel sad. There's no reason behind it, not really. For a second you're happy, you have your friends and your relief you survived another day – especially for a demigod. But as soon as you stop moving, and you sit down, you just don't feel right.
Maybe it was some sort of weird side effect of ADHD. Maybe it was those things inside your body that Annabeth described to me once – endorphins or something – they fill your body up when you exercise or be active, and make you happy.
And then it is when you sit down, that you start thinking. Maybe that's the reason. When I'm moving around, I don't think or ponder. Because right now, while I'm sitting on a blanket beside a small pile of squished soda cans, everything finally starts to dawn on me. All the near death experiences ... how much I missed my friends and siblings back at camp ... how much I missed my Mom and her boyfriend, and I guess, I turn sad.
I decided to finally listen to Percy and Grover's conversation, wanting a distraction to my thoughts.
"How are we going to get to the Underworld?" Percy was asking. "I mean, what chance do we have against a god?"
"I don't know," Grover said from where he sat in his tree. "But back at Medusa's, when you were searching her office? Annabeth and Claire were telling me –"
I frowned when I heard Percy scoff. "Oh, I forgot. Let me guess: Claire helped with Annabeth's plan?"
I looked down, my gaze returning to my dull sneakers. It seemed like someone had had found a way to stab me inwardly to my stomach and slowly twist their way to my heart. At Percy's words, I could feel my shoulders slouch, and I suddenly felt shy and insecure.
"Don't be so hard on her, Percy," Grover told the son of Poseidon. "Or Annabeth, either."
"I don't have a problem with Annabeth." Percy snapped back. "At least she's nice to me, despite the feud between Athena and Poseidon. It's Claire that annoys me, especially when she gives me that look that everything I do is stupid."
"You don't mean that," Grover said. "She can be snappy sometimes, she has a short attention span which makes her impatient ... but she's a good person. Claire ... she's had a rough past, Perce, and she tries to push it away, but her troubles always get to her. I think you annoy her because she doesn't understand you, or what you mean for her future."
"What are you talking about?"
I shrunk down low. I wanted to punch Grover for being so open about me. He's supposed to keep my secret, all my friends are. It was my thing to tell, not his.
Grover seemed to realise his mistake, as he began to splutter. "I-it doesn't matter." He said quickly. "What I'm trying to say is that you should give her a chance, and she'll give you one in return. After all, she forgave me ..." he faltered again, and I pursed my lips. He was talking about Thalia.
"What do you mean?" Percy asked in a fast pace. "Forgave you for what?"
There was a pause, and Percy continued to urge the satyr. "Wait a minute," He said. "Your first keeper job was five years ago. Claire and Annabeth have been here for five years. They weren't ... I mean your first assignment went wrong –"
Grover cut him off. "I can't talk about it." His voice quivered, and I could tell he was on the verge of tears. At that moment, I forgave him again. I couldn't stay angry at Grover, we had been through too much together, but Percy was a whole different matter ... "But as I was saying, back at Medusa's, Annabeth, Claire 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." Percy replied.
"That's not what I mean," Grover said. "The Fu – The Kindly Ones were sort of holding back. Like Mrs Dodds at Yancy Academy ... why did she wait so long to kill you? Then on the bus, they just weren't as aggressive as they could've been."
"They seemed plenty aggressive to me."
Grover shook his head. "They were screeching at us: 'Where is it? Where?'"
"Asking about me," Percy said.
"Maybe ... but Annabeth, Claire and I, we both got the feeling they weren't asking about a person. They said 'Where is it?' They seemed to be asking about an object."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"I know. But if we've misunderstood something about this quest, and we only have nine days to find the master bolt..." Grover trailed off, and he looked to Percy like he was hoping for answers, but the Son of Poseidon looked as clueless as him. I pressed my lips together. Grover was right. If we don't get this right ... the whole world is at stake.
Percy took a breath. "Look," he said after a small pause, "I haven't been straight with you. I don't care about the master bolt. I agreed to go to the Underworld so I could bring back my mother."
I sat up a little bit straighter. I wasn't surprised, not really. I had my suspicions ever since Percy found out about the quest. He loved his mother, and I have a feeling that if I had a mother such as his, I would risk everything for her too. But I couldn't help but get even angrier. He should have told us from the beginning. We were stuck in this together, we need to trust each other and be truthful to one another. But then it dawned on me, would I have told Percy, Grover and Annabeth if I did this not because of saving the world, but to bring my mother back from the dead?
Grover blew a soft note on his pipes. "I know that, Percy. But are you sure that's the only reason?"
