Percy Jackson

We weren't into the city yet, so we at least didn't get jumped or mugged. On our side of the road, it was just a bunch of maple trees and litter. Across four lanes was a little fruit stand with three old ladies sitting out front, knitting what might be the biggest pair of electric blue socks I'd ever seen. Nowhere you would notice if you didn't stop.

The fruit stand didn't have any customers, just the old women sitting in the shade. The two ladies on the outside each held massive ball of yarn while the middle lady was knitting the socks that looked to be about the size of a sweater so far.

Who needs socks that big?

Maybe she didn't realize she was knitting the wrong thing. The ladies did look ancient. Their pale skin wrinkles like fruit leather, with silver hair pulled back by a white bandana. They were so bony and thing that a part of me thought about offering them a drink from the apple cider filled claw foot tub that was next to them if I weren't on the other side of the highway.

The oddest thing, though, was that it felt like they were staring right at me.

I turned to point out the weirdness to Grover, who looked like he'd gone just as pale as the ladies.

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, man—"

"Please tell me they're not looking at you. They aren't, are they?"

"I mean, it's hard to say, but I think so?" I told my best friend, who must've overestimated these three grannies. "yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me? Maybe like a sleeping bag? We could each it use one."

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all."

Frowning, thinking that it was funny, I looked back towards the old ladies who were definitely looking at me now.

Just then, the middle lady took out a huge pair of scissors— white and gold, almost the size of gardening shears. I heard Grover catch his breath next to me.

"We're getting on the bus," Grover informed me, sounding frantic as he grabbed my hand, which— I don't think he's ever done that before because it had my attention as I still kept an eye on the ladies. "Come on."

"What? Dude, it's like a thousand degrees in there. We'll probably melt if we go back in—literally."

"Come on!" And even though he's grabbed my hand, Grover went on and pried the door open without me next to him. He crawled in, I stayed back.

Across the road, the middle grandma cut the yarn and I swear I could hear the snip from across all four lanes of traffic. Her two friends cleaned up their yarn and put it all into a basket that could only make me wonder who the socks would be for— Sasquatch or Godzilla.

From the rear of the bus, the driver threw a hot piece of metal out before the engine shuddered and came back to life.

Like white people tend to do, they clapped.

"Damn right!" The driver yelled. "Everyone back on board!"

Once we got going, I'd started to feel feverish, almost like I'd had the flu. Which was odd, since I almost never get car sick, but Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering, his teeth chattering. He seemed even more anxious than usual.

"Grover."

"Yeah?"

"What aren't you telling me?"

He dabbed his forehead with the shirt of his sleeve.

"Percy, what... What did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "What about them, man? They're not like... They're not like Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

But by Grover's expression, by his reactions and behaviors in the last hour, I'd had a feeling that the ladies were much worse than Mrs. Dodds.

"Just— tell me what you saw."

"After you left?" I figured and he nodded his head. "the middle lady took out some scissors and cut the yarn, why?"

Closing his eyes, Grover made a gesture that was similar to crossing himself, but it looked a little different.

Is my best friend seriously religious?

I feel like I would've learned about that sooner seeing as we lived together this year, but maybe not.

It was something else, though. Different from crossing, almost— almost older.

"You saw her snip the cord."

"...yeah. So?" But even as I said it, I started to buy into this superstition that was freaking Grover out.

"This is not happening." Grover said to himself, starting to chew at his thumb and making me worry that he'd have a panic attack on this Greyhound. "I don't want this to be like the last time."

The last time...

Grover mentioned that when he talked to Bruner the other week, what...

"What last time?"

"Sixth grade," he muttered to himself. "They never make it past sixth."

I'm sorry, what?

That was slightly more alarming.

"Grover," I said, putting a hand on his shoulder because he was starting to scare me. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station," Grover insisted. "Promise me that you'll let me walk you home from the bus station."

