Percy Jackson and the Olympians: the lightning thief

We walked past gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at us like they were trying to figure if we were worth the trouble of mugging.

 

As we hurried passed the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you." Like an idiot, I stopped.

 

Before I knew it, we were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled us. Six of them in all—

 

white kids with expensive clothes and mean faces. Like the kids at Yancy Academy: rich brats playing at being bad boys.

 

Instinctively, I uncapped Riptide.

 

When the sword appeared out of nowhere, the kids backed off, but their leader was either really stupid or really brave, because he kept coming at me with a switchblade. I made the mistake of swinging.

 

The kid yelped. But he must've been one hundred percent mortal, because the blade passed harmlessly right through his chest. He looked down. "What the ..." I figured I had about three seconds before his shock turned to anger. "Run!" I screamed at Annabeth and Grover.

 

We pushed two kids out of the way and raced down the street, not knowing where we were going. We turned a sharp corner.

 

"There!" Annabeth shouted.

 

Only one store on the block looked open, its windows glaring with neon. The sign above the door said something like CRSTUY'S WATRE BDE ALPACE.

 

"Crusty's Water Bed Palace?" Grover translated.

 

It didn't sound like a place I'd ever go except in an emergency, but this definitely qualified. We burst through the doors, ran behind a water bed, and ducked. A split second later, the gang kids ran past outside.

 

"I think we lost them," Grover panted.

 

A voice behind us boomed, "Lost who?"

 

We all jumped.

 

Standing behind us was a guy who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was at least seven feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had gray, leathery skin, thick-lidded eyes, and a cold, reptilian smile. He moved toward us slowly, but I got the feeling he could move fast if he needed to.

 

His suit might've come from the Lotus Casino. It belonged back in the seventies, big-time. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest. The lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips. The silver chains around his neck—I couldn't even count them.

 

"I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile.

 

I resisted the urge to say, Yes, you are.

 

"Sorry to barge in," I told him. "We were just, um, browsing."

 

"You mean hiding from those no-good kids," he grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?" I was about to say No, thanks, when he put a huge paw on my shoulder and steered me deeper into the showroom.

 

There was every kind of water bed you could imagine: different kinds of wood, different patterns of sheets; queen-size, king-size, emperor-of-the-universe-size.

 

"This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, so it looked like oil-flavored Jell-O.

 

"Million-hand massage," Crusty told us. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, any-way.

 

"Um," I said, "I don't think ..."

 

"Million-hand massage!" Grover cried, and dove in. "Oh, you guys! This is cool."

 

"Hmm," Crusty said, stroking his leathery chin. "Almost, almost."

 

"Almost what?" I asked.

 

He looked at Annabeth. "Do me a favor and try this one over here, honey. Might fit." Annabeth said, "But what—"

 

He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and led her over to the Safari Deluxe model with teakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard-patterned comforter. When Annabeth didn't want to lie down, Crusty pushed her.

 

"Hey!" she protested.

 

Crusty snapped his fingers. "Ergo!"

 

Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around Annabeth, holding her to the mattress. Grover tried to get up, but ropes sprang from his black-satin bed, too, and lashed him down.

 

"N-not c-c-cool!" he yelled, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "N-not c-cool a-at all!"

 

The giant looked at Annabeth, then turned toward me and grinned. "Almost, darn it." I tried to step away, but his hand shot out and clamped around the back of my neck. "Whoa, kid. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec."

 

"Let my friends go."

 

"Oh, sure I will. But I got to make them fit, first."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit." Annabeth and Grover kept struggling.

 

"Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered. "Ergo!" A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds, wrapping around Grover and Annabeth's ankles, then around their armpits. The ropes started tightening, pulling my friends from both ends.

 

"Don't worry," Crusty told me, "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?"

 

"Percy!" Grover yelled.

 

My mind was racing. I knew I couldn't take on this giant water-bed salesman alone. He would snap my neck before I ever got my sword out.

 

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