Atty Jackson and the Lightning Thief

I was used to weird experiences every so often, but this? This was completely different. This felt like a 24/7 dream (or were the past few months the dream?) where everyone around me was entirely convinced that Mrs. Kerr - some blonde woman I had never seen before in my life - had been our math teacher since Christmas. I almost believed it myself, everyone else was so convincing.

Almost.

Grover couldn’t fool me. Every so often, I’d spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on someone, and they’d just look at me like I was insane - which I really felt like I was - except for Grover, who without fail would hesitate and wouldn’t look me in the eyes. He really was a terrible liar.

I wasn’t insane. I knew that something had happened at the museum. I did often have issues sleeping, but now, I was being woken up by nightmares of demon math teachers almost every night. I’m not entirely sure if those are better or worse than the nightmares from a couple years prior (still not telling what happened).

Due to this increased lack of sleep, I started becoming significantly more irritable in class. I was sent outside for disruptive behavior more often. My grades fell to Fs - still better than the year I’m not telling you about. I started getting into more fights with Nancy Bobofits and other bullies. One time, my English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped and called him an ‘old sot.’ I don’t even know what it means, but it sounded good. Can you blame me, anyway? Asking the dyslexic girl about her inability to spell? Dude deserved a lot worse if you ask me.

I did try. I tried so hard. But my lack of sleep had made it even harder to focus on reading the material. I couldn’t even get through a single paragraph without the words floating off the page and jumbling up in midair.

Eventually, some guy thought it would be a brilliant idea to try and get me alone with his buddies. Somehow, I came out on top of that fight, if only from sheer desperation (at this point you probably figured out what happened a couple years before but I really don’t want to talk about it).

Of course, I got in trouble for it anyway, and it was now official: I was not being invited back to Yancy Academy for the next year.

Fine. Just fine.

Fuck this school, honestly. It would be so much nicer to be able to stay at home with my mom. Public school wouldn’t be that bad. And after Gabe got kicked out, it was significantly nicer there, anyway.

But still… There were things I’d miss about Yancy. The view out my dorm window was beautiful, overlooking the Hudson river, with a nice relaxing smell of pine trees. I’d miss Grover a lot. He had been such an incredible friend, even if a little strange.

I’d also miss Latin classes - mainly because Mr. Brunner was actually nice to me. But all the same… I would miss his faith in me. His belief that I could do well.

Exams were fast approaching, and despite my efforts to study for all the subjects, I found myself focusing more and more on Latin before the others. The others were hard, sure, and I had no illusions of doing well in English especially. But what Mr. Brunner said, about what he taught me being vitally important to my life… Well, that stuck with me.

The night before the Latin exam, I got so frustrated I threw my textbook across my dorm room. My roommate, a girl named Sally (weirdly enough, also my mom’s name), who I had barely spoken 5 words to across the entire semester since I’d been moved to this dorm, looked up from her laptop. “You ok?”

I sighed. “Fine. Just…”

“Dyslexia?”

I turned to stare at her. “How did you know that?”

She snorted. “We may not actually talk to each other, Jackson, but we have been roommates for several months now. Also, I know how hard it can be, my cousin also has it. Haven’t talked to him in years, but I do remember him complaining about it.”

I picked up the book. Fortunately it hadn’t been damaged. “It’s not only that. That is the biggest problem, but sometimes I just… mix things up. There are so many names and whatnot. How am I supposed to remember the difference between Charon and Chiron or Polydectes and Polydeuces?”

Sally laughed. “Well, I’m not taking the class, so I can’t exactly help you. Why don’t you try asking the teacher to help you out a bit? Brunner, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. I might, it’s just…”

“Just what, Jackson?”

“Can you call me Atty? Jackson feels impersonal, and we’ve been sleeping in the same room for a while now.”

“Fine, Atty. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never actually asked a teacher for help before. Also… I really don’t like being alone with teachers. I trust Mr. Brunner,” I hastily added. “But being alone with teachers brings back… not pleasant memories.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

I shuddered. “I would rather not, actually.”

She looked at me with sympathy. “Would you like me to come with? Then you wouldn’t be alone with him.”

I found myself nodding. “Sure.”

We walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most were dark and empty, owing to the late hour (I checked my watch, 9:30 pm, damn), but Mr. Brunner’s door was ajar, light stretching across the hallway floor.

I was about to reach for the handle, when I heard a voice. Grover’s voice. “..worried about Atty, sir.”

I froze, Sally bumping into my back.

I don’t usually eavesdrop on people, but I dare you not to listen in if you catch your best friend talking about you to an adult.

“...alone this summer. I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too-”

“We would only make matters worse by rushing her.” Mr. Brunner replied. “She is… not ready for something like this at the moment.”

“But she doesn’t have time! The summer solstice deadline-”

“Will need to be resolved without her. Let her enjoy her ignorance while she can.”

“But sir, she saw her.”

“Her imagination, The Mist over the students and staff will convince her of that.”

“Sir, I - I can’t fail in my duties again.” Grover choked up. “You know what that would mean for me.”

“You haven’t failed yet, Grover,” Mr. Brunner said in a kind tone. “I should have seen her for what she was. Now, we should just worry about keeping Atty alive until next fall-”

My textbook fell out of my hands and onto the floor. Sally, who had been leaning over my shoulder, also listening in, jumped back.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

My heart hammering, I snatched my book off the ground and back away down the hall, Sally following me.

A large shadow slid across the window on Brunner’s office door, much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archer’s bow.

I glanced at Sally, and she mouthed ‘what the fuck’ at me. I opened the nearest door, grabbed Sally’s arm, and slipped inside.

A few seconds later, we heard a slow clopping noise, like hooves, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside our door. A large dark shape paused in front of the door, before moving on.

I felt sweat on my forehead. I wiped at it.

Somewhere down the hallway, Mr. Brunner said, “nothing. My nerves haven’t been right since the winter solstice.”

“Mine neither,” Grover said. “But I could have sworn I heard something.”

“Go back to your dorm. You have a long day of exams tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me…”

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner’s office.

I trembled and stepped back from the door, collapsing in a chair.

“You know, you could give a girl the wrong idea like this, Atty.”

I yelped and turned to Sally.

She took a breath. “That was a little freaky, huh?”

I nodded.

“Are you gonna confront your friend about it? Like, I think at this point you really should be getting answers.”

I shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe. But I also feel like I don’t actually want those answers.”

“Suit yourself. I’m just saying if it were me, I’d want answers.”

“I need to go back to studying.”

“You need to relax; you’re shaking, Atty.”

I realized I was trembling. “It’s cold in here.”

“I’m not saying I blamed you.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the chair. “Come on. We can’t stay here, what if a teacher catches us?”

I shuddered. Definitely did not want that happening again, even if I wasn’t doing anything with Sally.

After returning to the dorms, Sally got back on her laptop to continue studying, while I tried to struggle through more of the mythology book, eventually growing too frustrated to continue. I lay down on my bed, staring at Sally’s bunk above mine.

I was confused and concerned about what I’d overheard.

Let’s focus on keeping Atty alive until next fall.

I eventually fell into a restless sleep.

 

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three hour latin exam, my mind filled with names I’d misspelled (hopefully I’d least remembered who’s who and Mr. Brunner would cut me some slack on the spelling), Mr. Brunner called me back inside.

For a second, I was worried he’d found out about me eavesdropping the night before, but that wasn’t it.

“Atty, don’t be discouraged about leaving Yancy, it’s… it’s for the best.”

Despite the kind tone, the words were still embarrassing. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other students could hear, and there were some snickers.

“Okay, sir,” I mumbled.

“I mean…” Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn’t sure how to phrase what he had to say. “This isn’t the right place for you. It was only a matter of time.”

My eyes stung. “You’re not wrong.” Despite the fact I knew that getting kicked out of here was inevitable and I knew that I could never have the fresh start I wanted here, him saying this hurt. My favorite teacher, in front of the entire class, telling me that my expulsion was destiny.

“Right,” I said, my grip on the strap of my backpack tightening.

“No, no,” he said. “Oh, confound it all. What I’m trying to say is… you’re not normal, Atty. That’s nothing-”

“Thanks,” I blurted out. “Thank you so much for the reminder. ‘Oh, silly Jackson, he can never be a normal girl.’ I so needed that.”

