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I kept lookout as Mr. Brunner undid his wheelchair. The blanket-covered fake human legs swung sideways like car door. He grasped his armrests and slowly pulled himself out of the chair, which was a magical storage space big enough to contain his true form. First the front legs of a horse emerged, then the full body of a magnificent stallion, until standing before me was the centaur Chiron, activities director of Camp Half-Blood, immortal trainer of heroes, his head nearly brushing the fluorescent light fixtures.
He clopped around the classroom, flicking his tail, shaking his back legs, and knocking the student desks out of alignment.
Nobody came down the hall. I’m not sure what I would have said if someone did.
Oh, hi, just lounging in the doorway of this classroom. Those clopping sounds? I don’t hear anything.
What bothered me more was the way Chiron limped on his back left leg.
I’d noticed it for the first time last summer, which makes me sound super inattentive, I know. In my defense: 1) every summer I’d attended Camp Half-Blood, I’d actually spent ninety percent of my timenotat camp, running around the world on quests, trying not to die. I’d never focused on how Chiron walked when he was in centaur form. Also, 2) I was, in fact, super inattentive.
Once I noticed the limp, I kind of fixated on it. It gradually occurred to me that the guy didn’t use his wheelchair just as a disguise. For him, walking was painful. Sometimes he needed a break. Once I spotted him with a leg brace. Another time I stumbled across him in the Apollo cabin, getting some herbal lotions to rub on his knee.
Finally, I’d asked Annabeth what the deal was. She’d looked at me like she wanted to whack me upside the head with a two-by-four piece of DUH.
“That was Hercules’s fault,” she said. “He wounded Chiron in the leg with a poisoned arrow.”
“Why?”
“It was an accident. He was aiming for another centaur.”
“Stupid Hercules,” I grumbled. “Wait, you mean this happened thousands of years ago, and it hasn’t healed yet?”
“Itcan’theal,” Annabeth said. “And I can’t believe you’re just noticing. Chiron is in agony every day of his eternal life. He does a good job hiding it, but the main thing that keeps him going is that he cares about us, the demigods he trains.”
Wow.
After that, I’d felt super guilty. Not once had it occurred to me that Chiron was in pain. I’d never asked him how he was feeling. I’d never sent him a card on Centaur Appreciation Day. I hadn’t told himThank you for putting up with menearly enough times. And after more than five years, I felt awkward saying anything at this point.
Chiron stretched his back leg one more time. He winced, gritting his teeth. “Yes. Much better, thank you.”
From his tone, I guessed it wasn’t much better. Chiron backed into his wheelchair, closed the fake-leg hatch, and once again he was Mr. Brunner, a mild-mannered substitute teacher with a tweed jacket and a half-eaten oat bagel.
He straightened his tie. “So, Percy, was there something I could help you with?”
On one hand, I felt bad dumping my problems on him. On the other hand, he looked like he was really interested in hearing them. Chiron had always been a good listener. Maybe he welcomed the distraction. I was nothing if not distracting.
I told him about Hecate and our little situation with her broken-down mansion and missing pets.
If my goal had been to make Chiron look even more pained, I succeeded beautifully.
“Oh, dear,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“And Hecate returns Friday night?”
I nodded. “How bad have we messed up?”
He drummed his fingers on his armrest. “Well…I’ve seen worse. When Sinon convinced the Trojans to let the wooden horse inside their gates, for instance, or when Salmoneus pretended to be Zeus and got his entire city destroyed.”
“Great.”
“At least Hecate won’t destroy all of New York. She owns property in Manhattan, so that borough’s probably safe.…”
I guess my expression must’ve been pretty dismal.
Chiron cleared his throat. “Let’s not dwell on worst-case scenarios. You say Annabeth and Grover are helping you.”
