Chapter 53

The Friday before winter break, my mom packed me an overnight bag and a few of her divine blue cookies and took me to a new boarding school. We picked up Annabeth and Thalia on the way there. 

It was an eight-hour drive from New York to Bar Harbor, Maine. Sleet and snow pounded the highway. Annabeth, Thalia, and I hadn't seen each other in months, but between the blizzard and the thought of what we were about to do, we were too nervous to talk much. Except for my mom. She talks more when she's nervous. By the time we finally got to Westover Hall, it was getting dark, and she'd told Annabeth and Thalia every embarrassing baby story there was to tell about me.

Thalia wiped the fog off the car window and peered outside. "Oh, yeah. This'll be fun."

Westover Hall looked like an evil knight's castle. It was all black stone, with towers and slit windows and a big set of wooden double doors. It stood on a snowy cliff overlooking this big frosty forest on one side and the gray churning ocean on the other.

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait?" my mother asked.

"No, thanks, Mom," I said. "Besides, you should get back home so you can get Estelle and Abigale ready for their first day of Preschool."

"I still can't believe that father of yours left your 3 year old at that hotel all these years." Sally sighed annoyed.

"Trust me, when I see him I'll ring his ear for the both of us, you want me to shadow travel you back or do you want to drive?"

"Can you shadow travel me back please, I am kinda tired after 8 hours of driving." Sally responed yawning. "But how will you get back- right nevermind, Why didn't you three just shadow travel here anyways?"

"Because someone begged me not to." I responded. "Well get some rest when you get home."

"It's okay, Ms. Jackson." Annabeth smiled reassuringly. Her blond hair was tucked into a ski cap and her gray eyes were the same color as the ocean. "We'll keep him out of trouble."

My mom seemed to relax a little. She thinks Annabeth is the most levelheaded demigod ever to hit eighth grade. She's sure Annabeth often keeps me from getting killed. She's right, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

"All right, dears," my mom said. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, Ms. Jackson," Thalia said. "Thanks for the ride."

"Extra sweaters? You have my cell phone number?"

"Mom—"

"Your ambrosia and nectar, Percy? And a golden drachma in case you need to contact camp?"

"Mom, seriously! We'll be fine. I'll send you home now, Love you."

"I love you too, baby." Sally replied smiling as the shadows consumed her and the car before returning to how they where.

"I still can't believe you are the son of all three, Big Three gods." Thalia muttered. "Your mom is really cool, Percy."

"She's the family Queen." I admitted. "My step-dad, my sisters and I always spoil her rotten, she deserves it after what she been through."

I fixed my leather trench coat as I looked at the building. 

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

Thalia looked at the castle and shivered. "You're right. I wonder what he found here that made him send the distress call."

I stared up at the dark towers of Westover Hall. "My guess, demigods of some powerful god," I replied, not hinting I knew the truth.

The oak doors groaned open, and the three of us stepped into the entry hall in a swirl of snow.

All I could say was, "Whoa."

The place was huge. The walls were lined with battle flags and weapon displays: antique rifles, battle axes, and a bunch of other stuff. I mean, I knew Westover was a military school and all, but the decorations seemed like overkill. Literally.

I could already sense something wrong in this place. Something dangerous. Thalia was rubbing her silver bracelet, her favorite magic item. I knew we were thinking the same thing. A fight was coming.

Annabeth started to say, "I wonder where—"

The doors slammed shut behind us.

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

I could hear music echoing from the other end of the hall. It sounded like dance music.

We stashed our overnight bags behind a pillar and started down the hall. We hadn't gone very far when I heard footsteps on the stone floor, and a man and woman marched out of the shadows to intercept us.

They both had short gray hair and black military-style uniforms with red trim. The woman had a wispy mustache, and the guy was clean-shaven, which seemed kind of backward to me. They both walked stiffly, like they had broomsticks taped to their spines.

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

"Ha!" the man snapped. "Visitors are not allowed at the dance! You shall be eee-jected!"

He had an accent—French, maybe. He pronounced his J like in Jacques, He was tall, with a hawkish face. His nostrils flared when he spoke, which made it really hard not to stare up his nose, and his eyes were two different colors—one brown, one blue—like an alley cat's.

Thalia snapped her fingers. The sound was sharp and loud. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I felt a gust of wind ripple out from her hand, across the room. It washed over all of us, making the banners rustle 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 and Percy. We're in the eighth grade."

The male teacher narrowed his two-colored eyes, but the man seemed to be hesitating. He looked at his colleague. "Ms. Gottschalk, do you know these students?"