“Atty-”

But I was already gone, storming out the door.

When I reached my dorm, I huffed and slammed my bag onto my bed.

“Bad day of exams?” Sally said.

I sighed. “It’s not that.”

She pushed her laptop aside, turning in her chair to face me. “What is it then?”

“Brunner, he-” I swallowed. “He took me aside after the exam. I think he thought he was being encouraging, but…”

“Good intentions, but he fucked it anyway?”

I nodded.

I sat down on my bed, running a hand through my hair.

“Your hair is pretty,” Sally said.

I smiled in spite of myself. “Thanks, Sally.”

 

The last day of term, I shoved my clothes haphazardly into my suitcase. I quickly took my HRT before slipping the pill bottles into the suitcase and zipping it up.

The other girls were discussing their plans for vacation. One of them was going to Hawaii, another was going on a Mediterranean cruise. They were all a bunch of troubled kids, like myself, but they were also rich kids. Their parents were CEOs or ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody from a family of nobodies.

The only other girl who talked to me was Sally, who came up to say goodbye. She was taking an early bus and had to move quickly. I waved to her as she ran out the door.

The other girls continued ignoring me, which was fine. I didn’t really care enough to say goodbye, so when I was done packing, I hefted my suitcase and carried it out of the common area.

I was dreading saying goodbye to Grover, but it turned out I didn’t have to yet. He had booked a ticket back to Manhattan on the same Greyhound I had. Convenient, that. I tried not to think about the conversation I’d overheard.

The bus station was technically not on school property, and while you technically weren’t allowed to smoke there, no one enforced it, so while we were waiting to board our bus, Grover looking around nervously as if expecting some of the other Yancy students waiting there to come pick on him, I quickly lit up a cigarette.

“You know that’s not good for you,” Grover said.

I shrugged. “Beats being stressed out all the time.”

He sighed. “You really need therapy, Atty.”

He was one hundred percent right, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

I was nearly done when our (late) bus finally pulled in, so I quickly took another puff before extinguishing the cigarette on my shoe.

Grover did not stop acting jumpy during the entire bus ride, despite the fact that I knew for a fact there were no other Yancy students on board, so I really wasn’t sure who he was expecting to bully him now.

Finally, after around a half hour of him nervously examining the aisle, I tapped him in the shoulder and said, “looking for Kindly Ones?”

He jumped so much he nearly fell out of his seat. “W-what?”

“I uh… night before the exam, I went to ask Mr. Brunner for some help, but… I heard you and him talking, and you mentioned something about there being a ‘Kindly One’ in the school.”

His eye twitched. “H-how much did you overhear?”

I shrugged. “Not much. What’s the summer solstice deadline?”

He winced. “Look, Atty… I was worried about you, ok? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers-”

“Grover,” I said, a little annoyed.

“And, I was telling Mr. Brunner I thought you might be overstressed or something, ‘cause there’s no such person as Mrs. Dodds-”

“Grover, I need you to know that you are fucking terrible at lying.”

He blushed.

From his shirt pocket, he pulled out a small rectangle, a business card. “Just, take this. In case you need me this summer.”

I took the card. It was written in a fancy script, which was absolutely horrible for my dyslexic ass to read. Eventually I made out something like:

Grover Underwood

Keeper

 

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

I frowned. “What’s Half-”

“Don’t say it out loud!” He yelped. “That’s, uhhhh… my summer address.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Summer address?”

He nodded.

I groaned inwardly. I’d never even considered Grover might be as rich as the other Yancy students.

“Okay,” I said, trying to not sound too upset. “So like, if I want to visit your mansion.”

He nodded. “Or- or if you need me.”

“Why on earth would I need you?”

It came out a bit harsher than I intended.

Grover blushed even harder, all the way down to his Adam’s apple (thank fuck I didn’t manage to get one of those). “Look, Atty. the truth is that I kinda need to protect you.”

I stared at him. “You’re joking.”

He shook his head.

“Grover,” I said, trying to keep my voice sounding calm. “What - exactly - is it you’re supposed to protect me from?”

