The Lightning Thief

“Can you read this, mate? It says C-H- A -R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON.”
    “Charon.”
    “Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon.”
    “Mr. Charon,” I said.
    “Well done.” He sat back. “I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?”
    His question caught in my stomach like a fastball. I looked at Annabeth for support.
    “We want to go the Underworld,” she said.
    Charon’s mouth twitched. “Well, that’s refreshing.”
    “It is?” she asked.
    “Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No ‘There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.’” He looked us over. “How did you die, then?”
    I nudged Grover.
    “Oh,” he said. “Um . . . drowned . . . in the bathtub.”
    “All three of you?” Charon asked.
    We nodded.
    “Big bathtub.” Charon looked mildly impressed. “I don’t suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children . . . alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you’ll have to take a seat for a few centuries.”
    “Oh, but we have coins.” I set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash I’d found in Crusty’s office desk.
    “Well, now . . .” Charon moistened his lips. “Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven’t seen these in . . .”
    His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.
    We were so close.
    Then Charon looked at me. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through my chest. “Here now,” he said. “You couldn’t read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?”
    “No,” I said. “I’m dead.”
    Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. “You’re not dead. I should’ve known. You’re a godling.”
    “We have to get to the Underworld,” I insisted.
    Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.
    Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.
    “Leave while you can,” Charon told us. “I’ll just take these and forget I saw you.”
    He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.
    “No service, no tip.” I tried to sound braver than I felt.
    Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.
    “It’s a shame, too,” I sighed. “We had more to offer.”
    I held up the entire bag from Crusty’s stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.
    Charon’s growl changed into something more like a lion’s purr. “Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh . . . just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?”
    “A lot,” I said. “I bet Hades doesn’t pay you well enough for such hard work.”
    “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always ‘Please don’t let me be dead’ or ‘Please let me across for free.’ I haven’t had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?”
    “You deserve better,” I agreed. “A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay.”
    With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.
    Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. “I must say, lad, you’re making some sense now. Just a little.”
    I stacked another few coins. “I could mention a pay raise while I’m talking to Hades.”
    He sighed. “The boat’s almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off.”
    He stood, scooped up our money, and said, “Come along.”
    We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn’t make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, “Freeloaders.”
    He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.
    “Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I’m gone,” he announced to the waiting room. “And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I’ll make sure you’re here for another thousand years. Understand?”
    He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.
    “What happens to the spirits waiting in