Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Demigod Files

winter semester at Goode High School, sitting in the auditorium with all the other freshmen and trying to finish my I-didn’t-read-it-but-I’mpretending-like-I-did essay on A Tale of Two Cities , when Mrs. O’Leary burst onto the stage, barking like crazy.
    Mrs. O’Leary is my pet hellhound. She’s a shaggy black monster the size of a Hummer, with razor fangs, steel-sharp claws, and glowing red eyes. She’s really sweet, but usually she stays at Camp Half-Blood, our demigod training camp. I was a little surprised to see her on stage, trampling over the Christmas trees and Santa’s elves and the rest of the Winter Wonderland set.
    Everyone looked up. I was sure the other kids were going to panic and run for the exits, but they just started snickering and laughing. A couple of the girls said, “Awww, cute!”
    Our English teacher, Dr. Boring (I’m not kidding; that’s his real name), adjusted his glasses and frowned.
    “All right,” he said. “Whose poodle?”
    I sighed in relief. Thank gods for the Mist—the magical veil that keeps humans from seeing things the way they really are. I’d seen it bend reality plenty of times before, but Mrs. O’Leary as a poodle? That was impressive.
    “Um, my poodle, sir,” I spoke up. “Sorry! It must’ve followed me.”
    Somebody behind me started whistling “Mary had a Little Lamb.” More kids cracked up.
    “Enough!” Dr. Boring snapped. “Percy Jackson, this is a final exam. I cannot have poodles—”
    “WOOF!” Mrs. O’Leary’s bark shook the auditorium. She wagged her tail, knocking over a few more elves. Then she crouched on her front paws and stared at me like she wanted me to follow.
    “I’ll get her out of here, Dr. Boring,” I promised. “I’m finished anyway.”
    I closed my test booklet and ran toward the stage. Mrs. O’Leary bounded for the exit and I followed, the other kids still laughing and calling out behind me, “See ya, Poodle Boy!”
    Mrs. O’Leary ran down East Eighty-first Street toward the river.
    “Slow down!” I yelled. “Where are you going?”
    I got some strange looks from pedestrians, but this was New York, so a boy chasing a poodle probably wasn’t the weirdest thing they’d ever seen.
    Mrs. O’Leary kept well ahead of me. She turned to bark every once in a while as if to say Move it, slowpoke! She ran three blocks north, straight into Carl Schurz Park. By the time I caught up with her, she’d leaped an iron fence and disappeared into a huge topiary wall of snow-covered bushes.
    “Aw, come on,” I complained. I hadn’t had a chance to grab my coat back at school. I was already freezing, but I climbed the fence and plunged into the frozen shrubbery.
    On the other side was a clearing—a half acre of icy grass ringed with bare trees. Mrs. O’Leary was sniffing around, wagging her tail like crazy. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. In front of me, the steel-colored East River flowed sluggishly. White plumes billowed from the rooftops in Queens. Behind me, the Upper East Side loomed cold and silent.
    I wasn’t sure why, but the back of my neck started to tingle. I took out my ballpoint pen and uncapped it. Immediately it grew into my bronze sword, Riptide, its blade glowing faintly in the winter light.
    Mrs. O’Leary lifted her head. Her nostrils quivered.
    “What is it, girl?” I whispered.
    The bushes rustled and a golden deer burst through. When I say gold, I don’t mean yellow. This thing had metallic fur and horns that looked like genuine fourteen-karat. It shimmered with an aura of golden light, making it almost too bright to look at. It was probably the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
    Mrs. O’Leary licked her lips like she was thinking deer burg ers! Then the bushes rustled again and a figure in a hooded parka leaped into the clearing, an arrow notched in her bow.
    I raised my sword. The girl aimed at me—then froze.
    “Percy?” She pushed back the silvery hood of her parka. Her black hair was longer than I remembered, but I knew those bright blue eyes and the silver tiara that marked her as the first lieutenant of Artemis.
    “Thalia!” I said. “What are you doing here?”
    “Following the golden deer,” she said, like that should be obvious. “It’s the sacred animal of Artemis. I figured it was some sort of sign. And, um . . .” She nodded nervously at Mrs. O’Leary. “You want to tell me what that’s doing here?”
    “That’s my pet— Mrs. O’Leary, no!