Thursday, May 17, 2012

The Lightning Thief - Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 In a way, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when
things go wrong. For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by
monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think
that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force really is trying
to mess up your day.
 So there we were, Annabeth and Grover and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey
riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the
Hudson reeking in our noses.
 Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly
Ones. All three at once."
 I was pretty much in shock myself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in my ears. But Annabeth
kept pulling us along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better."
 "All our money was back there," I reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything."
 "Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—"
 "What did you want me to do? Let you get killed?"
 "You didn't need to protect me, Percy. I would've been fine."
 "Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine."
 "Shut up, goat boy," said Annabeth.
 Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans ... a perfectly good bag of tin cans."
 We sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry.
 After a few minutes, Annabeth fell into line next to me. "Look, I..." Her voice faltered. "I appreciate your
coming back for us, okay? That was really brave."
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 "We're a team, right?"
 She was silent for a few more steps. "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 asked her.
 "No ... only short field trips. My dad—"
 "The history professor."
 "Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Bloodis  my home." She was rushing
her words out now, as if she were afraid somebody might try to stop her. "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."
 If I didn't know better, I could've sworn I heard doubt in her voice.
 "You're pretty good with that knife," I said.
 "You think so?"
 "Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me."
 I couldn't really see, but I thought she might've smiled.
 "You know," she said, "maybe I should tell you ... Something funny back on the bus ..."
 Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill toot-toot-toot,  like the sound of an owl being
 "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 puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff.
 Instead of finding a path, I immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-size knot on my head.
 Add to the list of superpowers I did not have: infrared vision.
 After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miser-able for another mile or so, I started to see light up
ahead: the colors of a neon sign. I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. I realized I hadn't
eaten anything unhealthy since I'd arrived at Half-Blood Hill, where we lived on grapes, bread, cheese,
and extra-lean-cut nymph-prepared barbecue. This boy needed a double cheeseburger.
 We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a
closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the
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source of the neon light and the good smell.
 It wasn't a fast-food restaurant like I'd hoped. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell
lawn flamin-gos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that. The main building was a
long, low warehouse, sur-rounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was impossible for
me to read, because if there's anything worse for my dyslexia than regular English, it's red cursive neon
 To me, it looked like: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM.
 "What the heck does that say?" I asked.
 "I don't know," Annabeth said.
 She loved reading so much, I'd forgotten she was dyslexic, too.
 Grover translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium."
 Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling
and wav-ing, as if they were about to get their picture taken.
 I crossed the street, following the smell of the ham-burgers.
 "Hey ..." Grover warned.
 "The lights are on inside," Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open."
 "Snack bar," I said wistfully.
 "Snack bar," she agreed.
 "Are you two crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird."
 We ignored him.
 The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the
pipes, which gave Grover the creeps.
 "Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated."Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!"
 We stopped at the warehouse door.
 "Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters."
 "Your nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth told him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you
 "Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian."
 "You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," I reminded him.
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 "Those are vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These stat-ues are ... looking at me."
 Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle Eastern woman—at least, I
assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that cov-ered everything but her
hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that
was about all I could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant,
so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady.
 Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone.
Where are your parents?"
 "They're ... um ..." Annabeth started to say.
 "We're orphans," I said.
 "Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded alien in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!"
 "We got separated from our caravan," I said. "Our cir-cus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meet him
at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station.
Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?"
 "Oh, my dears," the woman said. "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."
 We thanked her and went inside.
 Annabeth muttered to me, "Circus caravan?"
 "Always have a strategy, right?"
 "Your head is full of kelp."
 The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits
and with dif-ferent expressions on their faces. I was thinking you'd have to have a pretty huge garden to
fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. But mostly, I was thinking about food.
 Go ahead, call me an idiot for walking into a strange lady's shop like that just because I was hungry, but
I do impulsive stuff sometimes. Plus, you've never smelled Aunty Em's burgers. The aroma was like
laughing gas in the den-tist's chair—it made everything else go away.  I barely noticed Grover's nervous
whimpers, or the way the statues' eyes seemed to follow me, or the fact that Aunty Em had locked the
door behind us.
