I pictured my mom, alone in our little apartment on the Upper East Side. I tried to remember the smell of her blue waffles in the kitchen. It seemed so far away.

He was the class clown, the court jester, because he'd learn early that if you cracked jokes and pretended you weren't scared, you usually didn't get beat up. Even the baddest gangster kids would tolerate you, keep you around for laughs. Plus, humor was a good way to hide the pain

Dreams like a podcast, Downloading truth in my ears. They tell me cool stuff." "Apollo?" I guess, because I figured nobody else could make a haiku that bad. He put his finger to his lips. "I'm incognito. Call me Fred." "A god named Fred?

Annabeth came up to me. She was dressed in black camouflage with her Celestial bronze knife strapped to her arm and her laptop bag slung over her shoulder—ready for stabbing or surfing the Internet, whichever came first.

Good luck, boss. Don't let'em turn you into horse meat! (Blackjack)

The demigods have left for alaska," Stheno said. "They fly straight to their death. Ah, small "d" death, I mean. Not our prisoner Death. Although, i suppose they're flying to him too.

Even from far away, I could see people being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, forced to run naked through cactus patches or listen to opera music.