pocket full of posies
❛ vi. grudges run deep ❜

━━━━━ IT WAS APOLLO'S FAULT.

               Okay, not really, but in some roundabout way it was.

               Josephine tried to look for the good in situations; to counter-act her constant pessimist thoughts and feelings and to make her feel better about all her shortcomings. And it was nice to know that there was a reason for all her shortcomings and crappy predicaments—it was her father, Apollo, God of the Sun. Josephine could easily blame him for all the wrongs in her life.

               And she did. Somewhat.

               Apollo hadn't been the one to cause the explosion on the bus, but it lead back to him in a long, confusing, twisting way of fate. If he had never sent Josephine to Beau Easton on April 13th, 1994 in a golden cradle, she wouldn't be in the mess she was.

               In some odd, strange way, it was nice to know there were Greek gods out there because then, Josephine had someone to blame when things started to go wrong. For instance, when a Greyhound bus has just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else. Most people would just think bad luck had really been on their side; but being a half-blood, Josephine knew better, she knew that some divine forces were really trying to fuck with her day.

               It also was Josephine's incredibly horrible bad luck, but she also blamed that all on her father, Apollo.

               All in all, Apollo was her scapegoat. If he hadn't created her from the mortal genuity of Beau Easton and the godly genuity of himself, Josephine Easton wouldn't be here.

               So there they were, Annabeth, Percy, Grover, and Josephine, walking through the woods on the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind them and the smell of Hudson reeking in their nose.

               Grover was shivering and braying nervously. His big goat eyes turned slit-pupilled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once."

               Josephine was still in shock. The explosion still rang in her ears. The adrenaline rush was crashing, her head was pounding, her arms sore, and her eyes burned from unshed tears. However, Annabeth kept pulling them along, saying, "Come on! The further away we get, the better."

               "All our money was back there," Percy reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything."

               "Well, maybe if you hadn't jumped into the fight—" started Annabeth, glaring at Percy.

               "What did you want me to do? Let you guys get yourself killed?"

               "We would've been fine. You don't have to protect us."

               "Slicked like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine."

               "Shut up, goat boy," said Annabeth.

               Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans ... a perfectly good bag of tin cans."

               They sloshed across some mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry.

               After a few minutes, Josephine fell in step next to Percy. "Thanks for not leaving, though," she said. "Back on the bus. You could have left, but you didn't. It was really brave."

               "Well, we're a team, right?" said Percy. "We're in this together."

               Josephine nodded. "And we'll get back Zeus's master bolt and see it returned."

               She saw Percy nod in the darkness.

               She stayed silent for a few moments. "I'm sorry about your mom, Perce. And if there's any way we can save her ..."

               "That was really cool, what you did," Percy started, dodging what she said about his mother. "Jumping on Dodds back. The daggers."

               Josephine gave him a hesitant smile. "I didn't know what else to do when the daggers didn't kill her."

               "Well, it worked," said Percy. "You haven't named the daggers anything?"

               She shook her head. "No, why would I need to?"

               "To be cooler?" Percy shrugged as they made their way through the trees.

               Josephine snickered as a tree cut in between her and Percy. "To be cooler? What would I even name them?"

               "I dunno ... Killer and Striker?"

               "That's stupid."

               Percy flushed. "Okay, you name them!"

               Josephine rolled her eyes. "I don't want to name them."

               "Fine—I'll name them, then. Just give me a few days."

               If you even have that long, that cruel voice muttered.

               Again—shut up, Josephine snapped.

               The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind them, leaving them in almost total darkness. Josephine couldn't see anything except for Percy's intense sea-green eyes.

               Josephine swallowed her sent of déjà vu, saying, "Okay, then, a few days. And it better not be as stupid as Killer and Striker!"

               Percy grinned at her. "Can't promise anything."

               "So you've been at camp since you were ten?" Percy asked.

               "Yeah. Two years." Josephine nodded. "My dad—my mortal dad—uh, didn't ... I decided it was best if I go."

               After he started predicting that you would suffer, that voice reminded her. She pushed the voice aside and continued, "We don't talk much anymore."

               Or, not at all, that voice quipped.

               Please, for the love of Apollo's blinding teeth, shut the fuck up, Josephine pleaded.

               How do you know if his teeth are blinding? You've never met Apollo! that voice countered.

