My Girlfriend Takes Me to the Graveyard After grabbing my demigod go bag (complete with toothbrush) at home, I headed downtown to find Annabeth.
The School of Design, New York City, is a private boarding school not far from Gramercy Park. I figured it would be easier to find Annabeth there in person rather than trying to send an Iris-message. Demigods can’t use cell phones (monster homing beacon, instant death, etc.). Iris-messages are a good substitute, but they require some planning. You don’t want to appear as a shimmering rainbow vision and start talking to your friend when there are a bunch of mortal observers around. (Side effects can include panic attacks, mass hysteria, and psychological misdiagnoses. Ask your doctor if Iris-messages are right for you.)
SODNYC occupies a cluster of townhouses and office buildings right off
the Bowery. If not for the banners hanging outside, you’d never guess there is a school there. I didn’t know my way around the whole campus, but I
knew the three places where I was most likely to find Annabeth: her dormitory, the library, and the Black Ant, a Mexican restaurant around the corner. Figuring that she liked to study in the afternoon, I headed for the library.
Technically, they shouldn’t have allowed me in. The library is for students only, but the security guard on duty, Florence, knew me and liked me, so
she just smiled and nodded as I walked past. See? I can be charming when I’m not causing chaos. Sometimes even when I am causing chaos.
This month’s student art display featured “recycled clothing”—in this case meaning a bunch of evening gowns and tuxedos made from plastic bags, candy wrappers, and flattened aluminum cans. I didn’t understand it, but I guess that’s why I wasn’t in design school.
I climbed the stairs to the third floor. Annabeth was camped out in her usual spot—a comfy sofa arrangement in the architecture section—with her study buddies, Dave and Hana, who were laughing quietly at something Annabeth had just said. She wore an oversize UC Berkeley sweatshirt, distressed jeans, and new Doc Martens. Her hair was Dutch-braided, the
tails curled over her shoulders like raptor talons. Her eyes gleamed with humor.
I’m not sure if you’ve ever had this experience—when you see someone you know from a distance, and for a split second you don’t recognize them.
Your brain just registers, Oh, that person looks amazing. Then you realize it’s someone you’ve known for years—your girlfriend, in fact—and that
sends a tingle of happiness through your whole body.
Sure, maybe I had a twinge of angst, too, because she was sitting there laughing with other people, and for the moment I was on the outside. I wouldn’t call it jealousy, though. More like anxious motivation. Annabeth
was a natural people person. Everybody wanted to hang out with her and get her approval. She would always succeed whether I was around or not.
That made me even more determined to graduate and get into college with her, even if it meant doing torturous activities like studying or reading.
Wow, the power she had over the way I thought … kinda scary. As a son of Poseidon, all I can do is make watercoolers explode and talk to walruses.
“Hey,” I said.
Dave made room for me on the couch. “’Sup, Percy?”
Hana gave me a forced smile. I don’t think she liked me very much, maybe because she wasn’t sure I was good enough for Annabeth … which, hey, fair concern, but I always tried to be nice to her.
Annabeth took my hand. “We were just talking about our new assignment
—redesigning the Met.”
“Oh, nice.” I tried not to shudder. I’d had a bad experience at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and by bad experience I mean almost getting killed by my sixth-grade math teacher when she turned out to be a Fury.
“I would go full postmodern,” Dave said. “Like, really open up the space and get rid of the classic columns and stuff. That’s so last century.”
“I’d make it avant-garde,” Hana said. “Escher-esque stairways everywhere. You know?”
She aimed the question at me like a challenge. I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just nodded.
“What would you do, Percy?” Dave asked.
I had a moment of panic. I managed to avoid blurting out that the theme was free will versus fate. The only Met redesign I could think of would be to build safe rooms and sword dispensers everywhere so young demigods
could survive monster attacks more easily. But I couldn’t exactly share that with Hana and Dave.
“No idea,” I admitted. “I’ll leave designing to the experts.” I turned to Annabeth. “What was your idea?”
Dave and Hana started giggling again.
“I was just telling them,” Annabeth said. “Glass and marshmallows.” “Sorry?”
“Glass and marshmallows.” “Genius,” said Dave.
“Bonkers,” said Hana. “I don’t get it,” I said.
The nearest librarian glanced over and raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t a shhh, but it was as close as I’d ever gotten.
Annabeth continued at a lower volume. “So you know how the Met has
thousands of pieces of art just sitting in warehouses? My plan is to triple the display space—redo the whole building as a giant spiral of glass floors and walls around a central atrium. The art would be protected inside the glass, and those see-through panels would let you examine the art from the back,
the front, above, below. You’d feel like you were floating in a three- dimensional cloud of art.”
“And the marshmallows?” I asked, because I tend to focus on things that are tasty.
“Big, soft white beanbag chairs,” she said, “all through the museum. No more uncomfortable benches. When kids come in, they can flop anywhere they want and relax and enjoy the art.”
“Or take a nap,” I suggested.
“That’s valid, too!” Annabeth said. “It’s a public space. Why not take a nap with a statue of Athena or a Frida Kahlo self-portrait?”