"I'm not doing it to help my father. He doesn't care about me. I don't care about him."
I shook my head. I could tell he was lying. Maybe he didn't realise it, but I know he wants to prove himself to him. He sent Medusa's head to Olympus so his dad could see it. I didn't need to be a satyr to be able to see through Percy.
Grover gazed down from his tree branch. "Look, Percy. I'm not as smart as Annabeth. I don't have special never-to-be-seen-in-centuries powers like Claire. I'm not as brave as you. But I'm pretty good at reading emotions. You're glad your dad is alive. You feel good that he's claimed you, and part of you wants to make him proud. That's why you mailed Medusa's head to Olympus. You wanted him to notice what you'd done."
"Yeah? Well, maybe your satyr emotions work differently than human emotions. Because you're wrong. I don't care what he thinks."
I rolled my eyes. I knew I would say the same thing, despite how much I wanted to make my father proud. Show him that he gave the powers to the right person. Show him I'm strong, that I'd give him and my cabin a good name.
Grover pulled his feet up onto the branch. "Okay, Percy. Whatever."
"Besides, I haven't done anything worth bragging about. We barely got out of New York and we're stuck here with no money and no way west."
Grover looked up at the night sky like he was thinking about that problem. "How about I take first watch, huh? You get some sleep."
He then started to play Mozart, and after a few bars of Piano Concerto no. 12, I was asleep.
*
I HAD A WEIRD DREAM. I was standing in an alley way in Miami, the dark night sky still seemed to be as bright as day with all the lights from the skyscrapers and cars rushing down the street. I stared down the alley way, and my heart jumped when I saw a little girl sleeping under a thin blanket. Her blonde hair was ghostly white in the illuminated night. She looked about five or six, with a button nose and a few freckles flecked across her sun-baked skin. I then saw two small balls of light floating beside her, keeping her warm in the night. That was when it dawned on me, and my heart clenched. It was me. The little girl was six-year-old me.
Look at her, a dark, booming voice echoed throughout the alley way. I glanced up and around to see where it was coming from, but there was no one expect the younger version of me and the people minding their own business walking down the street. The voice chuckled, sending shivers down my spine. Don't you remember what it was like before your father cursed you with those powers?
I took a shaky breath when the scene changed. I was in a small apartment. It was a cosy place, with quilts on the couches and tea steaming on the coffee tables. The whole place sent a warm wash over me, it seemed so familiar. I then realised this was my home, long before my mom left.
A woman then walked into the room. She had beautiful long brown hair and blue eyes. She smiled as she bounced up and down on her feet softly, singing to the small baby in her arms. There were similar things from her to me. I had the same turned up nose and plump, pink lips. The same dimples on either cheek and single freckle on the right ear lobe.
"Mom ..." I whispered, my voice cracking.
Yes, the voice whispered. Did you know, little hero, that your mother was stable until your father, Apollo, told her who he really was? He ruined your life. He took all that away from you so you could serve him on his chess board of Gods and Mortals.
"No ..." I shook my head.
Oh, yes. The voice said. But you are better than that, Claire Moore. Use your powers for what they were meant for until they burn you up. Join me, and once you finish your deeds, I can take away your powers for good, and you can live a normal life ... keep everyone you love safe.
A imagine shimmered in front of me: my adoptive mother and her boyfriend.
You can keep them safe. The voice repeated.
I was tempted. My hand slowly reached out towards the image, but it disappeared before my fingers could reach it. Cold laughter echoed, and I realised, that whoever this voice was, it was evil. I shook my head. "No!" I shouted.
The laughter got louder, and the ground beneath me split, and I fell into the black abyss.
I woke to the bark of a dog.
I sat up. Grover and Annabeth were both awake, while Percy still slept, stirring every now and then. He must have been having a nightmare. My gaze went cold when I saw him, remembering what he said about me the night before. I looked back over to Annabeth and Grover, who were talking amongst themselves. And then I saw the pink poodle.
It was in Grover's lap, and it stared at me, before letting out a small yap.
"No," Grover shook his head at the poodle, "she's not a sunflower."
I blinked. "Excuse me?" I then realised that Grover was talking to the K-nine. "Oh my gods, Grover, you're talking to an actual pink poodle."
The pink poodle barked.
"His name is Gladiola," Grover told me. "Gladiola, meet Claire. Gladiola is our ticket west."
Gladiola seemed to narrow his beady eyes at me, and I pursed my lips before waving at the animal foolishly. "Uh ... hello, Gladiola?"
Gladiola snorted, satisfied.
Annabeth chucked me a bag of nacho flavoured corn chips. "Breakfast." She said.