 All I cared about was finding the dining area. And sure enough, there it was at the back of the
warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese
dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front.
 "Please, sit down," Aunty Em said.
 "Awesome," I said.
 "Um," Grover said reluctantly, "we don't have any money, ma'am."
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 Before I could jab him in the ribs, Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case,
yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans."
 "Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth said.
 Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done some-thing wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as
quickly, so I figured it must've been my imagination.
 "Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child." Only later did I wonder
how she knew Annabeth's name, even though we had never intro-duced ourselves.
 Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she'd
brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French
 I was halfway through my burger before I remembered to breathe.
 Annabeth slurped her shake.
 Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still
looked too nervous to eat.
 "What's that hissing noise?" he asked.
 I listened, but didn't hear anything. Annabeth shook her head.
 "Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover."
 "I take vitamins. For my ears."
 "That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax."
 Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her head-dress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and
interlaced her fingers and watched us eat. It was a little unsettling, hav-ing someone stare at me when I
couldn't see her face, but I was feeling satisfied after the burger, and a little sleepy, and I figured the least
I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess.
 "So, you sell gnomes," I said, trying to sound interested.
 "Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary
is very popular, you know."
 "A lot of business on this road?"
 "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 if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl
holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But
something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even ter-rified.
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 "Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred.
They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."
 "You make these statues yourself?" I asked.
 "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. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company."
The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn't help feeling sorry for her.
 Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?"
 "It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for chil-dren, 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 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 sure what she meant, but I felt bad for her. My eyelids kept getting heavier, my full stomach
making me sleepy. Poor old lady. Who would want to hurt somebody so nice?
 "Percy?" Annabeth was shaking me to get my attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster
will be wait-ing."
 She sounded tense. I wasn't sure why. Grover was eating the waxed paper off the tray now, but if Aunty
Em found that strange, she didn't say anything.
 "Such beautiful gray eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "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."
 "Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "The ringmaster is waiting! Right!"
 I didn't want to leave. I felt full and content. Aunty Em was so nice. I wanted to stay with her a while.
 "Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "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
 Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Percy—"
 "Sure we can," I said. I was irritated with Annabeth for being so bossy, so rude to an old lady who'd just
fed us for free. "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?"
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 "Yes, Annabeth," the woman purred. "No harm."
 I could tell Annabeth didn't 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 in the middle, I think, and the two young gen-tlemen on either side."
 "Not much light for a photo," I remarked.
 "Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?"
 "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 large smile?"
 Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle
 "Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear."
 She still had no camera in her hands.
 "Percy—" Annabeth said.
 Some instinct warned me to listen to Annabeth, but I was fighting the sleepy feeling, the comfortable 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...."
 "Percy, 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 whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished.
Her invisible hands pushed Grover and me both off the bench.
 I was on the ground, looking at Aunt Em's sandaled feet.
 I could hear Grover scrambling off in one direction, Annabeth in another. But I was too dazed to move.
 Then I heard a strange, rasping sound above me. My eyes rose to Aunty Em's hands, which had turned
gnarled and warty, with sharp bronze talons for fingernails.
 I almost looked higher, but somewhere off to my left Annabeth screamed, "No! Don't!"
 More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above me, from ... from about where Aunty Em's head
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would be.
 "Run!" Grover bleated. I heard him racing across the gravel, yelling, "Maia!" to kick-start his flying
 I couldn't move. I stared at Aunty Em's gnarled claws, and tried to fight the groggy trance the old
woman had put me in.
 "Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she told me soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you
have to do is look up."
 I fought the urge to obey. Instead I looked to one side and saw one of those glass spheres people put in
gardens— a gazing ball. I could see Aunty Em's dark reflection in the orange glass; her headdress was
gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving, writhing like serpents.
 Aunty Em.
 Aunty "M."
 How could I have been so stupid?
 Think, I told myself. How did Medusa die in the myth?
 But I couldn't think. Something told me that in the myth Medusa had been asleep when she was attacked
by my namesake, Perseus. She wasn't anywhere near asleep now. If she wanted, she could take those
talons right now and rake open my face.
 "The Gray-Eyed One did this to me, Percy," Medusa said, and she didn't sound anything like a monster.
