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You know how teachers tell you the magic word is please? That’s not true. The magic word is puke. It will get you out of class faster than anything else.
It was hard for anyone to look cute in combat armor, but Annabeth pulled it off.
“If I was going to pick one person in the world to reattach my head,” I said, “I’d pick you.”
Its head creaked as it looked down at me. It seemed more confused than angry, like, Why did you cut off my toe?
“Did she just . . . ask me out?”
The guy has a lot going for him. He’s courageous. He’s got a sense of humor. He’s good-looking, but don’t you dare tell him I said that.
I get misty-eyed every time I play it. So does Percy, but I think that’s because he’s laughing at me.
Our English teacher, Dr. Boring (I’m not kidding; that’s his real name),
“He’s handy with zombie crowds,” Thalia admitted. “Think I’ll take him along next time I go to the mall.”
“Iapetus shall crush you!” one shouted. “Who?” I asked. Then I ran her through with my sword. Note to self: If you vaporize monsters, they can’t answer your questions.
“Give me the potted plant.
I tried to think about positive things: my favorite basketball players, my last conversation with Annabeth,
They weren’t thrilled about lugging Bob the Titan too, but I didn’t have the heart to leave him behind, especially after he noticed my shoulder wound, said, “Owie,” and healed it with a touch.
