The Lost Hero Read Free Page A

didn’t know what Hedge was talking about, but the words gave him a massive brain freeze—like his mind was trying to access information that should’ve been there but wasn’t.
    He stumbled, and Coach Hedge caught him. For a short guy, the coach had hands like steel. “Whoa, there, cupcake. You say you got no memories, huh? Fine. I’ll just have to watch you, too, until the team gets here. We’ll let the director figure things out.”
    “What director?” Jason said. “What camp?”
    “Just sit tight. Reinforcements should be here soon. Hopefully nothing happens before—”
    Lightning crackled overhead. The wind picked up with a vengeance. Worksheets flew into the Grand Canyon, and the entire bridge shuddered. Kids screamed, stumbling and grabbing the rails.
    “I had to say something,” Hedge grumbled. He bellowed into his megaphone: “Everyone inside! The cow says moo! Off the skywalk!”
    “I thought you said this thing was stable!” Jason shouted over the wind.
    “Under normal circumstances,” Hedge agreed, “which these aren’t. Come on!”

T HE STORM CHURNED INTO A MINIATURE HURRICANE. Funnel clouds snaked toward the skywalk like the tendrils of a monster jellyfish.
    Kids screamed and ran for the building. The wind snatched away their notebooks, jackets, hats, and backpacks. Jason skidded across the slick floor.
    Leo lost his balance and almost toppled over the railing, but Jason grabbed his jacket and pulled him back.
    “Thanks, man!” Leo yelled.
    “Go, go, go!” said Coach Hedge.
    Piper and Dylan were holding the doors open, herding the other kids inside. Piper’s snowboarding jacket was flapping wildly, her dark hair all in her face. Jason thought she must’ve been freezing, but she looked calm and confident—telling the others it would be okay, encouraging them to keep moving.
    Jason, Leo, and Coach Hedge ran toward them, but it was like running through quicksand. The wind seemed to fight them, pushing them back.
    Dylan and Piper pushed one more kid inside, then lost their grip on the doors. They slammed shut, closing off the skywalk.
    Piper tugged at the handles. Inside, the kids pounded on the glass, but the doors seemed to be stuck.
    “Dylan, help!” Piper shouted.
    Dylan just stood there with an idiotic grin, his Cowboys jersey rippling in the wind, like he was suddenly enjoying the storm.
    “Sorry, Piper,” he said. “I’m done helping.”
    He flicked his wrist, and Piper flew backward, slamming into the doors and sliding to the skywalk deck.
    “Piper!” Jason tried to charge forward, but the wind was against him, and Coach Hedge pushed him back.
    “Coach,” Jason said, “let me go!”
    “Jason, Leo, stay behind me,” the coach ordered. “This is my fight. I should’ve known that was our monster.”
    “What?” Leo demanded. A rogue worksheet slapped him in the face, but he swatted it away. “What monster?”
    The coach’s cap blew off, and sticking up above his curly hair were two bumps—like the knots cartoon characters get when they’re bonked on the head. Coach Hedge lifted his baseball bat—but it wasn’t a regular bat anymore. Somehow it had changed into a crudely shaped tree-branch club, with twigs and leaves still attached.
    Dylan gave him that psycho happy smile. “Oh, come on, Coach . Let the boy attack me! After all, you’re getting too old for this. Isn’t that why they retired you to this stupid school? I’ve been on your team the entire season, and you didn’t even know. You’re losing your nose, grandpa.”
    The coach made an angry sound like an animal bleating. “That’s it, cupcake. You’re going down.”
    “You think you can protect three half-bloods at once, old man?” Dylan laughed. “Good luck.”
    Dylan pointed at Leo, and a funnel cloud materialized around him. Leo flew off the skywalk like he’d been tossed. Somehow he managed to twist in midair, and slammed sideways into the canyon wall. He skidded, clawing furiously for any