I thought for a second. Then I took off my coat. “Percy,” Grover said. “Are you sure? That lion skin…that’s really helpful. Hercules used it!” As soon as he said that, I realized something. I glanced at Zoë, who was watching me carefully. I realized I did know who Zoë’s hero had been—the one who’d ruined her life, gotten her kicked out of her family, and never even mentioned how she’d helped him: Hercules, a hero I’d admired all my life. “If I’m going to survive,” I said, “it won’t be because I’ve got a lion-skin cloak. I’m not Hercules.”
