―xx. a bouquet of lilies from a pretty girl

9K 576 131
                                    

NAOMI WASN'T SURE SHE'D EVER be able to wrap her head around how easily humans could wrap their minds around strange things and fit them into their own versions of reality.

According to the L.A. news, the explosion at the Santa Monica beach had been caused by a crazy kidnapper (a.k.a. Ares) who was the same man who'd abducted Percy Jackson, Naomi Murphy, and two other unidentified adolescents in New York and brought them across country on a ten-day odyssey of terror.

Poor little Percy Jackson wasn't an international criminal, after all. He'd caused a commotion on that Greyhound bus trying to get away from his captor (and afterward, witnesses would even swear they had seen the leather-clad man on the bus—"Why didn't I remember him before?"). The crazy man had caused the explosion in the St. Louis Arch. After all, no kid could've done that. A concerned waitress in Denver had seen the man threatening his abductees outside her diner, gotten a friend to take a photo and notified the police. Finally, brave Percy Jackson had stolen a gun from his captor in Los Angeles and battled him shotgun-to-rifle on the beach. Police had arrived just in time. But in the spectacular explosion, five police cars had been destroyed and the captor had fled. No fatalities had occurred. Percy Jackson and his three friends were safely in police custody.

The reporters fed them the whole story. They just nodded and acted tearful and exhausted (which wasn't hard at all), and played victimized kids for the cameras.

"All I want," Percy said, choking back his tears, "is to see my loving stepfather again. Every time I saw him on TV, calling me a delinquent punk, I knew... somehow... we would be okay. And I know he'll want to reward each and every person in this beautiful city of Los Angeles with a free major appliance from his store. Here's the phone number."

Naomi had to hide her laugh by burying her face against Annabeth's shoulder, making it look like she was too emotionally traumatized to do anything but cry.

The police and reporters were so moved that they passed around the hat and raised money for four tickets on the next plane to New York.

They had no choice but to fly. Percy didn't relax until they landed in La Guardia.

The local press was waiting for them outside security, but they managed to evade them thanks to Annabeth, who lured them away in her invisible Yankees cap, shouting, "They're over by the frozen yogurt! Come on!" then rejoined them at baggage claim.

They split up at the taxi stand. Percy told Annabeth and Grover to get back to Half-Blood Hill and let Chiron know what had happened. He tried to get Naomi to do the same, but for once, she put her foot down. She wasn't about to let Percy face a bunch of angry Olympians alone, and besides—if one of those Olympians was her godly parent, part of her wanted them to see just what they'd elected to ignore.

"When did you get stubborn?" Percy asked.

"Five minutes ago," Naomi answered with a grin. "I like it."

Percy squinted at her for a moment, then seemed to realize there was no convincing her. "Fine," he mumbled.

It was hard to separate from Annabeth and Grover after everything they'd all been through together, but Naomi tried to be optimistic and convince herself they'd be reunited in a few hours.

She and Percy hopped in a taxi and headed into Manhattan.


Thirty minutes later, Naomi and Percy walked into the lobby of the Empire State Building.

They must've looked like a pair of homeless kids, with their tattered clothes and Percy's scraped-up face. Neither of them had slept in at least twenty-four hours.

This Dark Night  ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase¹Where stories live. Discover now