"Wh... Sure, yeah, you can walk me home if it makes you feel better." I reassured my best friend, thinking the request seemed odd. "is this like a superstition or something?"

He didn't answer.

"Grover," I repeated. "The snipping of the yarn, does that mean that somebody's going to die? Like cutting they're life line?"

Finally raising his gaze, Grover looked over to me mournfully, as if he were already picking out the kind of flowers I'd like best with my coffin.

•••

Complete transparency: I considered leaving Grover at the train station when we got back since he had to pee, but I wanted to still have a friend this summer, so I did the nice thing and waited.

The weather was surprisingly nice out, so we walked most of the way since Grover has an odd fear of subways (or of just being underground in general), and while he was scaring me a little for the first few blocks, talking about "why is it always sixth grade" and things of the like, he calmed down a little after I had us pop into a little corner shop and get a piece of cheesecake to split. The food seemed to calm him down for the rest of the walk.

As we walked, I tried not to think about the fact that this might be the last time we ever get to hang out. That after this, Grover would see how poor I am compared to him and he wouldn't want to hang out again.

Him having a summer home bothered me more than it should.

"This is it," I told Grover as we reached the corner of East 104th and First Avenue. "Thanks for braving East Harlem to walk me back— you really didn't have to do that. If you want to, you can come up, but it's... Nothing fancy. You don't have to."

"I— I mean it would be nice to meet your mom. Are you sure?"

Not at all, I thought to myself, before insisting that it was fine. My mom did ask about him over Christmas break.

A word about my mother, before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck. Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left
with no money, no family, and no diploma. The only "good break" she ever got was meeting my dad, and he left her, so that's debatable at best.

I don't have any memories of him, but I'm pretty sure he was around when I was born. At least at the hospital, because I just remember a warm glow and a trace of a smile. We don't have any photos of him and my mom doesn't like to talk about him since it makes her sad.

You see, they weren't married and based on how my mom talks about it, they weren't together for that long. She told me that he was some rich and important person, so their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic and just never returned.

He's not dead, though. To her, he isn't.

Lost at sea, my mom always told me. Not dead, just lost at sea.

After he left, she started to work odd jobs so she could take night classes for her diploma while still getting to raise me on her own. She never complained. She never got mad, not even once. But I knew that I wasn't an easy kid.

I wasn't a normal kid.

Eventually, when I was a toddler, she married Gabe Ugliano. While his last name currently tells you everything you need to know about him, it wasn't always like that, but things happen. Him and my mom were friends in high school and he was there for her after my dad left. I'd always known of him, and for the longest time I thought he was my dad. I called him dad until right after I started 3rd grade. I'd known by then that he wasn't my biological father, but in every way that mattered, he was my dad. But early in third grade, he started to drink after losing one of his best friends and he hasn't liked being called Dad ever since.

He's angry most of the time now, and I try to tell myself that he'll get better, but maybe he won't. It's only gotten worse, despite my mom's efforts to help him. I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe a couple of years ago because I'm sorry, but it's true. He reeked of old food left in a gym locker room.

Between the two of us, we make my mom's life pretty hard nowadays. The way he treats her, the way our relationship has fallen apart... Well, Grover was about to see it firsthand.

Not that I've told Grover a lot about Gabe, but it's not like there's a lot to say about it anymore.

Walking into our little apartment with Grover behind me, I was hoping that my mom would be home to greet us. Instead, it was just Smelly Gabe in the living room with his smelly friends, playing poker while ESPN played on the TV. Some chips and beer cans littered the floor around the four of them.

Hardly looking up, Gabe didn't even take notice of the extra kid (well, one with a goatee) in the apartment.

"So," my stepdad said with a drag of his cigar. "you're home."

"Where's mom?"

"Working," he answered. "Got any cash?"

That was it. No welcome back, good to see you, how was the last six months of your life?

