I Go Dog-Skiing
The “fun” started with cleanup from the kibble-and-chicken massacre. We did the best we could, though I wished we had hazmat suits and maybe a
fire hose.
By the time I staggered back into the great room, I wasn’t much in the mood for my own dinner. That was just as well. Hecuba and Gale had another idea. They were both standing by the front door, holding their leashes in their mouths.
“Fine,” I told them. “But we’re not going all the way to Pennsylvania.
Annabeth and I have school tomorrow.”
I expected the animals to pout. Instead, they went bonkers with excitement. Gale chittered and ran in circles, dragging her heavy-metal harness behind her. If there had been a chicken carcass in the room, I imagine she would
have eviscerated it out of sheer joy.
Hecuba stood on her hind paws like she was feeling the Holy Spirit at a Sunday revival. Then she went into a play bow and barked with such force it rattled the candelabra.
Annabeth helped me get Hecuba’s collar on her. No matter the dog, Annabeth loved all of them—the bigger and scarier the better. When it came to my own hellhound buddy, Mrs. O’Leary, I found this
heartwarming. When Annabeth acted so casual around Hecuba, it was just worrying.
Grover spent a few minutes sweet-talking Gale, trying to calm her so he could put on her harness. “That’s a good polecat! So much prettier than a skunk or a vole! Such a lovely mustelid!”
Gale farted, which I guess was a sign they were bonding.
At last, we had both animals on their leashes. Annabeth held Hecuba’s, which had a bar handle on the end like a waterskiing rope. Grover took charge of Gale, who wrapped up his legs like a mummy as she raced around his hooves, ready to rock and roll.
“Good to go?” I asked once Grover had disentangled himself. “Good to go,” Annabeth agreed.
We were definitely not good to go. As soon as I opened the front door,
Hecuba tore down the sidewalk, dragging Annabeth behind her. Gale did her best to keep up, forcing Grover into a brisk jog.
I started to bolt after them. Then the door knockers yelled, “Lock the door! No, leave the door open! CRÊPES SUZETTE!”
I raced back inside, grabbed the keys, then locked up and ran after my friends, who were now disappearing up Lexington Avenue.
The only things that saved Annabeth from being dragged to death were her own fast feet and the fact that Hecuba was a sprinter, not a marathoner.
The oversize Labrador would race a block, stop to smell a trash can, race another block, look back to see if Annabeth had been killed in traffic, sniff another trash can, and so on. Because life is short. You have to take time to stop and smell the trash cans.
I caught up with them at 30th and Lex, nine blocks north of the manse. By this point, Gale was taking a break on board the Satyr Express. She was cheerfully perched on Grover’s head, gnawing on his left horn while he tried to coax her down without much luck. I wondered if mortal passersby saw the polecat, or if they thought Grover was just talking to himself and
having a really bad hair day. Annabeth’s braids had come undone, like she’d just been through a wind tunnel. She had new stains on her shirt, new rips in her jeans, and a skinned left knee.
“My turn?” I gestured to the leash. She handed it over.
“Running shoes,” she gasped, nodding toward her flats. “Tomorrow, I bring running shoes.”
“WOOOF!” Hecuba must have liked the word running. I had just enough time to grab the ski handle before she yanked me into a full-out sprint.
By the time we got to East 80th, I was sweating, out of breath, and in total agreement with Annabeth about running shoes.
While Hecuba deposited a Niagara Falls of pee on a manhole cover in the middle of the street, Grover trotted up to me, his polecat friend chattering happily on top of his head. “Doing okay?” he asked me.
I wanted to comment that not all of us had goat hooves for running, but I didn’t have enough air in my lungs. I just gave him a thumbs-up. Then Hecuba took off again.
As my muscles turned to putty, my mind started to wander. I realized that I’d never actually walked Mrs. O’Leary. We’d played together and romped around, but whenever we needed to travel, we did so through her shadow- teleportation power, which made her a very handy friend. I wondered if
Hecuba could do that, or if Hecate had taken away her power with a shadow-ectomy.
What would Mrs. O’Leary think of Hecuba? Something told me they would not have a meet-cute. With Mrs. O’Leary, I’d never doubted she had the soul of a dog—an ancient giant supernatural dog from the Underworld, but still a dog.
With Hecuba … well, I tried not to look in her eyes for too long. When I did, I saw something worrisome—the echo of a human personality. My friend Hazel had told me that Gale and Hecuba were both human once, back in ancient times. I couldn’t recall the details, but it was clear that even after thousands of years, Hecuba still had plots and schemes swirling around in her brain. I didn’t know how to deal with that knowledge other than to hold on tighter to her leash and hope she didn’t decide to assassinate me by running in front of the 101 bus.
Around 95th Street, the polecat finally took mercy on us. Gale chittered and squeaked, pointing south with her nose. Hecuba huffed, irritated, but she seemed to agree that maybe it was time to go home.
“You want to take her?” I asked Annabeth.
“No, you’re doing great!” She’d taken her shoes off a few blocks before.
Normally this wasn’t recommended when walking in Manhattan, but she’d developed some nasty-looking blisters on her feet, so I decided not to complain as Hecuba towed me back down Lexington.
By the time we reached Gramercy Park, I felt like I’d been holding the weight of the sky on my shoulders. I don’t mean that figuratively—I’ve
done it. So has Annabeth. It’s the worst. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my hair got a gray streak again, like it did when I took on Atlas’s job. I wondered if that often happened to Greek demigods, and if they had to dye their hair back afterward. Maybe that’s why there’s a hair dye called Grecian Formula ….
