The Sea of Monsters

“You’ll meet them quite soon. Just try the mixture. You’ll see.”
    I looked at the blue tapestry, at the reflection of me, but not me.
    “Now, Percy,” C.C. chided. “The hardest part of the makeover process is giving up control. You have to decide: do you want to trust your judgment about what you should be, or my judgment?”
    My throat felt dry. I heard myself say, “Your judgment.”
    C.C. smiled and handed me the glass. I lifted it to my lips.
    It tasted just like it looked—like a strawberry milk shake. Almost immediately a warm feeling spread through my gut: pleasant at first, then painfully hot, searing, as if the mixture were coming to a boil inside of me.
    I doubled over and dropped the cup. “What have you . . . what’s happening?”
    “Don’t worry, Percy,” C.C. said. “The pain will pass. Look! As I promised. Immediate results.”
    Something was horribly wrong.
    The curtain dropped away, and in the mirror I saw my hands shriveling, curling, growing long delicate claws. Fur sprouted on my face, under my shirt, in every uncomfortable place you can imagine. My teeth felt too heavy in my mouth. My clothes were getting too big, or C.C. was getting too tall—no, I was shrinking.
    In one awful flash, I sank into a cavern of dark cloth. I was buried in my own shirt. I tried to run but hands grabbed me—hands as big as I was. I tried to scream for help, but all that came out of my mouth was, “ Reeet, reeet, reeet! ”
    The giant hands squeezed me around the middle, lifting me into the air. I struggled and kicked with legs and arms that seemed much too stubby, and then I was staring, horrified, into the enormous face of C.C.
    “Perfect!” her voice boomed. I squirmed in alarm, but she only tightened her grip around my furry belly. “See, Percy? You’ve unlocked your true self!”
    She held me up to the mirror, and what I saw made me scream in terror, “ Reeet, reeet, reeet! ” There was C.C., beautiful and smiling, holding a fluffy, bucktoothed creature with tiny claws and white and orange fur. When I twisted, so did the furry critter in the mirror. I was . . . I was . . .
    “A guinea pig,” C.C. said. “Lovely, aren’t you? Men are pigs, Percy Jackson. I used to turn them into real pigs, but they were so smelly and large and difficult to keep. Not much different than they were before, really. Guinea pigs are much more convenient! Now come, and meet the other men.”
    “ Reeet! ” I protested, trying to scratch her, but C.C. squeezed me so tight I almost blacked out.
    “None of that, little one,” she scolded, “or I’ll feed you to the owls. Go into the cage like a good little pet. Tomorrow, if you behave, you’ll be on your way. There is always a classroom in need of a new guinea pig.”
    My mind was racing as fast as my tiny little heart. I needed to get back to my clothes, which were lying in a heap on the floor. If I could do that, I could get Riptide out of my pocket and . . . And what? I couldn’t uncap the pen. Even if I did, I couldn’t hold the sword.
    I squirmed helplessly as C.C. brought me over to the guinea pig cage and opened the wire door.
    “Meet my discipline problems, Percy,” she warned. “They’ll never make good classroom pets, but they might teach you some manners. Most of them have been in this cage for three hundred years. If you don’t want to stay with them permanently, I’d suggest you—”
    Annabeth’s voice called: “Miss C.C.?”
    C.C. cursed in Ancient Greek. She plopped me into the cage and closed the door. I squealed and clawed at the bars, but it was no good. I watched as C.C. hurriedly kicked my clothes under the loom just as Annabeth came in.
    I almost didn’t recognize her. She was wearing a sleeveless silk dress like C.C.’s, only white. Her blond hair was newly washed and combed and braided with gold. Worst of all, she was wearing makeup, which I never thought Annabeth would be caught dead in. I mean, she looked good. Really good. I probably would’ve been tongue-tied if I could’ve said anything except reet, reet, reet . But there was also something totally wrong about it. It just wasn’t Annabeth.
    She looked around the room and frowned. “Where’s Percy?”
    I squealed up a storm, but she didn’t seem to hear me.
    C.C. smiled. “He’s having one of our treatments, my dear. Not to worry. You look wonderful! What did you think of your tour?”
    Annabeth’s eyes brightened. “Your library is amazing!”
    “Yes,