La Vie en Rose // Percy Jackson

i. our rescue operation goes very, very wrong

Annie's POV:

Percy and his mom picked up me, Annabeth and Thalia on the way.

It was an eight-hour drive from New York to Bar Harbor, Maine. Sleet and snow pounded the highway. Annabeth, Thalia, Percy, and I hadn't seen each other in months, but between the blizzard and the thought of what we were about to do, we were too nervous to talk much. Except for Percy's mom. She was probably nervous because she was talking a lot. By the time we finally got to Westover Hall, it was getting dark, and she'd told Annabeth, Thalia and I every embarrassing baby story there was to tell about Percy.

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?" Percy's mother asked.

"No, thanks, Mom," Percy said. "I don't know how long it will take. We'll be okay."

"But how will you get back? I'm worried, Percy."

It looked like Percy hoped he wasn't blushing. Don't you dare tell him, but it was cute.

"It's okay, Ms. Jackson." Annabeth smiled reassuringly. Her blond hair was tucked into a ski cap and her gray eyes were the same color as the ocean. "We'll keep him out of trouble."

His mom seemed to relax a little. She thinks Annabeth and I are the most levelheaded demigods ever to hit eighth grade. She's sure Annabeth and I often keeps him from getting killed. She's right, of course.

"All right, dear," Percy's 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—" Percy began.

"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 Percy seemed sorry about that, but he was ready to be out of that car. If his mom told one more story about how cute Percy looked in the bathtub when he was three years old, it seemed like he was going to burrow into the snow and freeze himself to death.

Annabeth, Thalia and I followed Percy outside. The wind blew straight through my coat like ice daggers. I shivered, pulling it tighter.

Once his mother's car was out of sight, Thalia said, "Your mom is so cool, Percy."

"She's pretty okay," Percy admitted. "What about you? You ever get in touch with your mom?"

As soon as Percy said it, it seemed like he wished he 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 him now was a perfect evil "ten."

"If that was any of your business, Percy—"

"We'd better get inside," Annabeth interrupted. "Grover will be waiting."

Thalia looked at the castle and shivered. "You're right. I wonder what he found here that made him send the distress call."

Percy and I stared up at the dark towers of Westover Hall. "Nothing good," we guessed.