Number eight, the silver one, belongs to Artemis. She vowed to be a maiden forever. So of course, no kids. The cabin is, you know, honorary. If she didn't have one, she'd be mad.

Ever had a flying burrito hit you? Well, it's a deadly projectile, right up there with cannonballs and grenades.

Your lifeline...oh, the burning stick. Right." Leo resisted the urge to set his hand ablaze and yell: BWAH HA HA!

Am I a troubled kid? Yeah, you could say that.

Annabeth pressed her lips to Percy’s ear. “I love you.” She wasn’t sure he could hear her—but if they died, she wanted those to be her last words.

Leo had wanted to paint a giant message on the bottom of the hull-WASSUP? with a smiley-face-but Annabeth had vetoed the idea.

Luke gazed at Annabeth. "You knew. I almost killed you, but you knew . . ." "Shhh." Her voice trembled. "You were a hero at the end, Luke.