My hand drifted toward the pocket of my jeans, where I kept my favorite weapon: a deadly ballpoint pen. This wouldn’t have been the first time I’d had to defend myself from an attack at school. You’d be amazed how many teachers, administrators, and other school staff are monsters in disguise. Or maybe you wouldn’t be amazed.
“Who are you?” I asked.
She sat up and smiled. “I told you. I’m Eudora.”
I studied her more closely. Her curled hair was in fact a bed of oysters. Her dress shimmered like a jellyfish membrane.
It’s weird how the Mist works. Even for demigods, who see supernatural stuff all the time, you have to concentrate to pierce the barrier between the human world and the godly one. Otherwise, the Mist just kind of plasters over what you see, making ogres look like pedestrians or a giant drakon look like the N train. （And believe me, it’s embarrassing trying to board a drakon when one rampages into the Astoria Boulevard station.）
“What did you do with the regular counselor?” I asked.
Eudora waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry about her. She couldn’t help you with New Rome. That’s why I’m here!”
Something about her tone made me feel . . . not reassured, exactly, but at least not personally threatened. Maybe she only ate other guidance counselors.
Her presence felt familiar, too—the salty tingle in my nostrils, the pressure in my ears as if I were a thousand feet underwater. I realized I’d encountered someone like her before, when I was twelve years old, at the bottom of the Mississippi River.
“You’re a sea spirit,” I said. “A Nereid.”
Eudora chuckled. “Yes, of course, Percy. Did you think I was a dryad?”
“So . . . my father sent you?”
She raised an eyebrow, as if she was starting to worry I might be a bit slow on the uptake. Weirdly, I get that look a lot.
“Yes, dear. Poseidon. Your father? My boss? Now, I’m sorry I can’t find a brochure, but I know you’ll need all the usual human requirements for New Rome University: test scores, official transcripts, and an up-to-date psychoeducational evaluation. Those aren’t a problem.”
“They aren’t?” After all I’d been through, it might’ve been too early to judge on that last one.
“But you’ll also need a few, ah, special entry requirements.”
The taste of salt water got sharper in my mouth. “What special requirements?”
“Has anyone talked to you about divine recommendation letters?” She looked like she really wanted the answer to be yes.
“No,” I said.
She fiddled with her jar of Jolly Ranchers. “I see. Well. You’ll need three letters. From three different gods. But I’m sure for a demigod of your talents—”
“What?”
Eudora flinched. “Or we could look at some backup schools. Ho-Ho-Kus Community College is very nice!”
“Are you kidding me?”
The Nereid’s face started to glisten. Rivulets of salt water trickled from her oyster-bed hair.
I felt bad about getting angry. This wasn’t her fault. I knew she was only trying to help me because my dad had ordered her to. Still, it wasn’t the kind of news I wanted to deal with on a Monday morning. Or ever.
I steadied my breathing. “Sorry. It’s just . . . I need to get into New Rome. I’ve done a lot of stuff for the gods over the years. Can’t I just, like, e-mail them a recommendation form . . . ?”
Eudora’s eyebrows knotted. Her dress was now sloughing off sheets of seawater. A pool of it spread across the green-tile floor, seeping ever closer to my textbooks.
I sighed. “Ugh. I have to do new quests, don’t I?”
“Well, dear, the college admissions process is always challenging, but I’m here to help—”
“How about this?” I said. “If my father really wants to help, maybe he should explain this to me himself, rather than sending you here to break the bad news.”
“Oh. Well, that would be, um—”
“Out of character,” I agreed.
Something buzzed in Eudora’s hairdo （shell-do?）， making her jump. I wondered if maybe she’d gotten an electric eel stuck in her oyster bed, but then she plucked out one of the shells. “Excuse me. I have to take this.”
She put the shell to her ear. “Hello? . . . Oh, yes, sir! I . . . Yes, I understand. Of course. Right away.”
She set the shell on the desk and stared at it, as if afraid it might ring again.