The Sea of Monsters

three giants followed his lead.
    I knew we were dead. Tyson couldn’t deflect all those balls at once. His hands had to be seriously burned from blocking the first volley. Without my sword . . .
    I had a crazy idea.
    I ran toward the locker room.
    “Move!” I told my teammates. “Away from the door.”
    Explosions behind me. Tyson had batted two of the balls back toward their owners and blasted them to ashes.
    That left two giants still standing.
    A third ball hurtled straight at me. I forced myself to wait—one Mississippi, two Mississippi—then dove aside as the fiery sphere demolished the locker room door.
    Now, I figured that the built-up gas in most boys’ locker rooms was enough to cause an explosion, so I wasn’t surprised when the flaming dodgeball ignited a huge WHOOOOOOOM!
    The wall blew apart. Locker doors, socks, athletic supporters, and other various nasty personal belongings rained all over the gym.
    I turned just in time to see Tyson punch Skull Eater in the face. The giant crumpled. But the last giant, Joe Bob, had wisely held on to his own ball, waiting for an opportunity. He threw just as Tyson was turning to face him.
    “No!” I yelled.
    The ball caught Tyson square in the chest. He slid the length of the court and slammed into the back wall, which cracked and partially crumbled on top of him, making a hole right onto Church Street. I didn’t see how Tyson could still be alive, but he only looked dazed. The bronze ball was smoking at his feet. Tyson tried to pick it up, but he fell back, stunned, into a pile of cinder blocks.
    “Well!” Joe Bob gloated. “I’m the last one standing! I’ll have enough meat to bring Babycakes a doggie bag!”
    He picked up another ball and aimed it at Tyson.
    “Stop!” I yelled. “It’s me you want!”
    The giant grinned. “You wish to die first, young hero?”
    I had to do something. Riptide had to be around here somewhere.
    Then I spotted my jeans in a smoking heap of clothes right by the giant’s feet. If I could only get there. . . . I knew it was hopeless, but I charged.
    The giant laughed. “My lunch approaches.” He raised his arm to throw. I braced myself to die.
    Suddenly the giant’s body went rigid. His expression changed from gloating to surprise. Right where his belly button should’ve been, his T-shirt ripped open and he grew something like a horn—no, not a horn—the glowing tip of a blade.
    The ball dropped out of his hand. The monster stared down at the knife that had just run him through from behind.
    He muttered, “Ow,” and burst into a cloud of green flame, which I figured was going to make Babycakes pretty upset.
    Standing in the smoke was my friend Annabeth. Her face was grimy and scratched. She had a ragged backpack slung over her shoulder, her baseball cap tucked in her pocket, a bronze knife in her hand, and a wild look in her storm-gray eyes, like she’d just been chased a thousand miles by ghosts.
    Matt Sloan, who’d been standing there dumbfounded the whole time, finally came to his senses. He blinked at Annabeth, as if he dimly recognized her from my notebook picture. “That’s the girl . . . That’s the girl—”
    Annabeth punched him in the nose and knocked him flat. “And you ,” she told him, “lay off my friend.”
    The gym was in flames. Kids were still running around screaming. I heard sirens wailing and a garbled voice over the intercom. Through the glass windows of the exit doors, I could see the headmaster, Mr. Bonsai, wrestling with the lock, a crowd of teachers piling up behind him.
    “Annabeth . . .” I stammered. “How did you . . . how long have you . . .”
    “Pretty much all morning.” She sheathed her bronze knife. “I’ve been trying to find a good time to talk to you, but you were never alone.”
    “The shadow I saw this morning—that was—” My face felt hot. “Oh my gods, you were looking in my bedroom window?”
    “There’s no time to explain!” she snapped, though she looked a little red-faced herself. “I just didn’t want to—”
    “There!” a woman screamed. The doors burst open and the adults came pouring in.
    “Meet me outside,” Annabeth told me. “And him.” She pointed to Tyson, who was still sitting dazed against the wall. Annabeth gave him a look of distaste that I didn’t quite understand. “You’d better bring him.”
    “ What? ”
    “No time!” she said. “Hurry!”
    She put on her Yankees baseball cap, which was a magic gift from