The Hidden Oracle (The Trials of Apollo, #1)

by Rick Riordan

Zeus needed someone to blame, so of course he’d picked the handsomest, most talented, most popular god in the pantheon: me.

Zeus did not answer. He was probably too busy recording my humiliation to share on Snapchat.

“As you wish,” I said. “Let’s find Percy Jackson.”

She was fortunate to have met me. (I know that last statement seems obvious. Everyone who meets me is fortunate, but you take my meaning.)

Casa de Jackson No gold-plated throne for guests Seriously, dude?

“I understand,” I said with incredible generosity. “You will at least escort us to Camp Half-Blood?”

My belly was full. I had never been so happy. I had a strange desire to fire up an Xbox and play Call of Duty.

“Sure it is,” Percy said. “Some of the best demigods have gotten their start by blowing up toilets.”

Percy’s expression turned grim. He faced us. “You hear that, guys? A batch of cookies is depending on me. If you get me killed on the way to camp, I am going be ticked off.”

“At least we’re not being—” “Don’t say it,” Percy warned. Meg huffed. “You don’t know what I was going to—” “You were going to say, ‘At least we’re not being followed,’” Percy said. “That’ll jinx us. Immediately we’ll notice that we are being followed. Then we’ll end up in a big battle that totals my family car and probably destroys the whole freeway. Then we’ll have to run all the way to camp.”

I fight better near water.” “Because Poseidon?” Meg asked, steadying herself against the door handle. “Yep,” Percy agreed. “That pretty much describes my entire life: Because Poseidon.”

It warmed my heart that my children had the right priorities: their skills, their images, their views on YouTube.

Will put his hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Nico, we need to have another talk about your people skills.”

Chiron looked disheartened, as if my company alone wasn’t good enough. Can you imagine?

Will and Nico sat shoulder to shoulder, bantering good-naturedly. They were so cute together it made me feel desolate.

“Oh.” My spirits fell. I remembered Grover as being quite resourceful, but if he was dealing with California’s natural disasters, he was unlikely to be back anytime in the next decade.

We reduced a few mountains to rubble. We laid waste to a few city-states. You know how family arguments can get.

This left me alone to make my way back to the Me cabin.

Practice makes perfect Ha, ha, ha, I don’t think so Ignore my sobbing

Showers are good. Perhaps not as good as bacon, but good.

Will Solace sighed. He was, of course, tied to Nico. He propped his elbow on Nico’s shoulder as if the son of Hades were a convenient shelf.

Harley clapped for our attention. “Okay!” He bounced up and down eagerly, reminding me of the Roman children who used to cheer for executions at the Colosseum.

Not all monsters were three-ton reptiles with poisonous breath. Many wore human faces.

RACHEL ELIZABETH DARE was one of my favorite mortals. As soon as she’d become the Oracle two summers ago, she’d brought new vigor and excitement to the job. Of course, the previous Oracle had been a withered corpse, so perhaps the bar was low.

“I’m the sun god,” I said, trying to muster more confidence than I felt. “I always return at dawn.”

“The Christians called him the Beast because he burned them alive. Our enemy is Emperor Nero.”

“There are ants behind me, aren’t there?” I asked. Meg nodded.

“BACK, FOUL ANTS!” I yelled. “BRASIL!”

I looked at my handkerchief. “I’ll be Styxed. It does have magic power. I can never tell Paolo about this or he’ll be insufferable.”

“What’s going on?” Austin asked. “Also, where is my saxophone?”

good? Or perhaps Zeus was just messing with me again—giving me a taste of my old power before yanking it away once more. Remember this, kid? WELL, YOU CAN’T HAVE IT!

A third oak was giving its neighbor an infomercial sales pitch about a food processor. “And you won’t believe what it does with pasta!” “Wow!” said the other tree. “It makes pasta, too?” “Fresh linguine in minutes!” the sales oak enthused.

Also, just because she had lied about being my friend did not mean I wasn’t hers.

There once was a god named Apollo Who plunged in a cave blue and hollow Upon a three-seater The bronze fire-eater Was forced death and madness to swallow

I said. “We’re bound, whether you like it or not.” It occurred to me that she’d said the exact same thing to me only a few days before.

As we approached the Colossus, I bellowed loudly, “IMPOSTER! I AM THE REAL APOLLO! YOU’RE UGLY!” Oh, dear reader, it was hard to yell such words at my own handsome visage, but I did. Such was my courage.

Hades used to love sneaking up on me that way and yelling, “HI!” just as I shot an arrow of death. He found it amusing if I missed my target and accidentally wiped out the wrong city.

“But you’re an arrow,” I said. “Shooting you is the whole point.” (Ah, I really must watch those puns.)

“I believe,” I said, “the Colossus sneezed his head off.”