               Josephine was deciding she needed a name for it. Maybe Asshole would be appropriate? Or perhaps Pain-In-Her-Ass?

               "And you haven't left Camp in those two years?" Percy pried.

               "Only short field trips, like the winter solstice," she said. "I mean, Camp is my home and all. My mortal dad and I, um, clashed too much; it didn't work out for me to stay there. But all you do at Camp is train and train. But you never know how good you are against monsters, but the monsters are in the real world. The real world is where you learn if you're any good or not. That's why Annabeth was so hell-bent on going on this quest. She's been stuck at Camp for five years."

               Josephine could hear the doubt in her voice.

               Percy nudged her. "You're pretty good with those daggers."

               "Am I?"

               "Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me."

               Josephine smiled at him.

               "What do you think?" he asked suddenly.

               She looked at him. "What d'you mean?"

               "And what do you think about the real world?" Percy clarified. "Do you want to see it as badly as Annabeth?"

               The daughter of Apollo took a deep breath. "No." Her answer was confidence, unlike the rest of her. "I got my fair share of it traveling to Camp."

               Percy looked like he was ready to ask when Annabeth fell in line with them. Josephine was grateful. "You know, I've been thinking ... something funny back on the bus ..."

               Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill toot~toot~toot, like the sound of an owl being tortured.

               "Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!"

               He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff.

               Instead of finding a path, Percy immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-sized knot on his head.

✿

After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, Josephine started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. She could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. She hadn't had that kind of food in years, since the menu at Camp Half-Blood was based on grapes, bread, cheese, and extra-lean-cut nymph-prepared barbecue. Josephine really craved a cheeseburger and crispy French fries suddenly.

               They kept walking until they spotted a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side were a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and an open business, which was the source of the neon light and the drool-worthy smell.

               The business wasn't a fast-food restaurant like Josephine had expected, it was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos, cement grizzly bears, and other weird items that could be used for 'decoration'. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was impossible for Josephine to read, because if there's anything worse for dyslexia than regular English, it's cursive English on a neon sign.

               To her, it read: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROIUM.

               "What the fuck does that say?" Percy asked, squinting at the sign before them.

               "I don't know," Annabeth admitted, shrugging.

               The daughter of Athena loved reading so much, that it was easy to forget she also struggled with dyslexia, too.

               Grover translated for the demigods: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium."

               "Gnome Emporium?" Josephine repeated, starting to frown. "What the hell?"

               Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken.

               A heavy feeling settled over Josephine, masking the feeling of an empty stomach.

               Percy crossed the street with Annabeth behind him, following the smell of greasy food that wasn't so appetizing to Josephine anymore.

               "Hey ..." Grover warned.

               "The lights are on inside," said Annabeth. "Maybe it's open."

               "I don't know, guys," said Josephine nervously. "This place is giving me a bad vibe. I mean, there's no one else around here."

               Annabeth and Percy easily ignored the two. Josephine exchanged a look with Grover, reluctantly following after Percy and Annabeth.

               The front garden was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, and even a cement satyr playing with some reed pipes. It seemed Grover was just as spooked as Josephine.

               "Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!"

               "The one that went searching for Pan ..." Josephine asked. The end of her question hung in the air unsaid, 'and never came back?'

               Grover nodded.

               The four stopped at the warehouse door.

               "Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters."

               "Your nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth told him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?"

               "Yes," Josephine admitted, "but maybe we should just camp out in the woods tonight. Wait until morning to look for anything."

               "Meat!" Grover said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian."

               "You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," Percy reminded him.

               "Those are vegetables," the satyr insisted. "Come on. Let's leave. These statues are ... looking at me."

               Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall woman—that was all Josephine could tell of her as she had on a long black gown that covered everything but her hands. The woman's head was completely veiled, however, her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was all Josephine could make out. Her golden brown hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant.

               When she spoke, Josephine was unable to place her accent: "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?"

               "They're ... um ..." Annabeth started to say.

               "We're orphans," Percy lied.

               "Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded alien on her tongue. "But, my dears! Surely not!"

               "We got separated from our caravan," Percy said. "Our circus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meet him at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station. Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?"

               He has no grace, Asshole grumbled.

               Neither do you, Josephine hissed, quickly shoving the voice to the back of her mind.

               "Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area."

               They thanked her and went inside.

               Annabeth muttered, "Circus caravan?"

