The Son of Neptune

June chuckled. “All roads lead there, child. You should know that.”

“Detention?” Percy asked.

He imagined holding hands with Annabeth at a café. Maybe when they were older, watching their own kid chase seagulls across the forum…

Annabeth’s face, her blond hair and gray eyes, the way she laughed, threw her arms around him, and gave him a kiss whenever he did something stupid.

She must have kissed me a lot, Percy thought.

Gods of Olympus, she’s beautiful, Frank thought

“These were on my pillow this morning.” He passed them to Percy. “Like the Tooth Fairy visited.”
The book was The Art of War by Sun Tzu. Percy had never heard of it, but he could guess who sent it. The letter read: Good job, kid. A real man’s best weapon is his mind. This was your mom’s favorite book. Give it a read. P.S.—I hope your friend Percy has learned some respect for me.
“Wow.” Percy handed back the book. “Maybe Mars is different than Ares. I don’t think Ares can read.”

The last few weeks he’d been so worried about surviving day to day. The idea of living long enough to be an adult and have kids of his own—that seemed like an impossible dream.

“The stairs!” Frank yelled. “No way this horse can pull a chariot up that many flights of—OH MY GODS!”

“Are you kidding?” Percy said. “You think I’d leave my team behind? After surviving Fleecy’s wheat germ, running from cannibals, and hiding under blue giant butts in Alaska? Come on!”

“Wow.” Percy handed back the book. “Maybe Mars is different than Ares. I don’t think Ares can read.”

“Can Arion even pull that much?”

Arion huffed.

“Hazel,” Percy said, “I am seriously going to wash your horse’s mouth with soap. He says, yes, he can pull it, but he needs food.”