Grover opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, there was a loud grinding noise coming from the bus’s engine, which started billowing black smoke. The driver limped the vehicle off to the side of the road.

After a few minutes tinkering around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we would all have to get off.

Grover and I filed off the bus with everyone else, people grumbling, but no one loudly complained, for which I was thankful.

We had broken down on a stretch of country road - basically, the middle of nowhere. On our side of the highway were nothing but maple trees as far as I could see. On the other side, shimmering in the heat from the sun, was a small, old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really good. There were heaping boxes of cherries, apples, apricots, and so many other things. I was tempted to cross and check some of it out - I was starting to feel a little hungry at this point.

There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a nearby maple, knitting the biggest pair of socks ever.

These socks were big enough that I could probably have worn one as a sweater if it had more holes, but they were definitely socks. The ladies on the right and left each knitted their own socks, while the lady in the middle was holding a basket filled with electric blue yarn.

All three of the women looked ancient - at least 100 years old. Their pale faces were wrinkled like beef jerky, their silver hair was tied back in white bandannas, and their bony arms sticking out of faded cotton dresses.

And they were looking right at me.

I looked over to Grover to comment about the ladies and saw that he had gone white as paper. His nose was twitching.

“Grover?” I said. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me they’re not looking at you. They are, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Fucking weird, huh? I’m kinda hungry, maybe I’ll go over and buy some fruit.”

Grover flinched. “You definitely do not want to do that, Atty.”

The old lady in the middle took out a massive pair of scissors - the blades long and made of gold and silver. I heard Grover catch his breath.

“Why not? You don’t think they’re poisoned. Like Snow White or something?”

Grover didn’t answer me, and instead said. “We’re getting back on the bus, come on.”

“What?” I said. “It’s like a million degrees in there.”

“Come on!” Grover pried open the doors and climbed inside, but I didn’t follow. I fished around in my pockets for some change, thinking maybe I’d grab and apricot to go, but before I could do anything else, the lady with the scissors snipped a line of the yarn, and I swear to you I could hear the sound of it from across all four lanes - audible, as if they had been right next to me. The other two ladies rolled up their now completed socks, putting them away.

At the rear of the bus, the driver yanked out a smoking hunk of metal from the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

That’s weird, I’m pretty sure that’s not how engines worked.

I turned back to look at the fruit stand, a bit disappointed I wouldn’t be getting any fruit, but the ladies and the entire fruit stand were nowhere to be seen.

After the bus started moving again - me sitting back in my seat next to Grover - I started to feel ill. My cheeks felt warm, and I couldn’t stop shaking.

Grover didn’t look much better either.

“Grover?”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell just happened man?”

He wiped at his forehead. “Atty, what did you see at the fruit stand?”

“You mean the old ladies? Also, I’m still miffed that I didn't get any fruit.”

Grover let out a nervous laugh. “You really did not want to buy any of that fruit, Atty.”

“Why not? Those ladies aren’t… like Mrs. Dodds, are they?”

His expression was hard to read. Troubled, but hard to read. I started to get the feeling those old ladies had been something even worse than Mrs. Dodds.

“Just tell me what you saw.”

“The one in the middle took out this massive pair of scissors - shears, really - and cut the yarn.”

Grover closed his eyes and made a strange gesture. Over his chest. It looked a bit like he was crossing himself, but it was different.

“You saw her snip the cord,” he said.

“Yeah. So what?” But I had the feeling that it was a bigger deal than I knew.

“This is not happening,” Grover muttered. He started chewing on his bottom lip. “Not like last time, please.”

“Last time? What are you talking about?”

“Always tenth grade. They never get past tenth.”

“Grover, what the fuck are you talking about?” He was really starting to scare me.

“Let me walk you home from the bus stop. Promise me, please.”

That seemed like a strange request, but I said, “yeah, you can walk me home.”

There was a period of silence during which Grover nearly lept out of his seat at a bump in the road.

“Is this like some sort of superstition?” I asked.

Grover didn’t answer.

“Grover - the snipping of the yarn thing. Does that mean someone is going to die?”

Grover looked at me mournfully, like he was already trying to pick out which flowers I’d like on my coffin (orchids, for reference).