Since Christmas, he'd put on weight, so he now resembled a tuskless walrus in thrift store clothes. What little he had left of his hair was combed over, but it didn't help him look any better. He manages the Electronic Mega Mart in Queens, but it was a miracle that he hadn't been fired yet since he mostly just stayed home and collected paychecks to spend on cigars that made me nauseous and beer. Always beer.

His gambling funds, on the other hand, came from me when I was home. He called it out "guy secret", meaning that if I ever told my mom (or anyone) that he'd take me out of this world faster than I was brought into it.

"I don't have any cash," I lied, not wanting to be humiliated in front of Grover (even though the state of the apartment had already been embarrassing).

Gabe raised an eyebrow, and I knew I was fucked.

You see, as a gambling addict, Gabe has learned to sniff money out. It was a skill that used to be beneficial when we'd try to save for trips or a new TV, but now it was just so he could gamble.

"You walked back from the station based on your friend with a 20," Gabe chided. "Stopped for a snack or lunch maybe, got 10, 12 dollars in change. If somebody wants to keep living under this roof, he should pull his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?"

Eddie, the only cool friend Gabe has, who also happens to be our landlord, gave me a sympathetic look.

"Come on, Gabe." Eddie insisted. "The kid just got here, and there's guests."

"Am I right?" Gabe repeated.

Eddie scowled into a bowl of pretzels. The other two poker players passed gas in unison— which was both disgusting and impressive.

"Fine," I dug the $10 bill out of my pocket and threw the money on the table. "I hope you lose."

"Your report card came, brain boy!" He called after me as Grover and I walked back to what was probably no longer my bedroom. "I wouldn't act so snooty!"

Trying to stay calm for Grover's sake, I let out a forced breath and closed my bedroom door behind us to discover that, as I predicted, my bedroom had once been been renovated into Gabe's study during the school year.

To clarify, the closest thing he did to study was look at old car magazines in here, but he loved to destroy the place. Putting muddy boots on my windowsill, making it smell like his cologne mixed with stale beer and cigars.

I put my suitcase down next to my bed.

Home sweet home.

"This is it." I repeated myself for my best friend, who seemed cautious to touch or move at all, which I don't blame him for. "Sorry that it's not clean, Gabe isn't exactly a tidy person."

He looked worried.

"He... Does he usually do that sort of thing?"

"Do what sort of thing?"

"The uh... The drinking and taking your money and like... Talking to you like that. Is that normal? You never talked about him a lot."

I could see the question that Grover was holding back: has he ever hurt me?

I didn't know how to answer it.

"Um... No," I decided. "He drinks a lot, but not like... no. Not like that. Gabe is still my dad, dude, he's better than just, he's just gotta get used to me being home again, you know?"

Based on his expression, Grover did not know, but he let it go so I took that to mean that he wasn't going to report Gabe just for having an addiction.

It's not like Mrs. Dodds, who...

The memory sent a shiver down my back. It's dumb, but I was worried that there might be somebody after me like her, talons barrelling up the stairs—

"Percy?" My mom's voice cut my paranoia off.

She opened my bedroom door, and my fears melted away, at least for a while.

My mom can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her smile warms me like a comforter, her eyes twinkle in light, and she has a few grey streaks in her hair thanks to Gabe and I, but she's not old (and I'll punch you if you call her old). When she looks at me, it's like she only sees the good in me and none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word, not even to me or Gabe.

Basically, she's an angel. And the best person in the whole world.

"Oh, Percy!" She said, pulling me into a hug that smelled like chocolate, taffy, and everything else you could imagine they'd sell at a candy shop. She was still in her Sweet On America uniform of red, white, and blue. "I can't believe it, you've grown since Christmas!"

I smiled, a little embarrassed that Grover was here, but at least he could see that my parents do actually love me.

"And you must be Grover!" My mom figured, also giving him a hug, which threw my best friend off. "I've heard so much about you— all good things, of course. It's so nice to finally meet you! I'm Sally, Percy's mother. Sorry if Gabe gave you a hard time at all, the last few years haven't been kind to him. Are you staying for dinner?"