I dug right in.
A few more minutes passed, and Grover continued talking to Gladiola. When suddenly, Percy's eyes snapped open, startled.
"Well," I said, trying to hide the anger in my voice at the boy, "the zombie lives."
Percy seemed shaken. So much that he didn't even send me a look at my words. He must have had a horrible nightmare. I remembered my dream, and I shivered. "How long was I asleep?"
"Long enough for me to cook breakfast." Annabeth tossed him some nacho flavoured chips as well. "And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend."
Percy frowned when he saw Gladiola. The poodle yapped at him suspiciously. Grover said. "No, he's not."
Percy blinked. "Are you ... talking to that thing?"
Gladiola growled.
"That thing," Grover warned, "is our ticket west. Be nice to him."
The son of Poseidon seemed like he needed a time out. "You can talk to animals?"
Grover ignored the question. "Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy."
Percy glanced to Annabeth, probably wondering whether this was some kind of joke. But Annabeth looked deadly serious. He then turned to stare at me, to see whether I'd crack up, but I crossed my arms, nodding to the poodle.
"Be nice, Barnacle Head."
Percy narrowed his eyes at my new nickname for him. "I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," he said. "Forget it."
"Percy," I said, my voice stern. "I said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle."
Gladiola growled.
Percy said hello to the poodle.
Grover explained that he'd come across Gladiola in the woods and they'd struck up a conversation. The poodle had run away from a rich local family, who'd posted a two hundred dollar reward for his return. Gladiola didn't really want to go back to his family, but he was willing to if it meant helping Grover.
"How does Gladiola know about the reward?" Percy asked.
"He read the signs," Grover said. "Duh."
"Of course," he said sarcastically. "Silly me."
"So we turn in Gladiola," Annabeth explained in her strategy voice, "we get money and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple."
"Not another bus," Percy said warily.
"No," I agreed. Annabeth then pointed downhill, towards train tracks that I hadn't been able to see last night in the dark.
"There's an Amtrack station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the westbound train leaves at noon."
We spent two days on the Amtrack train, heading west through hills, over rivers, and past amber waves of grain.
We weren't attacked once, which I found pretty lucky, but I didn't relax. As a demigod, I knew never to relax, because as soon as you did, you were dead.
The four of us were trying all to keep a low profile, especially Percy. His name and picture were splattered over the front pages of several East Coast newspapers. The Trenton Register-News showed a photo taken by a tourist after we had all got off the Greyhound bus. It showed Percy with a wild look in his eyes. His sword Riptide was a metallic blur in his hand. You could also just see me beside him.
The picture's caption had read:
Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Beside him is a young girl about the same age who is still to be identified. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be travelling with two other teenage accomplices apart from the young girl. His stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture.
"Don't worry," Annabeth told him. "Mortal police could never find us." But she didn't sound so sure.
For the rest of the day, I was trying hard not to snap at Percy as he continued to tap his feet against the hardwood floor of the train beside. I understood he had trouble sitting still, and I had that problem too. I kept on switching positions and looked out the windows. That must have annoyed him too, since eventually, Percy got up and started to pace the train corridors.
I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the police did identify me? Would my real mother come find me? If the news aired to Australia, that is. Would Hannah come and take me by the ear and scold me for getting in so much strife and trouble? I don't know.
Our reward money for retrieving Gladiola the pink poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver. We couldn't get berths in the sleeper car, so we dozed in our seats, which sucked for me, because no matter what, I could never get to sleep on trains or buses.
But that was no problem for Annabeth. As soon as she closed her eyes, she was off snoring, and I couldn't help but chuckle. She was the heaviest sleeper I had ever met. Percy beside me dozed off for a few minutes, but I could tell he was still awake because his eye would squint open and see whether I had fallen asleep. I probably guessed it so I wouldn't see him drool, but in the end, sleep won over him and a line of drool made its way down from the corner of his mouth. I couldn't help but hear the words he continued to mutter under his breath, "I won't help you."
Grover kept snoring and bleating possibly even louder than Annabeth, which made it even harder for me to sleep. He kept waking Percy up and he had to stop me from stuffing his shoe in his mouth to stop him from making noise. Once, he shuffled around and his fake foot fell off. Percy and I had to stick it back on before any of the other passengers noticed.
In the end, I was the only one who got no sleep at all.
Since Percy was awake after a short while, I decided to pipe up a conversation because the sound of our two snoring friends was making the air tense between us, and I still was angry about what he said about me to Grover. But was he right? Was I being a horrible person to him?
