That really was NOT fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? NOT fun.

But... you're still getting married?" Grover sounded hurt. "Who's the bride?" Ploypemus looked toward the boiling pot. Clarisse made a strangled sound. "Oh, no! You can't be serious. I'm not-

Sometimes she teased me that she’d eventually catch up to me in age and be my older sibling. Looking at her now, with that determined glint in her eyes and the confidence in her voice, I could almost believe her

Alabaster, you told me earlier that heroes don't die. You may be right, but I can tell you one thing." Claymore looked the boy in the eyes. "I'm not a hero.

Purple light passed over the paper, but nothing happened. "Next!" Amy said. She was sure the man in black was going to burst in on them any second. "Whoa!" Dan said. Amy gripped his arm. "You found it?" "No, but look! This whole essay - 'To the Royal Academy.' He wrote a whole essay on farts!" Dan grinned with delight. "He's proposing a scientific study on different fart smells. You're right, Amy. This guy was a genius!

So, destroy?" Cal asked. Clearly, the conversation was giving his two brain cells a serious workout.

Doubtful, but it did work... "Annabeth?" Percy said again. "You're planning something. You've got that I'm-planning-something look." "I don't have an I'm-planning-something look." "Yeah, you totally do. Your eyebrows knit and your lips press together and ---" "Do you have a pen?" she asked him. "You're kidding, right?" He brought out Riptide. "Yes, but can you actually write with it?" "I--I don't know," he admitted. "Never tried.