Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
3
3
None of the other freshmen looked thrilled to be here, either. I mean, coming to orientation in
June, when school doesn’t even start until September, is not cool. But at Goode, “We prepare to
excel early!” At least that’s what the brochure said.
The marching band stopped playing. A guy in a pinstripe suit came to the microphone and
started talking, but the sound echoed around the gym so I had no idea what he was saying. He
might’ve been gargling.
Someone grabbed my shoulder,” What are you doing here?”
It was her: my redheaded nightmare.
“Rachel Elizabeth Dare,” I said.
Her jaw dropped like she couldn’t believe I had the nerve to remember her name. “And
you’re Percy somebody. I didn’t get your full name last
December when you tried to kill me.”
“Look, I wasn’t—I didn’t—What are you doing here?”
“Same as you, I guess. Orientation.”
“You live in New York?”
“What, you thought I lived at the Hoover Dam?”
It had never occurred to me. Whenever I thought about her (and I’m not saying I thought
about her; she just like crossed my mind from time to time, okay?), I always figured she lived in the
Hoover Dam area, since that’s where I’d met her. We’d spent maybe ten minutes together, during
which time I’d accidentally swung a sword at her, she’d saved my life, and I’d run away chased by a
band of supernatural killing machines. You know, your typical chance meeting.
Some guy behind us whispered, “Hey, shut up. The cheerleaders are talking!”
“Hi, guys!” a girl bubbled into the microphone. It was the blonde I’d seen at the entrance. “My
name is Tammi, and this is like, Kelli.” Kelli did a cartwheel.
Next to me, Rachel yelped like someone had stuck her with a pin. A few kids looked over
and snickered, but Rachel just stared at the cheerleaders in horror. Tammi didn’t seem to notice the
outburst. She started talking about all the great ways we could get involved during our freshman
year.
“Run,” Rachel told me. “Now.”
“Why?”
Rachel didn’t explain. She pushed her way to the edge of the bleachers, ignoring the
frowning teachers and grumbling kids she was stepping on.
I hesitated. Tammi was explaining how we were about to break into small groups and tour
the school. Kelli caught my eye and gave me an amused smile, like she was waiting to see what I’d
do. It would look bad if I left right now. Paul Blofis was down there with the rest of the teachers. He’d
wonder what was wrong.
Then I thought about Rachel Elizabeth Dare, and the special ability she’d shown last winter
at Hoover Dam. She’d been able to see a group of security guards who weren’t guards at all, who
weren’t even human. My heart pounding, I got up and followed her out of the gym.
***
I found Rachel in the band room. She was hiding behind a bass drum in the percussion
section.
“Get over here!” she said. “Keep your head down!”
I felt pretty silly hiding behind a bunch of bongos, but I crouched down beside her.
“Did they follow you?” Rachel asked.
“You mean the cheerleaders?”
She nodded nervously.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “What are they? What did you see?”
Her green eyes were bright with fear. She had a sprinkle of freckles on her face that
reminded me of constellations. Her maroon T-shirt read HARVARD ART DEPT. “You…you wouldn’t
believe me.”
“Oh, yeah, I would,” I promised. “I know you can see through the Mist.”
“The what?”
“The Mist. It’s…well, it’s like this veil that hides the way things really are. Some mortals are
born with the ability to see through it. Like you.”