Chapter Text
The morning sun hung low in the sky, its golden rays slanting through the trees as the school bus rumbled through the bustling streets of Manhattan. Percy sat near the back, his gaze drifting over the familiar landmarks as they passed. The city was the same, yet everything felt subtly different, as though he were seeing it through a veil of memories both recent and ancient. He had been here before, on this very bus, with these same classmates, heading toward the same destination. Yet, this time, he carried with him a burden of knowledge—a foretelling of the storm that was about to break upon his life.
The bus was filled with the chatter of students, their voices merging into a cacophony of sound that barely registered in Percy's ears. His mind was elsewhere, turning over the events that he knew were about to unfold. He glanced at Grover, who was sitting nervously beside him, his curly hair slightly askew as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. Grover was trying to hide it, but he could see the anxiety in his eyes, the tension in his posture. He knew what Grover was—a satyr, sent to protect him. But Grover didn’t yet realize that Percy knew the truth. Nancy, much like last time was throwing chunks of peanut butter and ketchup sandwiches at Grover's head. “That's it." Percy started to get up, but Grover pulled him back to his seat. “You're already on probation," he reminded him. “You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."
As the bus pulled up in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Percy felt a strange mixture of anticipation and dread. He remembered the last time he had been here, how he had felt so out of place, struggling to understand why the world seemed to conspire against him. But this time, he knew. He knew what lay hidden in the shadows, waiting to reveal itself.
The students filed off the bus, their shoes tapping against the stone steps as they entered the grand edifice of the museum. Percy walked with them, his senses heightened, every detail sharp and clear. The towering columns of the entrance loomed above them, ancient and imposing, like the pillars of a forgotten temple. Inside, the air was cool and faintly scented with the musty smell of old stone and preserved artifacts. The marble floors gleamed under the overhead lights, reflecting the images of long-dead heroes and gods captured in statues and paintings.
Mr. Brunner, their teacher—though Percy knew him as Chiron, the wise centaur—led the way, his voice echoing through the cavernous halls as he spoke of ancient Greece, of heroes and monsters, of gods and men. Percy listened, the words stirring memories that were both distant and immediate. He had heard these stories before, and lived them in a way that none of his classmates could understand. The myths were not just tales to him; they were a part of his life, a part of his very soul.
They came at last to a gallery filled with statues of the Olympian gods. The figures loomed over them, carved from marble and stone, their expressions serene yet powerful. Percy’s gaze lingered on the statue of Poseidon, his father, though he had not yet been told this in his first journey. The god stood tall, his trident raised as though commanding the very seas to bow before him. A pang of emotion struck Percy’s heart—a mix of longing, anger, and a strange sense of kinship.
As the class gathered around Mr Brunner, who was pointing out the significance of the thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling the class how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age, or at least physical age. Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and he turned around and sticking to the script that had occurred last time shouted, “Will you shut up?" The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story. "Mr. Jackson," he said, “did you have a comment?" Percy shook his head.
Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. “Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"
"That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"
“Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. “And he did this because..."
“Kronos was the king Titan, and he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," Percy continued, “and the gods won."
Some snickers from the group. Behind him, Nancy Bobofit mumbled to a friend, “Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, ‘Please explain why Kronos ate his kids."
“And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner said, “to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"
“Busted,” Grover muttered.
Even though Percy knew the answer and how it would indeed affect his life, Percy still needed to play the part of the clueless demigod and shrugged. “I don't know, sir."
“I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. “Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson.
Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing 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?"
Percy made a show of leaving with Grover. Mr. Brunner said, “Mr. Jackson. You must learn the answer to my question,” Mr. Brunner told me. "About the Titans?" Percy asked pretending to be unaware of why he wanted Percy to know the answer. “About real life. And how your studies apply to it. 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." In the past those words had caused Percy anger, despite Chiron lack of comforting words Percy knew he meant well.