I think anytime you're writing to the middle grades, you're writing to young readers who are trapped in a number of ways between two worlds: between childhood and adulthood, between their friends and their parents.

Your destiny grows clearer, Jason Grace. When the choice comes again- storm or fire- remember me. And do not despair.

The Death Mist is not for helping!" Akhlys shrieked. "It shrouds mortals in misery as their souls pass into the Underworld. It is the very breath of Tartarus, of death, of despair!" "Awesome," Percy said. "Could we get two orders of that to go?

Shut up, me" Leo said out loud. "What?" Piper asked. "Nothing," he said. "Long night. I think I'm hallucinating. It's cool.

So, great. This is Camp…what do you call it? Camp Fish-Blood?” Aphros frowned. “I hope that was a joke. This is Camp __________.” He made a sound that was a series of sonar pings and hisses.

Something inside me clicked, like an engine shifting into higher gear. My thinking suddenly became faster and clearer. The anger and fear didn't go away, but I realized they weren't important. They weren't going to help me.

You weren't able to talk sense into him?" Well, we kind of tried to kill each other in a duel to the death." I see. You tried the diplomatic approach.