I knew Dionysus must've filled it out, because he stubbornly insisted on getting my name wrong: Dear _______Peter Johnson__________.

With great power... comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later.

Gods tend to be selfish. Even when they're helpful, they always have their own motives. That's why you have to be careful about trusting them.

If I've got the powers of a god, then why am I so..." "Lame?" Sadie suggested. "Shut up," I said.

"Yeah, flattering." Percy raised Riptide. "But actually I'm the son of Poseidon. I'm from Camp Half-Blood."

So I took her hand, and I don't know what everybody else heard, but to me it sounded like a slow dance: a little sad, but maybe a little hopeful, too.

Sadie Kane here. If you're listening to this, congratulations, you survived doomsday.