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by
Rick Riordan
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October 11 - October 11, 2015
Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week.
“Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn’t faking being your friend,” he added hastily. “I am your friend.”
“Oh, nobody much,” Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. “Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions.”
They both looked down at me, and the girl said, “He’s the one. He must be.” “Silence, Annabeth,” the man said. “He’s still conscious. Bring him inside.”
“Grover,” Mr. D said impatiently, “are you playing or not?” “Yes, sir!” Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn’t know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.
“Mr. D,” Grover asked timidly, “if you’re not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?” “Eh? Oh, all right.”
“Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That’s what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they’ve come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron?
But I don’t believe in gods.” “Oh, you’d better,” Mr. D murmured. “Before one of them incinerates you.”
“You’re Dionysus,” I said. “The god of wine.” Mr. D rolled his eyes. “What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, ‘Well, duh!’?” “Y-yes, Mr. D.” “Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?”
“What?” I demanded. “What are you thinking?” “I’m thinking,” she said, “that I want you on my team for capture the flag.”
He’d even stolen me some toiletries, which was the nicest thing anybody had done for me all day.
“I told you. Athena always, always has a plan.”
“Poseidon,” said Chiron. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”
After lessons, she would walk away muttering to herself: “Quest…Poseidon?…Dirty rotten…Got to make a plan…”
“If I had my way,” Dionysus said, “I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We’d sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm.” “Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D,” Chiron put in.
“Er, Percy…?” Grover said. “We don’t use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky.”
“I’ve been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain,” she said. “Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you’re going to save the world, I’m the best person to keep you from messing up.” “If you do say so yourself,” I said. “I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?”
“Oh…why do I want to go anywhere with you, Percy?”
“Percy, that’s a gift from your father. I’ve kept it for years, not knowing you were who I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You are the one.”
“The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into,” Chiron told me. “Its name is Anaklusmos.” “‘Riptide,’” I translated, surprised the Ancient Greek came so easily.
“So far so good,” I told Annabeth. “Ten miles and not a single monster.” She gave me an irritated look. “It’s bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain.”
“Braccas meas vescimini!” I yelled. I wasn’t sure where the Latin came from. I think it meant “Eat my pants!”
In a way, it’s nice to know there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong.
Annabeth muttered to me, “Circus caravan?” “Always have a strategy, right?” “Your head is full of kelp.”
blinked. “Are you…talking to that thing?” The poodle growled. “This thing,” Grover warned, “is our ticket west. Be nice to him.” “You can talk to animals?” Grover ignored the question. “Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy.”
“I’m not saying hello to a pink poodle,” I said. “Forget it.” “Percy,” Annabeth said. “I said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle.” The poodle growled. I said hello to the poodle.
“How does Gladiola know about the reward?” I asked. “He read the signs,” Grover said. “Duh.” “Of course,” I said. “Silly me.”
Percy, take the sword. Your father believes in you.
I felt like drowning myself. The only problem: I was immune to drowning.
Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes.”
I imagined the headline: TWELVE-YEAR-OLD OUTLAW BEATS UP DEFENSELESS BIKER
“So if the gods fight,” I said, “will things line up the way they did with the Trojan War? Will it be Athena versus Poseidon?” She put her head against the backpack Ares had given us, and closed her eyes. “I don’t know what my mom will do. I just know I’ll fight next to you.” “Why?” “Because you’re my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?”
“I don’t know what my mom will do. I just know I’ll fight next to you.” “Why?” “Because you’re my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?”
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“No,” I said. “I’m dead.” Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. “You’re not dead. I should’ve known. You’re a godling.”
“Charon wants a pay raise,” I blurted, just remembering the fact. As soon as I said it, I wished I could sew up my mouth. “Don’t get me started on Charon!” Hades yelled.
“He’s a coward,” I told her. She swallowed. “Wear this, at least. For luck.” She took off her necklace, with her five years’ worth of camp beads and the ring from her father, and tied it around my neck.
“And take this,” Grover said. He handed me a flattened tin can that he’d probably been saving in his pocket for a thousand miles. “The satyrs stand behind you.” “Grover…I don’t know what to say.”
Ares has strength. That’s all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes.
Still…I am sorry you were born, child. I have brought you a hero’s fate, and a hero’s fate is never happy. It is never anything but tragic.”
“You did well, Perseus. Do not misunderstand me. Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are a true son of the Sea God.”
“Take care, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth told me. “Keep your eyes open.” “You too, Wise Girl.”