Despite the danger we were in, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. A teacher named Got Chalk? He had to be kidding. The woman blinked, like someone had just woken her up from a trance. "I… yes. I believe I do, sir." She frowned at us. "Annabeth. Thalia. Percy. What are you doing away from the gymnasium?"

Before we could answer, I heard more footsteps, and Grover ran up, breathless. "You made it! You—"

He stopped short when he saw the teachers. "Oh, Mrs. Gottschalk. Dr. Thorn! I, uh—"

"What is it, Mr. Underwood?" said the man. His tone made it clear that he detested Grover. "What do you mean, they made it? These students live here."

"He is talking about the punch," I spoke up instantly snapping my fingers again adding another layer to the mist. "we were in charge of making the punch for the ball."

Dr. Thorn glared at us, but then Mrs. Gottschalk said dreamily, "Yes, the punch is excellent. Now run along, all of you. You are not to leave the gymnasium again!"

We didn't wait to be told twice. We left with a lot of "Yes, ma'ams" and "Yes, sirs" and a couple of salutes, just because it seemed like the thing to do.

Grover hustled us down the hall in the direction of the music. I could feel the teachers' eyes on my back, but I walked closely to Thalia and asked in a low voice, "Good thinking with the mist, if you want I can show you a more quicker and silent method that doesn't get the mosnters attention."

"I will take you on that-" Thalia stopped mid sentance and turned to me. "Wait you found the monster?"

"Yep, just keep an eye on Dr. Thorn." Grover hurried us to a door that had GYM written on the glass.

"That was close!" Grover said. "Thank the gods you got here!"

Annabeth and Thalia both hugged Grover. I gave him a big high five.

It was good to see him after so many months. He'd gotten a little taller and had sprouted a few more whiskers, but otherwise he looked like he always did when he passed for human—a red cap on his curly brown hair to hide his goat horns, baggy jeans and sneakers with fake feet to hide his furry legs and hooves. He was wearing a black T-shirt that read. WESTOVER HALL: GRUNT. The school should probably remake those shirts. They looked to tacky.

"So what's the emergency?" Annabeth asked.

Grover took a deep breath. "I found two."

"Two half-bloods?" Thalia asked, amazed. "Here?"

Grover nodded. Finding one half-blood was rare enough. This year, Chiron had put the satyrs on emergency overtime and sent them all over the country, scouring schools from fourth grade through high school for possible recruits. These were desperate times. We were losing campers. We needed all the new fighters we could find. The problem was, there just weren't that many demigods out there.

"A brother and a sister, they're ten and twelve. I don't know their parentage, but they're strong. We're running out of time, though. I need help. From what I gathered there is only one monster." Grover looked nervous. "He suspects. I don't think he's positive yet, but this is the last day of term. I'm sure he won't let them leave campus without finding out. It may be our last chance! Every time I try to get close to them, he's always there, blocking me. I don't know what to do!"

Grover looked at me and Thalia desperately as if not sure who to ask for help.

"Right," she said. "These half-bloods are at the dance?"

Grover nodded.

"Then let's dance," Thalia said. 

"If we are going to dance, than let's crash this pary." I exclaimed. "Who knows how to dance?"

Only Annabeth and Thalia rose there hands. 

"So whats the plan, Thunder-Head?" Thalia asked stretching a bit. 

"We need to pair up, Annabeth with me and Thalia you go with Grover. Keep an eye out for the siblings, they should be located at the bleechers somewhere from what their scent tells me."

"You can smell them?" Thalia and Annabeth asked shocked.

"I can do alot more than that." I replied as I opened the doors. 

Weird thing about military schools: the kids go absolutely nuts when there's a special event and they get to be out of uniform. I guess it's because everything's so strict the rest of the time, they feel like they've got to overcompensate or something.

There were black and red balloons all over the gym floor, and guys were kicking them in each others faces, or trying to strangle each other with the crepe-paper streamers taped to the walls. Girls moved around in football huddles, the way they always do, wearing lots of makeup and spaghetti-strap tops and brightly colored pants and shoes that looked like torture devices. Every once in a while they'd surround some poor guy like a pack of piranhas, shrieking and giggling, and when they finally moved on, the guy would have ribbons in his hair and a bunch of lipstick graffiti all over his face. Some of the older guys looked—uncomfortable, hanging out at the edges of the gym and trying to hide, like any minute they might have to fight for their lives.

"Our mission, rescue the demigods!" I declare, "Also have some fun and dance!"