The Lightning Thief

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.
    “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 warehouse.
    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, actually. Don’t you remember? Medusa was Poseidon’s girlfriend. 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 harm?’”
    “Forget it,” I said. “You’re impossible.”
    “You’re insufferable.”
    “You’re—”
    “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?
    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,
PERCY JACKSON
     
    “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 am impertinent,” 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 muttered. “We need a new plan.”

WE GET ADVICE FROM A POODLE
    W e were pretty miserable that