The Titan's Curse

half-blood was rare enough. This year, Chiron had put the satyrs on emergency overtime and sent them all over the country, scouring schools from fourth grade through high school for possible recruits. These were desperate times. We were losing campers. We needed all the new fighters we could find. The problem was, there just weren’t that many demigods out there.
    “A brother and a sister,” he said. “They’re ten and twelve. I don’t know their parentage, but they’re strong. We’re running out of time, though. I need help.”
    “Monsters?”
    “One.” Grover looked nervous. “He suspects. I don’t think he’s positive yet, but this is the last day of term. I’m sure he won’t let them leave campus without finding out. It may be our last chance! Every time I try to get close to them, he’s always there, blocking me. I don’t know what to do!”
    Grover looked at Thalia desperately. I tried not to feel upset by that. Used to be, Grover looked to me for answers, but Thalia had seniority. Not just because her dad was Zeus. Thalia had more experience than any of us with fending off monsters in the real world.
    “Right,” she said. “These half-bloods are at the dance?”
    Grover nodded.
    “Then let’s dance,” Thalia said. “Who’s the monster?”
    “Oh,” Grover said, and looked around nervously. “You just met him. The vice principal, Dr. Thorn.”
    Weird thing about military schools: the kids go absolutely nuts when there’s a special event and they get to be out of uniform. I guess it’s because everything’s so strict the rest of the time, they feel like they’ve got to overcompensate or something.
    There were black and red balloons all over the gym floor, and guys were kicking them in each other’s faces, or trying to strangle each other with the crepe-paper streamers taped to the walls. Girls moved around in football huddles, the way they always do, wearing lots of makeup and spaghetti-strap tops and brightly colored pants and shoes that looked like torture devices. Every once in a while they’d surround some poor guy like a pack of piranhas, shrieking and giggling, and when they finally moved on, the guy would have ribbons in his hair and a bunch of lipstick graffiti all over his face. Some of the older guys looked more like me—uncomfortable, hanging out at the edges of the gym and trying to hide, like any minute they might have to fight for their lives. Of course, in my case, it was true. . . .
    “There they are.” Grover nodded toward a couple of younger kids arguing in the bleachers. “Bianca and Nico di Angelo.”
    The girl wore a floppy green cap, like she was trying to hide her face. The boy was obviously her little brother. They both had dark silky hair and olive skin, and they used their hands a lot as they talked. The boy was shuffling some kind of trading cards. His sister seemed to be scolding him about something. She kept looking around like she sensed something was wrong.
    Annabeth said, “Do they . . . I mean, have you told them?”
    Grover shook his head. “You know how it is. That could put them in more danger. Once they realize who they are, their scent becomes stronger.”
    He looked at me, and I nodded. I’d never really understood what half-bloods “smell” like to monsters and satyrs, but I knew that your scent could get you killed. And the more powerful a demigod you became, the more you smelled like a monster’s lunch.
    “So let’s grab them and get out of here,” I said.
    I started forward, but Thalia put her hand on my shoulder. The vice principal, Dr. Thorn, had slipped out of a doorway near the bleachers and was standing near the di Angelo siblings. He nodded coldly in our direction. His blue eye seemed to glow.
    Judging from his expression, I guessed Thorn hadn’t been fooled by Thalia’s trick with the Mist after all. He suspected who we were. He was just waiting to see why we were here.
    “Don’t look at the kids,” Thalia ordered. “We have to wait for a chance to get them. We need to pretend we’re not interested in them. Throw him off the scent.”
    “How?”
    “We’re three powerful half-bloods. Our presence should confuse him. Mingle. Act natural. Do some dancing. But keep an eye on those kids.”
    “Dancing?” Annabeth asked.
    Thalia nodded. She cocked her ear to the music and made a face. “Ugh. Who chose the Jesse McCartney?”
    Grover looked hurt. “I did.”
    “Oh my gods, Grover. That is so lame. Can’t you