The most annoying thing about killing a monster isn't the fight. It's the cleanup.
I walked out of the bathroom, dusting yellow sulfur powder off my shoulders. I expected screaming. I expected sirens. I expected at least one person to point and shout, "Oh my god, that kid just turned a teacher into confetti!"
Instead? Nothing.
The hallway was quiet. Mrs. Kerr, a teacher I was pretty sure hadn't existed five minutes ago, was ushering students back onto the bus.
"Valerius," she chirped, looking at me over her glasses. "Do hurry up. You don't want to miss the return trip."
I stopped. "Mrs. Kerr? Where's Mrs. Dodds?"
She blinked. It was a slow, glazed blink, like a computer processing a bad line of code. "Who?"
"Mrs. Dodds," I said slowly. "The math teacher. Leather jacket. looks like she eats lemons for breakfast. Just tried to kill me in the bathroom?"
Mrs. Kerr laughed. It was a light, airy sound that made me want to punch a wall. "Valerius, you have such an active imagination. We've never had a math teacher named Mrs. Dodds."
I stared at her. I felt a weird pressure in my head, like a staticky buzz trying to rewrite my hard drive. The Mist, I realized. It was trying to gaslight me. It was trying to smooth over the cracks in reality so the mortals didn't lose their minds.
If I were a normal twelve-year-old, I might have believed her. But I wasn't normal, and I certainly wasn't twelve on the inside.
"Right," I said, dropping the subject. "My mistake."
I walked past her, my jaw set. Okay, Universe. You want to play it like that? Fine. Keep your secrets.
The DisappointmentI found the "hero" in the cafeteria area before we got on the bus.
Percy Jackson sat alone at a picnic table, poking at a sad-looking enchilada. Beside him was Grover Underwood, the satyr.
In the movies, Grover was this cool, smooth-talking protector. In reality? The kid was a wreck. He had acne, a wispy beard that looked like glued-on lint, and he walked with a limp that screamed "goat legs in disguise."
And Percy... man, what a letdown. He looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over. He had messy black hair and drool drying on his chin. This was the guy who was supposed to save Olympus?
I walked over. At five-foot-nine and one hundred and sixty pounds of dense muscle, I cast a pretty long shadow.
Percy looked up, blinking his sea-green eyes. "Uh, hey Valerius."
"Jackson," I nodded. I looked at his tray. "You gonna eat that apple?"
"I—no?"
I snatched the apple before he could change his mind and took a massive, crunching bite. My stomach was roaring. That one punch in the bathroom had burned about three thousand calories. My body was screaming for fuel.
"Thanks," I mumbled around the fruit.
Grover was staring at me. No, he wasn't staring—he was trembling. His nose was twitching like a rabbit sensing a wolf. He could smell it on me. The ozone. The storm. The power of the Big Three.
"You okay, Underwood?" I asked, grinning. "You look like you're about to faint."
"I... I'm fine," Grover squeaked. His voice cracked three times in two words. " just allergies."
"Right. Allergies." I leaned in, dropping my voice. "Crazy weather we're having, huh? Almost like someone up there is... missing something."
It was a test. I wanted to see if they knew about the Master Bolt yet.
Percy looked confused. "It's just a storm, Val."
But Grover looked like he was about to cry. He knew.
Amateurs, I thought, finishing the apple in three bites and tossing the core into a trash can like a basketball shot. Score one for the reincarnated guy.
The HungerThe bus ride back to the city was torture. Not because of the boredom—I was used to that—but because of the hunger.
Using my strength came with a cost. My metabolism was a furnace. If I didn't feed it, I crashed. Hard.
I spent the last of my allowance at a rest stop vending machine. I bought six Snickers bars, two bags of chips, and a soda. I ate them all in under five minutes.
"Dude," a kid named Nancy Bobofit sneered from the seat across from me. "Do you have a tapeworm or something?"
I looked at her. I crushed the empty soda can in one hand, compressing it into a dense puck of aluminum the size of a golf ball.
"Growing boy," I said flatly.
Nancy turned pale and turned back around.
Then, the bus broke down. Of course it did.
While the driver cursed and kicked the engine, I watched the side of the road. Across the highway, at a fruit stand, three old ladies sat in rocking chairs. They were knitting a pair of socks the size of sleeping bags.
The Fates, I thought. My heart did a little flutter. This was a canon event.
