The Titan's Curse

uniforms with red trim. The woman had a wispy mustache, and the guy was clean-shaven, which seemed kind of backward to me. They both walked stiffly, like they had broomsticks taped to their spines.
    “Well?” the woman demanded. “What are you doing here?”
    “Um . . .” I realized I hadn’t planned for this. I’d been so focused on getting to Grover and finding out what was wrong, I hadn’t considered that someone might question three kids sneaking into the school at night. We hadn’t talked at all in the car about how we would get inside. I said, “Ma’am, we’re just—”
    “Ha!” the man snapped, which made me jump. “Visitors are not allowed at the dance! You shall be eee-jected !”
    He had an accent—French, maybe. He pronounced his J like in Jacques . He was tall, with a hawkish face. His nostrils flared when he spoke, which made it really hard not to stare up his nose, and his eyes were two different colors— one brown, one blue—like an alley cat’s.
    I figured he was about to toss us into the snow, but then Thalia stepped forward and did something very weird.
    She snapped her fingers. The sound was sharp and loud. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I felt a gust of wind ripple out from her hand, across the room. It washed over all of us, making the banners rustle on the walls.
    “Oh, but we’re not visitors, sir,” Thalia said. “We go to school here. You remember: I’m Thalia. And this is Annabeth and Percy. We’re in the eighth grade.”
    The male teacher narrowed his two-colored eyes. I didn’t know what Thalia was thinking. Now we’d probably get punished for lying and thrown into the snow. But the man seemed to be hesitating.
    He looked at his colleague. “Ms. Gottschalk, do you know these students?”
    Despite the danger we were in, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. A teacher named Got Chalk ? He had to be kidding.
    The woman blinked, like someone had just woken her up from a trance. “I . . . yes. I believe I do, sir.” She frowned at us. “Annabeth. Thalia. Percy. What are you doing away from the gymnasium?”
    Before we could answer, I heard more footsteps, and Grover ran up, breathless. “You made it! You—”
    He stopped short when he saw the teachers. “Oh, Mrs. Gottschalk. Dr. Thorn! I, uh—”
    “What is it, Mr. Underwood?” said the man. His tone made it clear that he detested Grover. “What do you mean, they made it? These students live here.”
    Grover swallowed. “Yes, sir. Of course, Dr. Thorn. I just meant, I’m so glad they made . . . the punch for the dance! The punch is great. And they made it!”
    Dr. Thorn glared at us. I decided one of his eyes had to be fake. The brown one? The blue one? He looked like he wanted to pitch us off the castle’s highest tower, but then Mrs. Gottschalk said dreamily, “Yes, the punch is excellent. Now run along, all of you. You are not to leave the gymnasium again!”
    We didn’t wait to be told twice. We left with a lot of “Yes, ma’ams” and “Yes, sirs” and a couple of salutes, just because it seemed like the thing to do.
    Grover hustled us down the hall in the direction of the music.
    I could feel the teachers’ eyes on my back, but I walked closely to Thalia and asked in a low voice, “How did you do that finger-snap thing?”
    “You mean the Mist? Hasn’t Chiron shown you how to do that yet?”
    An uncomfortable lump formed in my throat. Chiron was our head trainer at camp, but he’d never shown me anything like that. Why had he shown Thalia and not me?
    Grover hurried us to a door that had GYM written on the glass. Even with my dyslexia, I could read that much.
    “That was close!” Grover said. “Thank the gods you got here!”
    Annabeth and Thalia both hugged Grover. I gave him a big high five.
    It was good to see him after so many months. He’d gotten a little taller and had sprouted a few more whiskers, but otherwise he looked like he always did when he passed for human—a red cap on his curly brown hair to hide his goat horns, baggy jeans and sneakers with fake feet to hide his furry legs and hooves. He was wearing a black T-shirt that took me a few seconds to read. It said WESTOVER HALL: GRUNT. I wasn’t sure whether that was, like, Grover’s rank or maybe just the school motto.
    “So what’s the emergency?” I asked.
    Grover took a deep breath. “I found two.”
    “Two half-bloods?” Thalia asked, amazed. “Here?”
    Grover nodded.
    Finding one