Chapter 3: Chapter 3
"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 café 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 spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.
I tried to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times,
"Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I was so mad my mind went
blank. A wave roared in my ears.
I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was
sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"
Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.
Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"
"—the water—"
"—like it grabbed her—"
I didn't know what they were talking about. All I knew was that I was in
trouble again.
As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to
get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on
me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if I'd done something she'd
been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"
"I know," I grumbled. "A month erasing workbooks."
That wasn't the right thing to say.
"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said.
"Wait!" Grover yelped. "It was me. I pushed her."
I stared at him, stunned. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for me.
Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.
She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.
"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.
"But—"
"You—will—stay—here."
Grover looked at me desperately.
"It's okay, man," I told him. "Thanks for trying."
"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked at me. "Now."
Nancy Bobofit smirked. I gave her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare.
Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me
to come on.
How'd she get there so fast?
I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something,
and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out
of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school
counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting
things.
I wasn't so sure.
I went after Mrs. Dodds.
Halfway up the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He was looking pale,
cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to
notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel.
I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside
the building, at the end of the entrance hall.
Okay, I thought. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the
gift shop.
But apparently that wasn't the plan.
I followed her deeper into the museum. When I finally caught up to her,
we were back in the Greek and Roman section.
Except for us, the gallery was empty.
Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of
the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.
Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone
with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked
at the frieze, as if she wanted to pulverize it…
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