GROVER UNEXPECTEDLY LOSES HIS PANTS
CONFESSION TIME:ย Iย DITCHEDย GROVERย as soon as we got to the bus terminal.โ
I know, I know. It was rude. But Grover was freaking me out, looking at
me like I was a dead man, muttering โWhy does this always happen?โ and โWhy does it always have to be sixth grade?โ
Whenever he got upset, Groverโs bladder acted up, so I wasnโt surprised when, as we got off the bus, he made me promise to wait for him, then made a beeline for the restroom. Instead of waiting, I got my suitcase, slipped outside, and caught the first taxi uptown.
โEast One-hundred-and-fourth and First,โ I told the driver.
A word about my mother, before you meet her.
Her name is Sally Jackson and sheโs 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 didnโt 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 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.
I donโt have any memories of him, just this sort of warm glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. My mom doesnโt like to talk about him because it makes her sad. She has no pictures.
See, they werenโt married. She told me he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.
Lost at sea, my mom told me. Not dead. Lost at sea.
She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I wasnโt an easy kid.
Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When I was young, I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe. Iโm sorry, but itโs the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts.
Between the two of us, we made my momโs life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and I got alongโฆwell, when I came home is a good example.
I walked into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blared ESPN. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet.
Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, โSo, youโre home.โ โWhereโs my mom?โ
โWorking,โ he said. โYou got any cash?โ
That was it. Noย Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?
Gabe had put on weight. He looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes. He had about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp, as if that made him handsome or something.
He managed the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, but he stayed home most of the time. I donโt know why he hadnโt been fired long before. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous, and on beer, of course. Always beer. Whenever I was home, he expected me to provide his gambling funds. He called that our โguy secret.โ Meaning, if I told my mom, he would punch my lights out.
โI donโt have any cash,โ I told him. He raised a greasy eyebrow.
Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which was surprising, since his own smell shouldโve covered up everything else.
โYou took a taxi from the bus station,โ he said. โProbably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?โ
Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looked at me with a twinge of sympathy. โCome on, Gabe,โ he said. โThe kid just got here.โ
โAm Iย right?โ Gabe repeated.
Eddie scowled into his bowl of pretzels. The other two guys passed gas in harmony.
โFine,โ I said. I dug a wad of dollars out of my pocket and threw the money on the table. โI hope you lose.โ
โYour report card came, brain boy!โ he shouted after me. โI wouldnโt act so snooty!โ
I slammed the door to my room, which really wasnโt my room. During school months, it was Gabeโs โstudy.โ He didnโt study anything in there except old car magazines, but he loved shoving my stuff in the closet, leaving his muddy boots on my windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne and cigars and stale beer.
I dropped my suitcase on the bed. Home sweet home.
Gabeโs smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit ladyโs shears snipping the yarn.
But as soon as I thought that, my legs felt weak. I remembered Groverโs look of panicโhow heโd made me promise I wouldnโt go home without him. A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someoneโsomethingโwas looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horrible talons.
Then I heard my momโs voice. โPercy?โ
She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted.
My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is warm as a quilt.
Sheโs got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, itโs like sheโs seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. Iโve never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe.
โOh, Percy.โ She hugged me tight. โI canโt believe it. Youโve grown since Christmas!โ
Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. Sheโd brought me a huge bag of โfree samples,โ the way she always did when I came home.
We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand through my hair and demanded to know everything I hadnโt put in my letters. She didnโt mention anything about my getting expelled. She didnโt seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing all right?
I told her she was smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her.
From the other room, Gabe yelled, โHey, Sallyโhow about some bean dip, huh?โ
I gritted my teeth.
My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She shouldโve been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.
For her sake, I tried to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy. I told her I wasnโt too down about the expulsion. Iโd lasted almost the whole year this time. Iโd made some new friends. Iโd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadnโt been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convinced myself. I started choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly didnโt seem so bad.
Until that trip to the museumโฆ
โWhat?โ my mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. โDid something scare you?โ
โNo, Mom.โ
I felt bad lying. I wanted to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I thought it would sound stupid.
She pursed her lips. She knew I was holding back, but she didnโt push
me.
โI have a surprise for you,โ she said. โWeโre going to the beach.โ My eyes widened. โMontauk?โ
โThree nightsโsame cabin.โ โWhen?โ
She smiled. โAs soon as I get changed.โ
I couldnโt believe it. My mom and I hadnโt been to Montauk the last two
summers, because Gabe said there wasnโt enough money.
Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, โBean dip, Sally? Didnโt you hear me?โ
I wanted to punch him, but I met my momโs eyes and I understood she was offering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then we would get out of here.
โI was on my way, honey,โ she told Gabe. โWe were just talking about the trip.โ
Gabeโs eyes got small. โThe trip? You mean you were serious about that?โ
โI knew it,โ I muttered. โHe wonโt let us go.โ
โOf course he will,โ my mom said evenly. โYour stepfather is just worried about money. Thatโs all. Besides,โ she added, โGabriel wonโt have
to settle for bean dip. Iโll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works.โ
Gabe softened a bit. โSo this money for your tripโฆit comes out of your clothes budget, right?โ
โYes, honey,โ my mother said.
โAnd you wonโt take my car anywhere but there and back.โ โWeโll be very careful.โ
Gabe scratched his double chin. โMaybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dipโฆAnd maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game.โ
Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week.
But my momโs eyes warned me not to make him mad.
Why did she put up with this guy? I wanted to scream. Why did she care what he thought?
โIโm sorry,โ I muttered. โIโm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now.โ
Gabeโs eyes narrowed. His tiny brain was probably trying to detect sarcasm in my statement.
