Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
95
95
"Um . . . nothing, I guess."
I gazed down the avenue, wondering what Mr. D had meant by nasty surprises. How much
worse could it get?
My eyes rested on a beat-up blue car. The hood was badly dented, like somebody had tried
to hammer out some huge craters. My skin tingled. Why did that car look so familiar? Then I
realized it was a Prius.
Paul's Prius.
I bolted down the street.
"Percy!" Annabeth called. "Where are you going?"
Paul was passed out in the driver's seat. My mom was snoring beside him. My mind felt like
mush. How had I not seen them before? They'd been sitting here in traffic for over a day, the battle
raging around them, and I hadn't even noticed.
"They . . . they must've seen those blue lights in the sky." I rattled the doors but they were
locked. "I need to get them out."
"Percy," Annabeth said gently.
"I can't leave them here!" I sounded a little crazy. I pounded on the windshield. "I have to
move them. I have to—"
"Percy, just . . . just hold on." Annabeth waved to Chiron, who was talking to some centaurs
down the block. "We can push the car to a side street, all right? They're going to be fine."
My hands trembled. After all I'd been through over the last few days, I felt so stupid and
weak, but the sight of my parents made me want to break down.
Chiron galloped over. "What's . . . Oh dear. I see."
"They were coming to find me," I said. "My mom must've sensed something was wrong."
"Most likely," Chiron said. "But, Percy, they will be fine. The best thing we can do for them is
stay focused on our job."
Then I noticed something in the backseat of the Prius, and my heart skipped a beat. Seat-
belted behind my mother was a black-and-white Greek jar about three feet tall. Its lid was wrapped
in a leather harness.
"No way," I muttered.
Annabeth pressed her hand to the window. "That's impossible! I thought you left that at the
Plaza."
"Locked in a vault," I agreed.
Chiron saw the jar and his eyes widened. "That isn't— "
"Pandora's jar." I told him about my meeting with Prometheus.
"Then the jar is yours," Chiron said grimly. "It will follow you and tempt you to open it, no
matter where you leave it. It will appear when you are weakest."
Like now, I thought. Looking at my helpless parents.
I imagined Prometheus smiling, so anxious to help out us poor mortals. Give up Hope, and I
will know that you are surrendering. I promise Kronos will be lenient.
Anger surged through me. I drew Riptide and cut through the driver's side window like it was
made of plastic wrap.
"We'll put the car in neutral," I said. "Push them out of the way. And take that stupid jar to
Olympus."
Chiron nodded. "A good plan. But, Percy . . ."
Whatever he was going to say, he faltered. A mechanical drumbeat grew loud in the
distance—the chop-chop-chop of a helicopter.
On a normal Monday morning i