"So," I asked him finally, once we got Grover's trainer readjusted. "Who wants your help?"
"What do you mean?" Percy glanced at me.
"When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Who were you dreaming about?"
Percy fell silent for a bit before he explained. I remained quiet. Most in shock, the other in thought. He spoke of a dark voice tainting his thoughts from an endless dark pit, and my blood ran cold. His description reminded me of the voice that spoke to me in my dream. But I didn't tell him that, my mother was a touchy subject that I really didn't want to share. He suggested the voice could have belonged to Hades, but I shook my head.
"That doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs."
"He offered my mother in trade," Percy said. "Who else could do that?"
I pursed my lips in thought. "I guess ... I'm no Annabeth ... but perhaps if he meant, 'Help me rise from the Underworld.' If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?"
Percy shook his head, unable to answer my question and I sighed. None of this quest made sense. The Furies holding back, Percy's dream, The Kindly Ones asking, where is it? Where? If Hades already had the bolt, he wouldn't have his minions out searching for it? Would he?
Maybe Grover sensed my emotions, as he snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables and turned his head. I quickly readjusted his cap so it covered his horns.
"Percy," I looked back to the son of Poseidon, "you can't barter with Hades. You know that, right? He's deceitful, heartless and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't aggressive this time –" I mentally cursed for nearly slipping what happened of Half-blood Hill out. But Percy caught on.
"This time?" He asked. "You mean you've run into them before?"
I avoided eye contact as my fingers trailed over my first summer bead, glazed white with a pine tree painted on it. "Let's just say I've got no love for the Lord of the Dead. You can't be tempted to make a deal for your mom."
"What would you do if it was your mom?"
I scoffed. "Easy. If it was my biological mom? I'd leave her to rot in Tartarus."
"You're not serious?"
I looked to Percy, my gaze hard. "My mom resented me ever since she found out I was a half-blood, Percy," I told him. "Couldn't deal with it, I suppose. When she found out, she asked Dad to take me back and raise me somewhere far away. Dad was furious, he told her that heroes had to be raised by their mortal parent. Left me on the streets of Miami defenceless and ran away with my younger brother to Australia."
"You ... you have a brother? Is he like us?"
I could feel tears forming in my eyes and I turned to look out the window. "I dunno ..." I sighed. "Timmy's four years younger than me. Dad came back the year before Mom went bad. I remember him vaguely ... he seemed different than who I met before we left for this quest –"
"Wait ... you met Apollo before we left?"
I ignored him, "—He seemed more ... fatherly, I suppose? He spent a lot of time with me. We would colour and draw together and he'd was more romantic to my mother. But he also had a fire in his eyes, a dangerous one that I still remember as clear as day. He was Apollo, but he was not at the same time. Then, after two months, he left, and next thing I remember, Mom was pregnant, but she was different as well. She ignored me most of the time, and always would curse at her belly. It was as though she was terrified of me, as though I was a monster."
I quickly wiped a tear from my eyes before Percy could see, but I'm pretty sure he still did. A small silent passed before Percy spoke in a soft voice.
"My mom married a really, really awful guy." I glanced at him as he spoke. His sea-green eyes were dull and angry at the same time. Like a storm ready to burst. "He's a terrible person, treats her horribly, and me I guess. Grover said she did it to protect me, to hide me in the scent of a human family. Maybe ... maybe your mom left you on that street because she knew that you'd be found and live a better life at Camp Half-Blood. Your father is the god of prophecies, right? Maybe he told her what you were destined for."
I shook my head, my fingers worrying over my necklace. "That's what I fear. Maybe Dad knew he had to give me the power of Photokinesis before he actually did it, and he told Mom, and she freaked out. My mom wasn't really capable of having children, she'd snap most of the time. And after Dad left the second time, she got worse and worse and worse. Finally, she couldn't deal with me anymore, she threw me out and left me to die. I still feel bad, that I left Timmy with her. But she just said that she needed to buy some rice cereal for Timmy and told me to wait in that alley way ... and she didn't come back. I waited and waited for hours, I cried so much my throat hurt. But no one saw me, except my father ... and he ..." I trailed off, but Percy already knew what I was going to say.
"How old were you?" He asked me softly, his eyes wide.
"Six. A year younger when I started camp at the age of seven."
"But ... you couldn't have got all the way to Half-Blood Hill by yourself."
"Not alone, no. But I like to think Apollo watched over me, guided me towards help. I made a couple of friends that I never expected. They took care for me for nearly two years."
I was glad Percy asked nothing of me more because I was afraid that I'd burst out crying if I said anymore.