He’d run into a dead-end courtyard full of shops. Grover dashed around a street corner and faltered.
I couldn’t see what was chasing him, but I could hear it muttering and cursing. He muttered to himself, Have to get away. It swatted aside a street lamp, which burst in a shower of sparks. Behind Grover, at the far end of the block, a shadowy figure loomed. He was trying to get away from … something.Ī bone-rattling growl cut through the storm. Grover was terrified of something behind him. The wind bent the palm trees almost to the ground. He clopped past the little tourist shops and surfboard rental places. He’d gone on this adventure with me and a girl named Annabeth to save the world, but I hadn’t seen him since last July, when he set off alone on a dangerous quest-a quest no satyr had ever returned from.Īnyway, in my dream, Grover was hauling goat tail, holding his human shoes in his hands the way he does when he needs to move fast. Grover had been my best friend in sixth grade. Baggy jeans and fake feet hide the fact that he’s got furry hindquarters and hooves. He walks with a strange limp, but unless you happen to catch him without his pants on (which I don’t recommend), you’d never know there was anything un-human about him. From the waist up, he looks like a typical gangly teenager with a peach-fuzz goatee and a bad case of acne. I turned and saw my friend Grover running for his life. Then I heard hooves clattering against the pavement. A block away, past a line of hibiscus bushes, the ocean churned.įlorida, I thought. Pink and yellow stucco buildings lined the street, their windows boarded up. Wind and rain ripped at the palm trees along the sidewalk. It was the middle of the night.Ī storm was blowing. I was standing on a deserted street in some little beach town. Chapter One: My Best Friend Shops For A Wedding Dress
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