She was beautiful in combat. I know that’s a crazy thing to say, especially after we’d just climbed a sewage waterfall, but her gray eyes sparkled when she was fighting for her life. Her face shone like a goddess’s, and believe me, I’ve seen goddesses. The way her Camp Half-Blood beads rested against her throat—Okay, sorry. Got a little distracted.

Does truth have a moral?

The images from the book you make in your head are always going to be the best images.

So which way now, Sacagawea?" - Annabeth to Rachel

"Cool" Leo said. "I always wanted a sister who could beat me up."

I'm calm," Rachel insisted. "Every time I'm around you, some monsters attack us. What's to be nervous about?" "Look," I said. "I'm sorry about the band room. I hope they didn't kick you our or anything." "Nah. They asked me a lot of questions about you. I played dumb." "Was it hard?" Annabeth asked.

In case you're wondering, the underside of a sheep doesn't smell that great. Imagine a winter sweater that's been dragged through the mud and left in the laundry hamper for a week. Something like that.