I watched them carefully. I knew what came next. They would cut the yarn, signaling Percy's impending death.
The old lady in the middle took out a pair of giant gold scissors. She looked at Percy. Snip.
Percy didn't notice. Grover did, and he looked like he was going to throw up.
Then, the old lady turned her head. Her eyes—ancient, milky, and terrifying—locked onto mine through the bus window.
She didn't cut another string. She just stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.
It wasn't a threat. It was an acknowledgment.
I see you, anomaly, that nod said.
I grinned back. Bring it on, Grandma.
The ConfrontationBy the time I got back to our apartment in Queens, the sky was a bruised purple. The storm was here.
My mom, Elena, was waiting in the kitchen. She was smoking a cigarette, her hand shaking slightly. She took one look at me—at the dust on my jacket, the wild energy in my eyes, and the way I was practically vibrating with static—and she put the cigarette out.
"Pack your bags," I said, bypassing "Hello." "We're going to Long Island."
"Valerius..." she started, her voice warning. "We talked about this. It's not safe."
"Not safe?" I laughed. It was a harsh sound. "Mom, I just vaporized a demon math teacher in a public bathroom. Safe left the building a long time ago."
She froze. "You... you saw one?"
"I punched one," I corrected. "And now I'm starving, and the sky is trying to kill us because Dad lost his favorite toy."
Elena looked at the window as thunder rattled the panes. "You know."
"I know enough," I lied. I knew everything, but I couldn't explain how. "I know I'm not normal. I know I'm strong. And I know that if I stay here, I'm going to bring the roof down on this building."
I held up my hand. I concentrated on the feeling in my gut—that swirling, angry storm. A spark of blue electricity jumped between my thumb and index finger with a loud SNAP.
Elena flinched. Tears welled in her eyes. "You're just like him. So arrogant. So powerful."
"Who was he?" I asked, though I knew the answer. I wanted her to say it.
"He called himself a King," she whispered. "He was a storm in a suit. He warned me that if you were born... things would be difficult."
"Difficult is my middle name," I said, grabbing a duffel bag I'd already packed with clothes and—more importantly—snacks. "We need to go. Now. Before the big monsters show up."
The DriveMy mom drove like a maniac. To be fair, the weather demanded it.
The storm wasn't just rain; it was a deluge. The wind howled like a thousand dying wolves. Lightning flashed so constantly it was like driving under a strobe light.
We were in her beat-up Honda Civic, heading east on the Long Island Expressway.
"Where are we going, Val?" she shouted over the rain.
"Montauk!" I shouted back. "Just keep heading toward the water! Look for a strawberry farm!"
I checked my makeshift weapon. I didn't have a celestial bronze sword like Percy. I had a heavy aluminum baseball bat I'd stolen from the gym locker at school. It wasn't magic, but with my strength, I figured I could do some damage.
Traffic stopped. The road was blocked.
"We have to walk!" I yelled, kicking the door open. The wind almost ripped it off its hinges.
We ran through the rain. My mom was struggling, slipping in the mud. I grabbed her arm, hauling her up with ease. I felt invincible. The storm didn't cold me; it energized me. The lightning overhead felt like it was cheering me on.
Then I saw it.
Up ahead, off the side of the road, a Camaro had skidded into a ditch. I recognized the car.
"Percy," I muttered.
And then I heard the roar.
It wasn't a car engine. It was a guttural, wet bellow that vibrated in my chest.
A flash of lightning illuminated the road. Standing there, silhouetted against the chaos, was a figure. It was seven feet tall. It had the body of a bodybuilder on steroids and the head of a bull.
The Minotaur.
It was wearing only tighty-whities. Gross, I thought. The movie didn't mention the underwear.
It was sniffing the Camaro. Inside, I could see Percy and Grover struggling to get Percy's mom out.
I gripped my baseball bat. A normal kid would run. A normal kid would be terrified.
I felt a grin stretch across my face. My blood sang. This wasn't a spreadsheet. This wasn't a meeting with Greg. This was a Boss Fight.
"Hey!" I screamed, my voice booming over the thunder. "Beefcake!"
The Minotaur turned. Its beady red eyes locked onto me. It snorted, steam blasting from its nostrils.
"Valerius, no!" my mom screamed.
"Stay back, Mom," I said, stepping onto the asphalt. I tapped the bat into my open palm. "I've got a high score to set."