Another guy barked orders to a small army of brooms, mops, and buckets that were scuttling around, cleaning up the city. "Like that cartoon," Sadie said. "Where Mickey Mouse tries to do magic and the brooms keep splitting and toting water." "'The Sorcerer's Apprentice,'" Zia said. "You do know that was based on an Egyptian story, don't you?

Cacus.” I’d had years of practice looking dumb when people threw out Greek names I didn’t know. It’s a skill of mine. Annabeth keeps telling me to read a book of Greek myths, but I don’t see the need. It’s easier just to have folks explain stuff.

I think I write for reluctant readers. Of course I want everyone to enjoy my books, but if the kids in the back row who normally don't pick up a book are engaged with what I'm writing, along with the kids who are big readers anyway, then I really feel like I've done my job.

Zia turned toward us, her expression grim. “I will show you to your quarters. In the morning, your testing begins. We will see what magic you know, and how you know it.” I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but I exchanged an uneasy look with Sadie. “Sounds fun,” Sadie ventured. “And it we fail this test?” Zia regarded her coldly. “This is not the sort of test you fail, Sadie Kane. You pass or you die.

She’s pretty,” Zethes mumbled. “I mean, she’s right.

You can’t control every contingency. You have to accept that. Let it scare you. Trust that it’ll be okay anyway.

Why would Roman gods want to date Chinese Canadians?