"Dinner?" Grover asked. "If you would be willing to have me, Ms. Jackson, I'd love to stay for dinner, but if it's too much, I can also head home."

Is Grover avoiding his home?

"Your parents don't want you home for dinner?" I asked.

"They aren't home tonight," he insisted, which was... Weird. "My dad always has this work trip that either ends right before or right after I get out of school. This year it's after. But uh, where's your bathroom?"

Telling him it was at the end of the hall, Grover left Mom and I in my room, which I was glad out.

Not that I don't enjoy Grover's presence, I just missed my mom a lot.

"Is it okay that Grover's here for dinner?" Mom asked me and I nodded my head. "You're sure? I didn't realize he'd be coming over."

"It was last minute," I told her, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Our bus broke down for a bit and he was kind of paranoid after that, so he insisted on walking me to the apartment. I invited him up. I don't think he likes Gabe but... He didn't say anything to Grover. Just gave me shit because of my report card and stuff. I'm assuming he's still not interested in AA?"

Taking a breath, Mom told me that he's mentioned going a few times, but by the time the day comes around that he says he's going to go, he forgets or something happens. The first time wasn't his fault, the car broke down half way to the meeting. After that, though, he kind of avoided it.

Maybe me being home this summer would help motivate him.

"Regardless of that, though, are you doing okay?" My mom asked, not even asking about what happened with my grades or my expulsion. "Did you have any fun field trips this semester?"

Telling her about our trip to the MET, but leaving out the part about Dodds, I assured her that I'm okay and that she was smothering me.

I enjoyed it, but she didn't need to know that.

"That's good! I—" Mom started as Grover walked back in the room, cut off by my stepdad.

"Hey, Sally!" Gabe called from the living room. "How about some of that bean dip?"

I gritted my teeth. Grover looked ready to murder my dad.

She pursed her lips.

"In a moment!" She told her sorry excuse for a husband before turning her attention back to me. "I have a surprise for you, also: we're going to the beach!"

Considering the weather, I don't blame Grover for looking a little taken back by that.

I didn't care, though, the weather could wait for a weekend or even just a night with my mom on the beach.

"Montauk?" I asked with side eyes and she smiled, nodding her head.

"Three nights— same cabin."

"When?"

"Tonight, after we eat," she told me. "We'll have dinner, make sure Grover here has a way to get home, and head to the cabin. Does that sound—"

I couldn't believe it. The last two years we weren't able to go to Montauk in the summer because Gabe insisted that we didn't have the money for it. The year before that we went without Gabe and the year before that, we all went as a family, but Gabe got frustrated and left early for some reason that I was never really told. He had been drinking then, but not as heavily as he does now.

"Bean dip, Sally!" Gabe reminded us. "Did you not hear me? You haven't gone deaf already, have you?"

"I was on my way, honey," Grover looked like he might gag when my mom called Gabe that, and I kind of agreed. It's not a good nickname for him, especially now. Teddy Bear would even be better. "I was just telling Percy about the trip."

"The trip? You were serious about that?"

I knew it.

He won't let us go. For whatever reason, Gabe has a vendetta against Montauk now and doesn't want us to go.

If it were any other trip, he'd be hesitant, but wouldn't not let us go.

It's just Montauk.

"Yes, sweetie, remember?" Mom tried to recall a memory he probably drank away weeks ago. "we talked about it last month and last week— I saved for it with money only from my job, okay?"

He sighed, obviously not pleased.

"Whatever you say, Sally." Gabe flatly responded, a giveaway that he was going to be in a bad mood soon. "It's not like he's paying for it."

Why or how I would pay for a trip to Montauk, I didn't know, but I could hear mom's lack of response from the bedroom while she was almost to the kitchen already.

I closed the door again.

"Happy couple." Grover noted. I shrugged, and then sighed.

"They used to be."