               Percy shrugged. "Always have a plan, right?"

               "Why would a restaurant be in the back of a warehouse?" Josephine whispered furiously. "I told you guys we should have just left!"

               "You said you were hungry," said Annabeth.

               "Not anymore, if I'm honest!"

               The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, all wearing different outfits with different expressions on their faces. Goosebumps raised all along Josephine's arms. She rubbed her arms, eyeing each statue warily. She felt like she was being watched, the eyes of each and every statue following the questers.

               Percy and Annabeth seemed to be in a trance, gravitating toward the food. They didn't register the way all the statue's eyes would follow them, Grover's nervous whimpers, or the close eye Aunty Em was keeping on them. The daughter of Apollo tensed as she heard the click of a door lock.

               When they reached the back of the warehouse, a fast food counter with a grill, soda fountain, pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could ever want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front.             

               "Please, sit down," said Aunty Em.

               "Awesome," Percy said.

               Josephine stayed at the edge of the table, standing up. "But, ma'am, we don't have any money."

               Perhaps Josephine hoped Aunty Em would kick them out; 'Not a paying customer, no service' kind of deal.

               "No, no, child. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans."

               Josephine gave her a pained smile. "Really, ma'am, we can just leave—"

               "Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth interrupted, throwing Josephine a pointed glare.

               Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but the old woman relaxed just as quickly.

               "Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful grey eyes, child."

               Josephine's heart dropped. They had never introduced themselves, and they had never uttered Annabeth's name, so there was no way Aunty Em would know what it was.

               Josephine thought the woman might have been a monster, just by the odd things, the statues, and Grover saying he smelled monsters, but that was the confirmation she needed.

               Their hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before they knew it, she'd brought out plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries.

               Percy was halfway through his burger before he remembered to breathe. Annabeth slurped her shake loudly. Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray's wax paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat. Josephine got three bites in on her burger before she felt too nauseous to eat.

               "What's that hissing noise?" the satyr asked.

               If Josephine stopped eyeing the woman nervously and listened closely, she could hear the faint noise. But Annabeth only shook her head.

               "Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover."

               "I take vitamins. For my ears."

               "That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax."

               "No, I hear it, too," said Josephine.

               "Do you also take vitamins, my dear?" asked Aunty Em.

               "No." Josephine shook her head.

               "Well, you certainly have bright eyes, Josephine," said Aunty Em. "But please, relax, my child."

               Josephine didn't want to relax—she couldn't relax. Not after the comments Aunty Em made toward Annabeth, Grover, or herself, not after hearing the door lock, not with all those human-sized statues ( especially with one that looked like Grover's uncle that had gone missing ), and especially with not the way Aunty Em eyed Percy like a ravenous animal.

               Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off the cloth around her face, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched them eat. It was entirely unsettling, having someone stare at Josephine but the daughter of Apollo could see nothing about Aunty Em.

               "So you sell gnomes," Percy noticed, trying to sound interested.

               Spoiler alert; he didn't do a good job.

               "Oh, yes," said Aunty Em. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know."

               "A lot of business on this road?" he continued casually.

               "Not so much, no. Since the highway was built ... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get."

               Josephine's neck tingled, as if somebody was intently looking at her. She turned, but it was only a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than most other garden statues. But something was wrong with her face, she looked terrified.

               Josephine looked back to Aunty Em. All the color drained from Josephine's face, her blood felt like it ran cold once more. Aunty Em—M for Medusa. The hissing. The statues, all those statues, of people with terror on their faces. Those people looked Medusa in the eye, and she captured their last moments.

               "Ah," Aunty Em—Medusa—said sadly, noticing Josephine looking around. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."

               Josephine shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She looked to Annabeth, to Grover, and to Percy, none of whom seemed to have the connections she had. Grover still looked nervous, but Annabeth and Percy were too engrossed in their meals.

               "So, you, uh—you make all these yourself? The statues?" the daughter of Apollo asked.

               "Oh, yes, Josephine. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are company." She sounded sad, Josephine will give her that, but now she knew what Aunty Em truly was.

               Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?"

               Josephine almost cried from relief.

               "It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a ... a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually, they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price."

               Now that three out of four were away something was off about this 'Aunty Em', Josephine thought it would be easier to get out of there. She looked at Percy, expecting him to be eating his fries, but the boy looked halfway asleep with drooping eyelids.

