The Lightning Thief

usual.
    I looked over at the next desk and saw a girl sitting there, also wearing a straitjacket. She was my age, with unruly black, punk-style hair, dark eyeliner around her stormy green eyes, and freckles across her nose. Somehow, I knew who she was. She was Thalia, daughter of Zeus.
    She struggled against the straitjacket, glared at me in frustration, and snapped, Well, Seaweed Brain? One of us has to get out of here.
    She’s right, my dream-self thought. I’m going back to that cavern. I’m going to give Hades a piece of my mind.
    The straitjacket melted off me. I fell through the classroom floor. The teacher’s voice changed until it was cold and evil, echoing from the depths of a great chasm.
    Percy Jackson, it said. Yes, the exchange went well, I see.
    I was back in the dark cavern, spirits of the dead drifting around me. Unseen in the pit, the monstrous thing was speaking, but this time it wasn’t addressing me. The numbing power of its voice seemed directed somewhere else.
    And he suspects nothing? it asked.
    Another voice, one I almost recognized, answered at my shoulder. Nothing, my lord. He is as ignorant as the rest.
    I looked over, but no one was there. The speaker was invisible.
    Deception upon deception, the thing in the pit mused aloud. Excellent.
    Truly, my lord, said the voice next to me, you are well-named the Crooked One. But was it really necessary? I could have brought you what I stole directly —
    You? the monster said in scorn. You have already shown your limits. You would have failed me completely had I not intervened.
    But, my lord—
    Peace, little servant. Our six months have bought us much. Zeus’s anger has grown. Poseidon has played his most desperate card. Now we shall use it against him. Shortly you shall have the reward you wish, and your revenge. As soon as both items are delivered into my hands . . . but wait. He is here.
    What? The invisible servant suddenly sounded tense. You summoned him, my lord?
    No. The full force of the monster’s attention was now pouring over me, freezing me in place. Blast his father’s blood—he is too changeable, too unpredictable. The boy brought himself hither.
    Impossible! the servant cried.
    For a weakling such as you, perhaps, the voice snarled. Then its cold power turned back on me. So . . . you wish to dream of your quest, young half-blood? Then I will oblige.
    The scene changed.
    I was standing in a vast throne room with black marble walls and bronze floors. The empty, horrid throne was made from human bones fused together. Standing at the foot of the dais was my mother, frozen in shimmering golden light, her arms outstretched.
    I tried to step toward her, but my legs wouldn’t move. I reached for her, only to realize that my hands were withering to bones. Grinning skeletons in Greek armor crowded around me, draping me with silk robes, wreathing my head with laurels that smoked with Chimera poison, burning into my scalp.
    The evil voice began to laugh. Hail, the conquering hero!
    I woke with a start.
    Grover was shaking my shoulder. “The truck’s stopped,” he said. “We think they’re coming to check on the animals.”
    “Hide!” Annabeth hissed.
    She had it easy. She just put on her magic cap and disappeared. Grover and I had to dive behind feed sacks and hope we looked like turnips.
    The trailer doors creaked open. Sunlight and heat poured in.
    “Man!” one of the truckers said, waving his hand in front of his ugly nose. “I wish I hauled appliances.” He climbed inside and poured some water from a jug into the animals’ dishes.
    “You hot, big boy?” he asked the lion, then splashed the rest of the bucket right in the lion’s face.
    The lion roared in indignation.
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the man said.
    Next to me, under the turnip sacks, Grover tensed. For a peace-loving herbivore, he looked downright murderous.
    The trucker threw the antelope a squashed-looking Happy Meal bag. He smirked at the zebra. “How ya doin’, Stripes? Least we’ll be getting rid of you this stop. You like magic shows? You’re gonna love this one. They’re gonna saw you in half!”
    The zebra, wild-eyed with fear, looked straight at me.
    There was no sound, but as clear as day, I heard it say: Free me, lord. Please.
    I was too stunned to react.
    There was a loud knock, knock, knock on the side of the trailer.
    The trucker inside with us yelled, “What do you want, Eddie?”
    A voice outside—it must’ve been Eddie’s—shouted