“Comfy marshmallows in a glass temple,” I said. “Okay, I’m sold.” She squeezed my hand. “So, what’s up with you?”
“Oh, just … got an assignment I wasn’t expecting. I wondered if you could help.”
Annabeth’s expression turned more serious. She knew exactly what I was saying, even if Dave and Hana didn’t.
“She can’t do all your homework for you, dude,” Hana said. “Yeah, she has to do our homework,” Dave said.
“Ugh, you two,” Annabeth said, but she gave them a smile. “Okay, Jackson, I can spare you a few minutes. Come on.” She hauled me up and led me out of the library, Paul and Hana whispering behind our backs, probably wondering what Annabeth saw in me given my complete ignorance of architectural design.
Outside, we walked to Annabeth’s favorite thinking spot—a park bench under a maple tree in a nearby churchyard. She’d told me some famous architect was buried there. Peter Stuyvesant? Yeah, that’s the dude. They’d named like half the stuff in the neighborhood for him, so he must’ve been great with glass and marshmallows.
Annabeth said she felt inspired there, which was good enough for me. We sat watching the traffic crawl along Second Avenue, enjoying the perfect weather—cool, crisp and sunny, the kind you wanted to bottle up and open in the middle of August when Manhattan was a swamp.
“So …” Annabeth turned to face me. “What’s the quest?” I told her about my meeting with Hecate.
Annabeth listened with the kind of intensity most people only give to their favorite songs—like she wanted to memorize every word, analyze the meaning of every line and how it made her feel. She is a natural problem solver. Once I finished bringing her up to speed, I expected her to frown and start running mental equations, gaming out scenarios for all the things that might go wrong during a school week as Hecate’s house sitters.
Instead, she laughed.
“That’s awesome!” She kissed me on the cheek like I’d given her a gift.
“It is?” I asked. “Which part—taking care of demonic pets? Or getting incinerated if we fail?”
She waved away my concerns. “We won’t fail. Look, if I can play fetch with Cerberus, I can take care of a hellhound and a polecat.”
I winced. I still have nightmares about Hades’s three-headed guard dog.
Sometimes I wake up smelling Cerberus’s sulfurous breath in my face before I realize I just need to brush my teeth. For Annabeth, though, our
meeting with Cerberus had been the best part of our first excursion into the Underworld. Granted, that wasn’t saying much.
“Besides,” she said, “this means we have a venue for our party!” “Oh … you don’t … Wait, seriously?”
She didn’t look like she was kidding. A few weeks ago, Annabeth had confided that she’d always wanted to design a haunted house. She’d grown
up mostly at Camp Half-Blood, so she’d never done any of the typical Halloween activities like trick-or-treating, scary movies, or costume parties.
She dreamed of creating a terrifying experience for all our friends. To me, that seemed a little strange, since we had terrifying experiences all year round without having to design them.
This being our last year in high school, Annabeth was determined to
achieve this goal. The only problem was that she lived in a dorm and I lived in a tiny apartment. We couldn’t have a haunted house at camp, either,
because our camp director, Mr. D, wouldn’t allow it. It’s hard to know why
—probably because if he couldn’t have fun, nobody could have fun, and Mr. D’s idea of fun would have been to turn us all into Amazon river dolphins. I didn’t want to test him.
We’d half-heartedly planned our Halloween party for this coming Friday in Central Park, but it wasn’t ideal. Annabeth couldn’t construct a house of
horrors there. Even hanging decorations in the trees would be risky—the cops were liable to chase us off. Besides, running around the park in
costumes would feel too much like LARPing.
“You are serious,” I realized. “You want to have our party at Hecate’s mansion?”
“Well, she’s not going to be there,” Annabeth pointed out. “We just have to figure out what time she’ll be back and finish cleaning up before that.
Why not?”
I wasn’t even sure where to start with the why not s. Usually I was the one suggesting boneheaded ideas. It was Annabeth’s job to explain all the
reasons why they were boneheaded. I wasn’t used to our switching roles.
“Uh, I mentioned the incineration, didn’t I? Also, Hecate’s the goddess of the Mist and magic. Don’t you think she’ll know if we have a party at her house?”
“Hecate thinks Halloween is all about her, right? If she finds out, she’ll probably see the party as a form of worship. Besides, we’ll be super
respectful.”
“Respectful,” I said. “Have you met our friends?”
“I wonder if her house has enough cobwebs,” Annabeth mused, “or if I should buy some more ….”
“Now my arachnophobic girlfriend is talking about buying cobwebs. Who are you?”
“No spiders,” she said. “Just cobwebs. For ambience! Listen, I’m going to run and get my stuff. I’ll ask Hana to cover for me since I won’t be sleeping in the dorm this week. Oh my gods, this is so great! I’ll meet you at the Black Ant in an hour. We’ll get dinner to go!”
She kissed me and ran off toward her dormitory.
So … both Grover and Annabeth were weirdly excited about the Hecate challenge. There were cobwebs, a weasel, and Mexican food in my
immediate future. Even by my standards, this was going to be a strange week.