               "Percy?" she asked, shaking him awake. "I think we need to leave. Er—the ringmaster is waiting for us, I'm sure."

               Josephine's words were uneasy, she sat rigidly, her back as straight as a board. Annabeth was tense, her shoulders squared like she was ready for a fight. Grover was eating the wax paper off the tray by now, but Medusa didn't let on that she was seeing him eat it.

               "Such beautiful grey eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen grey eyes like those."

               She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but the demigod stood up abruptly.

               "Josephine's right. We really should go," she said.

               "Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "The ringmaster is waiting! Right!"

               But Percy didn't stand up with the other questers. It was obvious he didn't want to leave. But Josephine didn't care if she had to drag him out by the feet to get away from Medusa.

               "Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"

               "A pose?" Annabeth asked warily.

               "A picture?" asked Josephine cautiously, eyeing the statues that surrounded them.

               "Yes, Josephine, a photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children."

               Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on—"

               "Sure we can," Percy argued. "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?"

               Josephine wanted to scream. If they got out alive, she was going to see just how long she could curse the boy to speak in rhymes. ( And she couldn't even perform a rhyming curse, but she would find a way. )

               Medusa turned her keen eyes to the daughter of Athena. "Yes, Annabeth," she purred. "No harm."

               Before Josephine could do anything, Aunty Em had clamped a hand on her shoulder. Aunty Em led the questers back out the front door, into the garden of statues.

               Medusa directed them to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said. "I'll just position you correctly. The young girls sit in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side."

               "Not much light for a photo," Percy remarked as he sat on Josephine's right.

               "Exactly!" Josephine said, a little too eagerly. "And that's fine, so—"

               "Please, Josephine, dear, relax," said Medusa.

               "Where's your camera?" Grover asked Aunty Em.

               The monster stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?"

               Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand ..."

               "Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear. And, Josephine—please give me a bright smile."

               The monster still had no camera in her hand.

               "Percy—" Josephine said with urgency.

               It seemed he was starting to break out of the trance Medusa had put him in.

               "I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil ..."

               "Something's wrong," Josephine insisted.

               "Wrong?" Medusa repeated, reaching up to undo the cloth around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"

               "That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped loudly.

               "Look away from her!" Annabeth shouted. She whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished into thin air. Her invisible hands pushed Grover, Josephine, and Percy off the park bench.

               Josephine panicked out of fear. She raised her hands, her palms facing outward, and the fear boiling beneath her skin began to burn. It was like boils were under her skin and trying to break through. She heard Medusa hiss and recoil away. Grover brayed loudly, Percy gasped right next to Josephine. The burning feelings from the palms of her hands faded as quickly as it started.

               Not knowing what to do next, she scrambled off the floor and hid behind some statues. Her hands burned—not from the feelings of boils, her hands were perfectly clean, but with anticipation. It was like whatever that burning feeling beneath her skin was waiting for a chance like this. It made Josephine feel sick.

               She heard strange, rasping sounds behind her, some of it almost sounded like coughing. Josephine didn't dare look with her bare eyes, but she searched for something reflective. Laying aside, discarded, she found a metal flower pot. She lunged for it, using it as a mirror to see what was behind her.

               The image was garbled and warped, but Josephine could make out the dark reflection of Medusa. Her headdress was gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving—writhing—like snakes. And clearly, on her face were boils, green pustule boils, as if the venom from her snakes was inside. Josephine dropped the flower pot from fright but it was caught in mid-air.

               The air shimmered and Annabeth appeared, holding onto the flower pot and her cap of invisibility. The daughter of Athena shook her head, knowing how scared of snakes Josephine was.

               "What was that?" Annabeth asked in a furious whisper.

               Josephine stared. "What was what?"

               "The boils? Some green came from your hands," Annabeth waved her hands around, "and it hit Medusa in the face. You don't hear her? She's coughing!"

               "I don't know what that is, but it wasn't me!" Josephine insisted with a whisper. Her heart raced with fear, her skin burned with anticipation. It was like her muscle wanted to get back out there and take on Medusa, but her brain wanted to cower away. She felt like her body was being split in two.

               Annabeth set the flower pot down, crouching down next to Josephine. No longer looking at Medusa or her hair of snakes, she could see Percy sprawled at Medusa's feet. His eyes were trained hard on his hands, but his head started to inch upwards.

