The Lightning Thief

been a little quicker . . .”
    “Stop it,” Annabeth said. “No one blames you. Thalia didn’t blame you either.”
    “She sacrificed herself to save us,” he said miserably. “Her death was my fault. The Council of Cloven Elders said so.”
    “Because you wouldn’t leave two other half-bloods behind?” I said. “That’s not fair.”
    “Percy’s right,” Annabeth said. “I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you, Grover. Neither would Luke. We don’t care what the council says.”
    Grover kept sniffling in the dark. “It’s just my luck. I’m the lamest satyr ever, and I find the two most powerful half-bloods of the century, Thalia and Percy.”
    “You’re not lame,” Annabeth insisted. “You’ve got more courage than any satyr I’ve ever met. Name one other who would dare go to the Underworld. I bet Percy is really glad you’re here right now.”
    She kicked me in the shin.
    “Yeah,” I said, which I would’ve done even without the kick. “It’s not luck that you found Thalia and me, Grover. You’ve got the biggest heart of any satyr ever. You’re a natural searcher. That’s why you’ll be the one who finds Pan.”
    I heard a deep, satisfied sigh. I waited for Grover to say something, but his breathing only got heavier. When the sound turned to snoring, I realized he’d fallen sleep.
    “How does he do that?” I marveled.
    “I don’t know,” Annabeth said. “But that was really a nice thing you told him.”
    “I meant it.”
    We rode in silence for a few miles, bumping around on the feed sacks. The zebra munched a turnip. The lion licked the last of the hamburger meat off his lips and looked at me hopefully.
    Annabeth rubbed her necklace like she was thinking deep, strategic thoughts.
    “That pine-tree bead,” I said. “Is that from your first year?”
    She looked. She hadn’t realized what she was doing.
    “Yeah,” she said. “Every August, the counselors pick the most important event of the summer, and they paint it on that year’s beads. I’ve got Thalia’s pine tree, a Greek trireme on fire, a centaur in a prom dress—now that was a weird summer. . . .”
    “And the college ring is your father’s?”
    “That’s none of your—” She stopped herself. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
    “You don’t have to tell me.”
    “No . . . it’s okay.” She took a shaky breath. “My dad sent it to me folded up in a letter, two summers ago. The ring was, like, his main keepsake from Athena. He wouldn’t have gotten through his doctoral program at Harvard without her. . . . That’s a long story. Anyway, he said he wanted me to have it. He apologized for being a jerk, said he loved me and missed me. He wanted me to come home and live with him.”
    “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
    “Yeah, well . . . the problem was, I believed him. I tried to go home for that school year, but my stepmom was the same as ever. She didn’t want her kids put in danger by living with a freak. Monsters attacked. We argued. Monsters attacked. We argued. I didn’t even make it through winter break. I called Chiron and came right back to Camp Half-Blood.”
    “You think you’ll ever try living with your dad again?”
    She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Please. I’m not into self-inflicted pain.”
    “You shouldn’t give up,” I told her. “You should write him a letter or something.”
    “Thanks for the advice,” she said coldly, “but my father’s made his choice about who he wants to live with.”
    We passed another few miles of silence.
    “So if the gods fight,” I said, “will things line up the way they did with the Trojan War? Will it be Athena versus Poseidon?”
    She put her head against the backpack Ares had given us, and closed her eyes. “I don’t know what my mom will do. I just know I’ll fight next to you.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you’re my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?”
    I couldn’t think of an answer for that. Fortunately I didn’t have to. Annabeth was asleep.
    I had trouble following her example, with Grover snoring and an albino lion staring hungrily at me, but eventually I closed my eyes.
    * * *
    My nightmare started out as something I’d dreamed a million times before: I was being forced to take a standardized test while wearing a straitjacket. All the other kids were going out to recess, and the teacher kept saying, Come on, Percy. You’re not stupid, are you? Pick up your pencil.
    Then the dream strayed from the