I might have been getting delirious from oxygen deprivation ….
In fact, at the corner of Gramercy Park West, I had a hallucination. At the other end of the block, in the shadows between the streetlamps, I thought I
saw a glowing blue apparition—the figure of a child on a bicycle, pedaling away from us in terror. When I blinked, it was gone.
I took another step. Something crunched under my shoe. I looked down.
A child-size pair of eyeglasses lay broken on the pavement …. Then they too vanished into mist.
“You okay?” asked Annabeth. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer. “Hecate’s the goddess of ghosts, right?” Annabeth frowned. “You think you saw one?”
“I’m not sure ….”
“Guys, come on!” Grover called from up ahead, blissfully unconcerned. “It’s finally time for our dinner!”
I unlocked the front door, trying to ignore the knockers that were threatening to hex us if we didn’t play their guessing game. We wrestled the
animals out of their leashes, then headed to the basement kitchen to make our meal: some greens and trail mix Grover had brought, along with Annabeth’s bug-licious bounty from the Black Ant.
As I was trying to find the microwave to reheat the Mexican food, I noticed Grover hovering near Hecate’s ice cream machine.
“Remember, no touchy,” I warned him.
“Of course not!” He sounded offended, maybe because he’d been thinking about doing exactly that. “Not until ten a.m. tomorrow morning, with safety gloves, blah, blah, blah. I think I found the microwave. Oh, wait, it says Easy Curse Oven. Never mind.”
Once our food was reheated, we made camp in the great room. Grover’s bedrolls were surprisingly comfortable, only slightly nibbled by rats, and
they didn’t smell like rodents at all—more like pine needles and wild mint.
In the dim candlelight, I could almost believe the silver flecks on the ceiling really were constellations in a dark rural sky.
If only we’d had a campfire … but I imagined that would’ve been against city codes. I wondered if Hecate had smoke detectors. If they went off, would they summon the FDNY or some godly brigade of hosers? That sounded like a good job for children of Poseidon. Maybe it was another career path I could look into if college didn’t work out.
Hecuba and Gale didn’t go to their rooms and fall right to sleep like good pets. Instead they sat at the edge of our imaginary campfire and watched us
as if they’d never seen humans have dinner before. Hecuba’s sorrowful eyes followed every bit of food that went into my mouth. I was tempted to throw her my grasshopper tlayudas, but Hecate had said no treats. So I just picked at my plate, making nom-nom sounds and relying on the dim light to hide
the fact that I was avoiding the bug meat.
“This is nice,” Annabeth said after she’d finished her meal.
“I admire your positivity,” I said.
She nudged my knee. “Ah, c’mon, Seaweed Brain. It’s not so bad. As far as quests go, this is luxury! We have heat and running water. Speaking of which, I’m going to go find a shower ….”
She got up to do that while Grover and I cleared the dishes.
When Annabeth came back, her hair was wrapped in a towel. She’d changed into gray flannel owl-patterned pj’s. Her blistered feet were bandaged, and she had a strange smirk on her face. “You guys need to see the bathrooms.”
Trailed by Hecuba and Gale, we went upstairs to check out the wondrous facilities. Apparently, I’d been right about Hecate magicking them into
existence the moment I asked. Not being a plumber, or a human, the
goddess hadn’t remembered how bath fixtures worked, so she’d created a variety of rooms, none of which made much sense. In the first bathroom we visited, the shower worked normally, but the toilet was on the ceiling, the water staying in the bowl in defiance of gravity.
“What happens if you flush it?” I wondered.
Annabeth laughed. “Percy, I’ve seen what happens when you mess with plumbing. If you want to try that, wait until I’m out of the room.”
She put a sticky note on the bathroom door: SHOWER OKAY, just to mark which one we could use. Then she led us to her next discovery. This bathroom was lined in black leather with spiky chrome fixtures.
Gale chittered in approval.
Grover grunted. “You’re right. Metal.”
The shower came in one temperature: ice-cold. The towels were chain mail. “No thanks,” I decided. “What about the—”
“Careful,” Annabeth warned. She used a plunger to open the toilet lid.
Steam billowed out. The water in the bowl bubbled like a stewpot. “It’s a boilet,” I said.
I grinned, pleased with myself. Hecuba growled. Apparently, she didn’t appreciate my humor. Annabeth often told me I would make a great dad, because I already had the right jokes—stupid, corny, and stupid.
We spent a few more minutes exploring the wonders of Hecate’s bathrooms. We managed to locate three working toilets that would not kill us and two working showers, along with a bathtub that was a working koi pond. Grover assured us that would suffice for him as long as the fish didn’t mind.
Once we’d all gotten ready for bed, we gathered again in the great room.
The polecat and the hellhound cuddled next to the grand piano, which was almost cute if you could ignore the way Hecuba bared her fangs while she slept, and Gale’s gas problems.
“Good first day,” Grover sighed. “Gotta get easier from here, right?” Three seconds later, he was snoring.
I hoped this might give me some time to talk to Annabeth. I was worried about the strange apparition I’d seen in front of the building—the fleeing child, the broken glasses. I was worried about leaving Grover alone
tomorrow with magical strawberry ice cream while we went to school. And I was worried about the hellhound and the polecat chewing my face while I slept.
But Annabeth must’ve been exhausted too. She nestled into her rat-recycled bedroll and was out like a torch.
Me, I stayed up for a while, staring at the speckled constellations on the ceiling. I thought about Grover’s comment—that things had to get easier.
The problem was, in Percy World, things never got easier, only weirder.