               But Annabeth yelled, "No, don't!"

               Medusa moved around, the rasping sound following her wherever she sent. Josephine shrank back, cursing herself for letting her phobia scare her so badly she couldn't help Percy.

               "Run!" Grover bleated. He raced across the gravel, yelling, "Maia!" to kick-start his flying sneakers.

               However, Percy didn't move. The trance Medusa had over him had started to fade, but it wasn't gone completely.

               "Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she told Percy soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up."

               Josephine thought of the way Medusa was first slain. It was Perseus, the son of Zeus, who killed her in her sleep. He decapitated her. She wasn't sure if that was even possible now. It wasn't like Josephine could throw her daggers at Medusa. She wasn't even good at throwing long distances. They couldn't get close enough to Medusa to slice through her, unless they were swinging blindly.

               Maybe their only option was decapitation.

               "The Grey-Eyed One did this to me, Percy," Medusa said. "Annabeth's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman to this."

               "Don't listen to her!" Annabeth shouted. "Run, Percy!"

               "Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer."

               "No," the son of Poseidon muttered.

               "Do you really want to help the gods?" asked the monster. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain."

               "Percy!" Josephine heard a buzzing sound, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Grover yelled, "Duck!"

               Josephine saw a glimpse of Grover flying while holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. His head was twitching from side to side, he was navigating by ears and nose alone.

               "Duck!" he yelled again. "I'll get her!"

               The flying goat seemed to jolt Percy back to reality. He dove to one side, covering his head for safety.

               Thwack!

               Medusa roared in rage, "You miserable satyr! I'll add you to my collection!"

               "That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back.

               Ker-whack!

               Medusa yelled again, her snakes hissing and spitting angrily. Josephine shivered, closing her eyes like it would make the monster go away.

               "We have to get to Percy," Annabeth murmured.

               Josephine whimpered miserably.

               Annabeth put on her Yankees cap, grabbing Josephine's wrist tightly. The daughter of Apollo was led along, Grover keeping them safe by distracting Medusa.

               Percy was crouching low behind some statues. Annabeth stopped by him, saying, "Percy!"

               He had been too busy keeping his eyes closed to notice Annabeth or Josephine's quiet footsteps. He flinched, nearly jumping a foot into the air.

               "Shit!" Percy hissed. "Don't do that!"

               Annabeth yanked off her Yankees cap, becoming visible. "You have to cut her head off."

               "What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here."

               "We have to kill her now," Josephine insisted. "Otherwise, she'll hunt us down for the rest of this quest. But I can't throw my daggers at her, because ... well, I can't look at her and I have to look to throw. Annabeth only has a knife and Medusa's so bitter with Athena that she'd tear Annabeth to shreds. You have a sword. And I think she wants to keep you as a statue, so you may be able to buy some time to kill her."

               "What? I can't—"

               Annabeth huffed. "Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?" She pointed to a pair of lovers, a man and a woman with their arms around each other, turned to stone by Medusa.

               She grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would work better." She studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some distortion. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of—"

               "Would you speak English?" Percy asked.

               Josephine had long grown accustomed to Annabeth's ramblings of words Josephine didn't understand. She was used to it and just let Annabeth talk, asking for an explanation later on.

               "I am!" Annabeth argued. "Just look at her in the glass."

               "But don't look at her directly," Josephine reminded Percy. "Not even from the corner of your eye."

               "Hey, guys!" Grover yelled from somewhere above them. "I think she's unconscious!"

               There was a loud roar.

               "Maybe not," corrected Grover. He went in for another pass with the tree branch.

               "Hurry!" Josephine urged. "Grover's got a good nose, but he's gonna crash soon."

               Percy took out his pen and uncapped it. Riptide grew into the bronze sword before Josephine's eyes.

               Josephine couldn't look—one: she'd turn into a statue, two: she refused to look at the snakes. She could hear the hissing and the spitting sounds of Medusa's hair and that was plenty enough for her. She heard the monster coughing, roaring insult after insult at the flying goat.

               The swooshing sound of a bat swinging filled her ears. It had to be Grover going in for another hit. But then, there was the soft thud of someone forcefully grabbing the tree branch mid-swing. There weren't any sounds loud enough to pinpoint until a crash and a painful, "Umph!" was heard.

               "Hey!" Percy yelled.

