the lightning thief | Page 3

up completely undigested in
the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and
scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time
for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and
acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I told Grover to keep going. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?"

Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go— intense brown eyes that could've been a
thousand years old and had seen everything.

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told me.

"About the Titans?"
 "About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will
accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard.

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman
armor and shouted: "What ho!'" and challenged us, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board
and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god
they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact
that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C— in my life.
No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all
those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner took one long sad look at the
stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He told me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along
Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I
figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York
state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from
lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables
crackers. Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course,
Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if
we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who
couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a
genius."
 Grover didn't say anything for a while. Then, when I thought he was going to give me some
deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he said, "Can I have your apple?"

I didn't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and thought about my mom's
apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I
wanted so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. She'd hug me and be glad to see me, but she'd be
disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if
this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I wouldn't
be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while
he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like
a motorized cafe table.

I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her
ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumped her half-eaten
lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody
had