The Battle of the Labyrinth

down the hallway. I’d never been so glad to hear his voice.
    The cheerleaders backed off. I was so anxious to get past them I accidentally kneed Kelli in the thigh.
    Clang.
    Her leg made a hollow, metallic sound, like I’d just hit a flagpole.
    “Ow,” she muttered. “Watch it, fish .”
    I glanced down, but her leg looked like a regular old leg. I was too freaked out to ask questions. I dashed into the hall, the cheerleaders laughing behind me.
    “There you are!” Paul told me. “Welcome to Goode!”
    “Hey, Paul—uh, Mr. Blofis.” I glanced back, but the weird cheerleaders had disappeared.
    “Percy, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
    “Yeah, uh—”
    Paul clapped me on the back. “Listen, I know you’re nervous, but don’t worry. We get a lot of kids here with ADHD and dyslexia. The teachers know how to help.”
    I almost wanted to laugh. If only ADHD and dyslexia were my biggest worries. I mean, I knew Paul was trying to help, but if I told him the truth about me, he’d either think I was crazy or he’d run away screaming. Those cheerleaders, for instance. I had a bad feeling about them. . . .
    Then I looked down the hall, and I remembered I had another problem. The redheaded girl I’d seen on the front steps was just coming in the main entrance.
    Don’t notice me, I prayed.
    She noticed me. Her eyes widened.
    “Where’s the orientation?” I asked Paul.
    “The gym. That way. But—”
    “Bye.”
    “Percy?” he called, but I was already running.
    I thought I’d lost her.
    A bunch of kids were heading for the gym, and soon I was just one of three hundred fourteen-year-olds all crammed into the bleachers. A marching band played an out-of-tune fight song that sounded like somebody hitting a bag of cats with a metal baseball bat. Older kids, probably student council members, stood up front modeling the Goode school uniform and looking all, Hey, we’re cool . Teachers milled around, smiling and shaking hands with students. The walls of the gym were plastered with big purple-andwhite banners that said WELCOME FUTURE FRESHMEN, GOODE IS GOOD, WE’RE ALL FAMILY, and a bunch of other happy slogans that pretty much made me want to throw up.
    None of the other freshmen looked thrilled to be here, either. I mean, coming to orientation in June, when school doesn’t even start until September, is not cool. But at Goode, “We prepare to excel early!” At least that’s what the brochure said.
    The marching band stopped playing. A guy in a pinstripe suit came to the microphone and started talking, but the sound echoed around the gym so I had no idea what he was saying. He might’ve been gargling.
    Someone grabbed my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
    It was her: my redheaded nightmare.
    “Rachel Elizabeth Dare,” I said.
    Her jaw dropped like she couldn’t believe I had the nerve to remember her name. “And you’re Percy somebody. I didn’t get your full name last December when you tried to kill me.”
    “Look, I wasn’t—I didn’t—What are you doing here?”
    “Same as you, I guess. Orientation.”
    “You live in New York?”
    “What, you thought I lived at Hoover Dam?”
    It had never occurred to me. Whenever I thought about her (and I’m not saying I thought about her; she just like crossed my mind from time to time, okay?), I always figured she lived in the Hoover Dam area, since that’s where I’d met her. We’d spent maybe ten minutes together, during which time I’d accidentally swung a sword at her, she’d saved my life, and I’d run away chased by a band of supernatural killing machines. You know, your typical chance meeting.
    Some guy behind us whispered, “Hey, shut up. The cheerleaders are talking!”
    “Hi, guys!” a girl bubbled into the microphone. It was the blonde I’d seen at the entrance. “My name is Tammi, and this is, like, Kelli.” Kelli did a cartwheel.
    Next to me, Rachel yelped like someone had stuck her with a pin. A few kids looked over and snickered, but Rachel just stared at the cheerleaders in horror. Tammi didn’t seem to notice the outburst. She started talking about all the great ways we could get involved during our freshman year.
    “Run,” Rachel told me. “Now.”
    “Why?”
    Rachel didn’t explain. She pushed her way to the edge of the bleachers, ignoring the frowning teachers and grumbling kids she was stepping on.
    I hesitated. Tammi was explaining how we were about to break into small groups and tour the