Rick Riordan
The Titan’s Curse - 03
All I could say was, "Whoa."
The place was huge. The walls were lined with battle flags and weapon displays: antique
rifles, battle axes, and a bunch of other stuff. I mean, I knew Westover was a military school and all,
but the decorations seemed like overkill. Literally.
My hand went to my pocket, where I kept my lethal ballpoint pen, Riptide. I could already
sense something wrong in this place. Something dangerous. Thalia was rubbing her silver bracelet,
her favorite magic item. I knew we were thinking the same thing. A fight was coming.
Annabeth started to say, "I wonder where—"
The doors slammed shut behind us.
"Oo-kay," I mumbled. "Guess we'll stay awhile."
I could hear music echoing from the other end of the hall. It sounded like dance music.
We stashed our overnight bags behind a pillar and started down the hall. We hadn't gone
very far when I heard footsteps on the stone floor, and a man and woman marched out of the
shadows to intercept us.
They both had short gray hair and black military-style uniforms with red trim. The woman had
a wispy mustache, and the guy was clean-shaven, which seemed kind of backward to me. They
both walked stiffly, like they had broomsticks taped to their spines.
"Well?" the woman demanded. "What are you doing here?"
"Um…" I realized I hadn't planned for this. I'd been so focused on getting to Grover and
finding out what was wrong, I hadn't considered that someone might question three kids sneaking
into the school at night. We hadn't talked at all in the car about how we would get inside. I said,
"Ma'am, we're just—"
"Ha!" the man snapped, which made me jump. "Visitors are not allowed at the dance! You
shall be eee-jected!"
He had an accent—French, maybe. He pronounced his J like in Jacques, He was tall, with a
hawkish face. His nostrils flared when he spoke, which made it really hard not to stare up his nose,
and his eyes were two different colors—one brown, one blue—like an alley cat's.
I figured he was about to toss us into the snow, but then Thalia stepped forward and did
something very weird.
She snapped her fingers. The sound was sharp and loud. Maybe it was just my imagination,
but I felt a gust of wind ripple out from her hand, across the room. It washed over all of us, making
the banners rustle on the walls.
"Oh, but we're not visitors, sir," Thalia said. "We go to school here. You remember: I'm
Thalia. And this is Annabeth and Percy. We're in the eighth grade."
The male teacher narrowed his two-colored eyes. I didn't know what Thalia was thinking.
Now we'd probably get punished for lying and thrown into the snow. But the man seemed to be
hesitating.
He looked at his colleague. "Ms. Gottschalk, do you know these students?"
Despite the danger we were in, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. A teacher
named Got Chalk? He had to be kidding.
The woman blinked, like someone had just woken her up from a trance. "I… yes. I believe I
do, sir." She frowned at us. "Annabeth. Thalia. Percy. What are you doing away from the
gymnasium?"
Before we could answer, I heard more footsteps, and Grover ran up, breathless. "You made
it! You—"
He stopped short when he saw the teachers. "Oh, Mrs. Gottschalk. Dr. Thorn! I, uh—"
"What is it, Mr. Underwood?" said the man. His tone made it clear that he detested Grover.
"What do y ou mean, they made it? These students live here."
Grover swallowed. "Yes, sir. Of course, Dr. Thorn. I just meant, I'm so glad they made… the
punch for the dance! The punch is great. And they made it!"
Dr. Thorn glared at us. I decided one of his eyes had to be fake. The brown one? The blue
one? He looked like he wanted to pitch us off the castle's highest tower, but then Mrs. Gottschalk
said dreamily, "Yes, the punch is excellent. Now run along, all of you. You are not to leave the
gymnasium again!"
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