               "You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy," Medusa crooned. "I know you wouldn't."

               There was silence. Josephine hoped it was Percy hesitating and not him getting turned into stone.

               Grover moaned, "Percy, don't listen to her!"

               Medusa cackled. "Too late."

               The rasping sound got louder. The slashing of a sword cut through the air. A sickening shlock! Then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating.

               Annabeth grabbed Josephine's hand, dragging them out from behind the statues of Medusa's victims. Josephine kept her eyes trained hard above the floors, unwilling to look anywhere near the head.

               "Oh, yuck," Grover said.

               "Mega-yuck," Josephine corrected. She didn't have to see anything to know it was awful. "The sound was horrible."

               Annabeth let go of Josephine's hand, pulling out Medusa's black veil from her back pocket. She said, "Don't move."

               Josephine heard the rustling and moving of Annabeth wrapping the monster's head in the black cloth, then picking it up from the floor. Josephine finally looked down, the cloth had green juice dripping from it. She didn't know if that was from the boils or Medusa's blood ( do monsters have blood? Maybe it was the snakes' venom? ). Where the head had been was a small pool of the same juice.

               "Are you okay?" Josephine asked Percy, her voice shaking.

               "Yeah," Percy answered, though he didn't sound that okay. "Why didn't ... why didn't the head evaporate?"

               "Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," said Annabeth. "Same as your Minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you."

               "Don't unwrap it," Josephine said. "I don't want to see all those snakes."

               Grover groaned as he climbed down from a grizzly bear statue. He had a big welt on his forehead. His green rasta cap hung from one of his goat horns, and his fake feet had been knocked off his hooves. The magic sneakers were flying aimlessly around his head.

               "The Red Baron," Percy told Grover. "Good job, man."

               The satyr managed a bashful grin. "That was really not fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun."

               He snatched his shoes out of the air. Percy recapped his sword. Together, the four of them stumbled back to the warehouse.

               They found some old grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. They plopped it on the table where they had eaten and sat around it, too exhausted to speak.

               Finally, Percy spoke, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?"

               Annabeth flashed him an irritated look. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him."

               Percy's face turned red. "Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa."

               Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of Percy's voice, she said: "'It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?'"

               "Forget it," said Percy. "You're impossible."

               "You're insufferable."

               "You're—"

               Josephine stood up from the table, cutting off their argument. "I'm gonna go look in the back. I scraped my hands earlier and I want to clean the scrapes out."

               You also want to cry about what happened with the boils, the voice added.

               As she walked behind the counter, she said, "But we need to figure out what to do with the head."

               She cleaned her palms with the sink back there, washing the wounds out with water. Annabeth followed her back there. She looked at the scrapes with furrowed eyebrows.

               "I saw some aloe vera back in the garden," she said. "You said that can work as an ointment. And back there, that—I mean, the boils ..."

               "I don't know." Josephine's voice was shaky. "It wasn't me. I don't what it was, but it wasn't me."

               Plagues, Beau's voice rang in her head. Sickness. Madness. It will infect.

               Annabeth watched her for a moment. "Are you sure you don't?"

               Josephine nodded incessantly. "I'm sure I don't."

               You have an idea, that voice was back.

              The daughter of Apollo turned off the faucet, shaking as much water off her hands before grabbing a paper towel to dry her hands. She rummaged through the cabinets, looking past the food, and looking for anything to help with cuts. She found a lot of small, individual band-aids. She grabbed them, turning to Annabeth, who was watching her with a frown.

              "I'm just worried," Annabeth admitted suddenly.

              Josephine glanced at her. "About what?"

              "What if you get sick," said the blonde. "I don't want that. It would be horrible for a quest."

              The daughter of Apollo rolled her eyes. "Oh, of course."

             Annabeth smiled. "I'm also worried because you're my friend, Posie." Josephine threw her a nasty look for the nickname, but Annabeth raised her hands. "I don't know why you act so distant."

             "I don't act distant," Josephine bluffed.

             "You avoid people," Annabeth said dryly. "Like, everyone but your siblings. You realize people would love to be your friend back at Camp, right? I mean, I consider us friends. You listen when I tell you about all my plans, you ask questions and engaged. That's what a friend does. I would listen to you wholeheartedly if you talked to me about things."

            Listen even if she tells you all her nightmares, that cruel voice said.

