"𝚟𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚗" | 𝚙. 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛, 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎

Sally Jackson Teaches Minors How To Fight Minotaurs

AND

We Play Pinochle With a Latin Teacher/Horse(?)

third person omniscient

-

THEY TORE THROUGH the night along dark country roads. Wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the windshield. Percy didn't know how his mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas. 

Every time there was a flash of lightning, Percy looked at Grover sitting, squeezed between him and Stelle, and wondered if he'd gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants.

But, no, the smell was one he remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo- lanolin, like from wool. The smell of a wet barnyard animal. 

All he could think to say was, "So... you and my mom know each other?" He mentally face-palmed.

Grover's eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, though there were no cars behind them. "Not exactly," he said. "I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you."

"Watching him?" Stelle interjected, perplexed.

"Keeping tabs on him. Making sure you guys were okay. But I wasn't faking being your friend." He added hastily. "I am your friend, I promise."

"Uh..." Percy started, "What exactly are you?"

"Seriously, Percy?"

"Does that really matter right now?" Grover muttered, turning to look back.

Percy swelled with indignation, "Uhm, yes it does! Stelle! From the waist down, our best friend is a donkey-"

Grover let out a sharp, throaty,"Blaa-ha-ha!"

"Uh... excuse you?" Stelle said.

At first, Stelle had thought that it was a nervous, slightly strangled, laugh. Now, she realized that it was more of a irritated bleat, which disturbed her. A lot.

"Goat!" He cried.

"What?" Percy craned his head to stare at him with a dumb look.

"I'm a goat from the waist down, not a donkey!"

"I beg your absolute finest pardon?"

"Blaa-ha-ha! Some satyrs would trample you underhoof for such an insult!" Grover stamped his feet, sorry, hoof agitatedly.

Stelle's voice raised an octave as she realized what Grover was. "Satyrs? Grover, why didn't you tell us?!"

Percy held up his hands. "Pause. Satyrs, as in, Mr. Brunner's myths?"

"Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth?" Grover shook his head.

"Aha! So you admit there was a Mrs. Dodds!" Percy accused, looking triumphant. Stelle groaned in frustration.

"Of course." Grover responded easily. The green-eyed boy deflated, not expecting such a quick admission. He looked at Estella with an 'oh' face.

"Percy, we know this! We have more serious problems!"

The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind them, closer than before. Whatever was chasing them was still on their trail. 

"Estelle is right, Percy." Sally said, "There's too much to explain and too little time. We just have to get you two to safety..."