Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human. He wore a green rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knew two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff's "So Yesterday," both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes.

I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and realized my head was in Khufu’s lap. The baboon was foraging my scalp for munchies. “Dude.” I sat up groggily. “Not cool.” “But he gave you a lovely hairdo,” Sadie said. “Agh-agh!” Khufu agreed.

The meeting was like a war council with donuts. Then again, back at Camp Half-Blood they used to have their most serious discussions around the Ping-Pong table in the rec room with crackers and Cheez Whiz, so Percy felt right at home.

And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Percy?" "Bad?" I guessed. "Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus amd Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight." "Bad," I repeated.

One basketball to rule them all,” Leo muttered.

I can’t believe how much this place has grown,” Hazel muttered. The taxi driver grinned in the rearview mirror. “Been a long time since you visited, miss?” “About seventy years,” Hazel said. The driver slid the glass partition closed and drove on in silence.

Think positive girl, or the world ends.