            "I didn't know you considered us friends," Josephine admitted.

             'Cause you haven't had many friends before, said Asshole.

              Shut up, neither have you, she responded.

              Annabeth nudged her. "'Course I do."

              Josephine smiled hesitantly at the blonde and sat at the metal table, unwrapping some of the band-aids. Grover ate some of the waxed paper, and Percy was watching Josephine. Annabeth came back with a piece of aloe vera, cutting it in half with her bronze knife. She cleaned off the blade with her shirt as Josephine scooped some of the plant off.

              "Hold this," said Josephine, handing Percy the extra band-aids. She used her teeth to take off the backings of the band-aids. She put off some of the aloe vera, put on the band-aid, and cleaned the extra aloe vera off. She repeated the action for the other palm, asking for more assistance as she was left-handed.

              Once she was finished, the four were overcome with fatigued silence.

              Percy spoke first; "What did you do back there?" he asked the daughter of Apollo. "The boils and Medusa coughing?"

              Josephine stretched her fingers, looking at her bandaged palms. She didn't know, and didn't have an idea, unlike what the cruel voice said. "I don't know," she admitted meekly. "Seriously"—she looked at Annabeth pointedly—"I don't know. I've—I've never done that before."

              Suddenly, Percy stood up. "I'll be back," he said.

              "Percy," Josephine called after him, frowning. "What are you—?"

              He disappeared through a door before she could finish her question.

              Annabeth shook her head. "Gods know what he's doing right now. You know ... I've been thinking, back on the bus, the Furies asked for 'it', not 'him'. Weren't they asking about Percy? Why would they say 'it'?"

              "Maybe they got confused?" Josephine offered.

              "No. No way the Furies would be confused," argued Annabeth.

              Josephine hadn't really thought about it, it hadn't really stuck with her, at the time, she was too busy trying to not die. "So you think they were looking for something, not Percy, but something like an item?"

              "Why else would they say 'it'?" Annabeth said.

              "Do they think we have the lightning bolt?" asked Grover.

              Josephine's eyes widened. "Do they think we really have that?"

              "And that we'd give it to them? Just like that?" said Annabeth.

              Percy came back to the picnic table with a box in his hands. He packed up Medusa's head, and filled out a delivery slip from Hermes Overnight Express:

The Gods
Mount Olympus
600th Floor
Empire State Building
New York, NY

With best wishes,
PERCY JACKSON

              "They're not going to like that," Grover warned. "They'll think you're impertinent."

              Percy poured some golden drachmas into the pouch. As soon as he closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a small pop!

              "I am impertinent," said Percy.

              Josephine frowned. "You know what that word means?"

              Percy flushed. "Of course I do!"

              "Then, why would you want to be it?" asked Josephine.

              "Come on," Annabeth muttered before Percy could respond. "We need a new plan."

✿  OCT. 12TH, 2023  / this is a long one so get ready lol

and mentions of SA!!

i tried to write the medusa scene more of how i've known the story (medusa being a SA victim) but it wasn't turning out like i had hoped so i scraped it and went with how rick wrote it (which i of course have problems with)

also, idk how true this is but apparently the story of medusa being a SA victim wasn't how the greek originally wrote it- apparently that story came about when the romans conquered the greeks (idk know how true this all is so take it with a grain of salt)- apparently the original story was that medusa and her sisters were born gorgons, like no born human cursed shit, literally born gorgon, but idk how athena and poseidon would play into then (or if they do at all)

idk how true any of that is,, but i remember reading it,, not that it matters anymore since medusa has become sort of a symbol for SA victims- and not that i think it needs to change but i read it somewhere and thought it'd be interesting to share (if it is true of course)

that part of the rant over, i do have problems with how rick wrote this scene originally (i have many gripes with him- caleo, nico's forced coming out, the way he wrote HoO entirely, piper, jiper, the list goes on) and i wished i could've wrote it the way i had always heard medusa's story but it was just sounding horrible so i scraped it

MOVING ON- posie's powers??? so cool right?

well, in time will be cool- but that will take a long time

alsoalso, her and percy bonding <333 her and annabeth bonding <333

posie and annabeth are both neurodivergent- sorry, i don't make the rules

i mean, it just makes sense- posie didn't even realize her and annabeth were friends; that's so neurodivergent of her

anyways,, thoughts? opinions??