โYeah, whatever,โ he decided. He went back to his game.
โThank you, Percy,โ my mom said. โOnce we get to Montauk, weโll talk more aboutโฆwhatever youโve forgotten to tell me, okay?โ
For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyesโthe same fear Iโd seen in Grover during the bus rideโas if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air.
But then her smile returned, and I figured I must have been mistaken.
She ruffled my hair and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip.
An hour later we were ready to leave.
Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch me lug my momโs bags to the car. He kept griping and groaning about losing her cookingโand more important, his โ78 Camaroโfor the whole weekend.
โNot a scratch on this car, brain boy,โ he warned me as I loaded the last bag. โNot one little scratch.โ
Like Iโd be the one driving. I was twelve. But that didnโt matter to Gabe.
If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, heโd find a way to blame
me.
Watching him lumber back toward the apartment building, I got so mad I
did something I canโt explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, I made the hand gesture Iโd seen Grover make on the bus, a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement toward Gabe. The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the staircase as if heโd been shot from a cannon. Maybe it was just the wind, or some freak accident with the hinges, but I didnโt stay long enough to find out.
I got in the Camaro and told my mom to step on it.
Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in.
I loved the place.
Weโd been going there since I was a baby. My mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place where sheโd met my dad.
As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea.
We got there at sunset, opened all the cabinโs windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine. We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.
I guess I should explain the blue food.
See, Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time. But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. Thisโalong with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Uglianoโwas proof that she wasnโt totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like me.
When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before
her parents died in the plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.
Eventually, I got up the nerve to ask about what was always on my mind whenever we came to Montaukโmy father. Momโs eyes went all misty. I figured she would tell me the same things she always did, but I never got tired of hearing them.
โHe was kind, Percy,โ she said. โTall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, too. You have his black hair, you know, and his green eyes.โ
Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. โI wish he could see you, Percy. He would be so proud.โ
I wondered how she could say that. What was so great about me? A dyslexic, hyperactive boy with a D+ report card, kicked out of school for the sixth time in six years.
โHow old was I?โ I asked. โI meanโฆwhen he left?โ
She watched the flames. โHe was only with me for one summer, Percy.
Right here at this beach. This cabin.โ โButโฆhe knew me as a baby.โ
โNo, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born.โ
I tried to square that with the fact that I seemed to rememberโฆsomething about my father. A warm glow. A smile.
I had always assumed he knew me as a baby. My mom had never said it outright, but still, Iโd felt it must be true. Now, to be told that heโd never even seen meโฆ
I felt angry at my father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resented him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry my mom. Heโd left us, and now we were stuck with Smelly Gabe.
โAre you going to send me away again?โ I asked her. โTo another boarding school?โ
She pulled a marshmallow from the fire.
โI donโt know, honey.โ Her voice was heavy. โI thinkโฆI think weโll have to do something.โ
โBecause you donโt want me around?โ I regretted the words as soon as they were out.
My momโs eyes welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezed it tight. โOh, Percy, no. IโIย haveย to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away.โ
Her words reminded me of what Mr. Brunner had saidโthat it was best for me to leave Yancy.
โBecause Iโm not normal,โ I said.
โYou say that as if itโs a bad thing, Percy. But you donโt realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought youโd finally be safe.โ
โSafe from what?โ
She met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to meโall the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me, some of which Iโd tried to forget.
During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.
Before thatโa really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope Iโd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.
In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move.
I knew I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. But I couldnโt make myself tell her. I had a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didnโt want that.
โIโve tried to keep you as close to me as I could,โ my mom said. โThey told me that was a mistake. But thereโs only one other option, Percyโthe place your father wanted to send you. And I justโฆI just canโt stand to do it.โ
โMy father wanted me to go to a special school?โ โNot a school,โ she said softly. โA summer camp.โ
My head was spinning. Why would my dadโwho hadnโt even stayed long enough to see me bornโtalk to my mom about a summer camp? And if it was so important, why hadnโt she ever mentioned it before?
โIโm sorry, Percy,โ she said, seeing the look in my eyes. โBut I canโt talk about it. IโI couldnโt send you to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good.โ
โFor good? But if itโs only a summer campโฆโ
She turned toward the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked her any more questions she would start to cry.
That night I had a vivid dream.
It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horseโs muzzle with its huge talons.
The horse reared up and kicked at the eagleโs wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.
I ran toward them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion. I knew I would be too late. I saw the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horseโs wide eyes, and I screamed,ย No!
I woke with a start.
Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning
making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery.
With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said, โHurricane.โ
I knew that was crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end.
Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voiceโ someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.
My mother sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock. Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain.
But he wasnโtโฆhe wasnโt exactly Grover.
โSearching all night,โ he gasped. โWhat were you thinking?โ
My mother looked at me in terrorโnot scared of Grover, but of why heโd come.
โPercy,โ she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. โWhat happened at school? What didnโt you tell me?โ
I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldnโt understand what I was seeing.
โO Zeu kai alloi theoi!โย he yelled. โItโs right behind me! Didnโt you tell her?โ
I was too shocked to register that heโd just cursed in ancient Greek, and Iโd understood him perfectly. I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover didnโt have his pants onโand where his legs should beโฆwhere his legs should beโฆ
My mom looked at me sternly and talked in a tone sheโd never used before: โPercy. Tell meย now!โ
I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs.
Dodds, and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.
She grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket, and said, โGet to the car. Both of you.ย Go!โ
Grover ran for the Camaroโbut he wasnโt running, exactly. He was trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs made sense to me. I understood how he could run so fast and still limp when he walked.
Because where his feet should be, there were no feet. There were cloven hooves.