I tried to talk to Annabeth, but she was acting like I'd just punched her grandmother.

I know you'll do what's best for Annabeth." "How can you be sure?" "Because she'd do the same for you.

"Anybody have money?" Frank checked his pockets. "Three denarii from Camp Jupiter. Five dollars Canadian." Hedge patted his gym shorts and pulled out what he found. "Three quarters, two dimes, a rubber band and - score! A piece of celery." He started munching on the celery, eyeing the change and the rubber band like they might be next.

Hope survives best at the hearth.

Different elevator music was playing since my last visit-that old disco song "Stayin' Alive." A terrifying image flashed through my mind of Apollo in bell-bottom pants and a slinky silk shirt.

What I did next was so impulsive and dangerous I should've been named ADHD poster child of the year.

Ptah? son of ptooey? What is he god of spitting? i asked