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THE TITAN'S CURSE
Percy Jackson and the Olympians Book — 3
Rick Riordan
ONE
MY RESCUE OPERATION GOES VERY WRONG
The Friday before winter break, my mom packed me an overnight bag and a few deadly weapons and took me to a new boarding school. We picked up my friends A
It was an eight-hour drive from New York to Bar Harbor, Maine. Sleet and snow pounded the highway. A
Thalia wiped the fog off the car window and peered outside. "Oh, yeah. This'll be fun."
Westover Hall looked like an evil knight's castle. It was all black stone, with towers and slit windows and a big set of wooden double doors. It stood on a snowy cliff overlooking this big frosty forest on one side and the gray churning ocean on the other.
"Are you sure you don't want me to wait?" my mother asked.
"No, thanks, Mom," I said. "I don't know how long it will take. We'll be okay."
"But how will you get back? I'm worried, Percy."
I hoped I wasn't blushing. It was bad enough I had to depend on my mom to drive me to my battles.
"It's okay, Ms. Jackson." A
My mom seemed to relax a little. She thinks A
"All right, dears," my mom said. "Do you have everything you need?"
"Yes, Ms. Jackson," Thalia said. "Thanks for the ride."
"Extra sweaters? You have my cell phone number?"
"Mom—"
"Your ambrosia and nectar, Percy? And a golden drachma in case you need to contact camp?"
"Mom, seriously! We'll be fine. Come on, guys."
She looked a little hurt, and I was sorry about that, but I was ready to be out of that car. If my mom told one more story about how cute I looked in the bathtub when I was three years old, I was going to burrow into the snow and freeze myself to death.
A
Once my mother's car was out of sight, Thalia said, "Your mom is so cool, Percy."
"She's pretty okay," I admitted. "What about you? You ever get in touch with your mom?"
As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn't. Thalia was great at giving evil looks, what with the punk clothes she always wears—the ripped-up army jacket, black leather pants and chain jewelry, the black eyeliner and those intense blue eyes. But the look she gave me now was a perfect evil "ten."
"If that was any of your business, Percy—"
"We'd better get inside," A
Thalia looked at the castle and shivered. "You're right. I wonder what he found here that made him send the distress call."
I stared up at the dark towers of Westover Hall. "Nothing good," I guessed.
The oak doors groaned open, and the three of us stepped into the entry hall in a swirl of snow.
All I could say was, "Whoa."
The place was huge. The walls were lined with battle flags and weapon displays: antique rifles, battle axes, and a bunch of other stuff. I mean, I knew Westover was a military school and all, but the decorations seemed like overkill. Literally.
My hand went to my pocket, where I kept my lethal ballpoint pen, Riptide. I could already sense something wrong in this place. Something dangerous. Thalia was rubbing her silver bracelet, her favorite magic item. I knew we were thinking the same thing. A fight was coming.
A
The doors slammed shut behind us.
"Oo-kay," I mumbled. "Guess we'll stay awhile."
I could hear music echoing from the other end of the hall. It sounded like dance music.
We stashed our overnight bags behind a pillar and started down the hall. We hadn't gone very far when I heard footsteps on the stone floor, and a man and woman marched out of the shadows to intercept us.
They both had short gray hair and black military-style 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 pla
"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 ba
"Oh, but we're not visitors, sir," Thalia said. "We go to school here. You remember: I'm Thalia. And this is A
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. "A
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?"