Her voice invited me to look up, to sympathize with a poor old grandmother. "Annabeth's mother, the
cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this."
 "Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice shouted, some-where in the statuary. "Run, Percy!"
 "Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting 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."  
 "No," I muttered. I tried to make my legs move.
 "Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "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 yelled, "Duck!"
 I turned, and there he was in the night sky, flying in from twelve o'clock with his winged  shoes fluttering,
Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from
side to side. He was navigating by ears and nose alone.
 "Duck!" he yelled again. "I'll get her!"
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 That finally jolted me into action. Knowing Grover, I was sure he'd miss Medusa and nail me. I dove to
one side.
 At first I figured 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.
 I scrambled away and hid in the statuary while Grover swooped down for another pass.
 "Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spit-ting.
 Right next to me, Annabeth's voice said, "Percy!"
 I jumped so high my feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. "Jeez! Don't do that!"
 Annabeth took off her Yankees cap and became visible. 'You have to cut her head off."
 "What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here."
 "Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but..." Annabeth swallowed, as if she were about to
make a difficult admission. "But you've 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."
 "What? I can't—"
 "Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?"
 She pointed to a pair of statue lovers, a man and a woman with their arms around each other, turned to
stone by the monster.
 Annabeth grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better." She
studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some distor-tion. The reflection's size should be off
by a factor of—"
 "Would you speak English?"
 "I am!"  She tossed me the glass ball. "Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly."
 "Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere above us. "I think she's unconscious!"
 "Maybe not," Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch.
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 "Hurry," Annabeth told me. "Grover's got a great nose, but he'll eventually crash."
 I took out my pen and uncapped it. The bronze blade of Riptide elongated in my hand.
 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 a 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 defend-ing myself.
 But she let me approach—twenty feet, ten feet.
 I could see the reflection of her face now. Surely it wasn't reallythat  ugly. The green swirls of the gazing
ball must be distorting it, making it look worse.
 "You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy," 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, "Percy, don't listen to her!"
 Medusa cackled. "Too late."
 She lunged at me with her talons.
 I slashed up 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?" she asked me, her voice trembling.
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 "Yeah," I decided, though I felt like throwing up my double cheeseburger. "Why didn't ... why didn't the
head evaporate?"
 "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," I 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. I recapped my sword. Together, the three of us stumbled back to
the ware-house.
 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 I said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?"
 Annabeth flashed me an irritated look. "Your dad, actu-ally. Don't you remember? Medusa was
Poseidon's girl-friend. 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."
 My face was burning. "Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa."
 Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of my voice, she said: "'It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the
 "Forget it," I said. "You're impossible."
 "You're insufferable."
 "Hey!" Grover interrupted. "You two are giving me a migraine, and satyrs don't even get migraines. 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!
 I was angry, not just with Annabeth or her mom, but with all the gods for this whole quest, for getting us
blown off the road and in two major fights the very first day out from camp. At this rate, we'd never
make it to L.A. alive, much less before the summer solstice.
 What had Medusa said?
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 Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue.
 I got up. "I'll be back."
 "Percy," Annabeth called after me. "What are you—"
 I searched the back of the warehouse until I found Medusa's office. Her account book showed her six
most recent sales, all shipments to the Underworld to decorate Hades and Persephone's garden.
According to one freight bill, the Underworld's billing address was DOA Recording Studios, West
Hollywood, California. I folded up the bill and stuffed it in my pocket.
 In the cash register I found twenty dollars, a few  golden drachmas, and some packing slips for Hermes
Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins. I rummaged around the rest of the
office until I found the right-size box.
 I went back to the picnic table, packed up Medusa's head, and filled out a delivery slip:
 The Gods
 Mount Olympus
 600th Floor,
 Empire State Building
 New York, NY
 With best wishes,
 "They're not going to like that," Grover warned. "They'll think you're impertinent."
 I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash
register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop!
 "I amimpertinent," I said.
 I looked at Annabeth, daring her to criticize.
 She didn't. She seemed resigned to the fact that I had a major talent for ticking off the gods. "Come on,"
she mut-tered. "We need a new plan."


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