Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Chalice of the Gods

“I was stubborn,” I said. “So this means I’ll be here when the baby comes. That’s awesome. I’ll have a few months before . . .”

My smile finally faded. If all went well and I got into school with Annabeth, I would be leaving for California during the summer. That meant I’d miss so much with the new baby. I wanted to hear the kid’s first laugh, see their first steps. I wanted to play peekaboo and teach the little rug rat to make rude noises and eat blue baby food.

“Hey,” my mom said, “you will be here for the delivery. And you can come home from California as often as you want. But you also need to stick to your plans. They are excellent plans!”

“Yeah, of course,” I said.

“Besides,” she said with a mischievous smile, “we’re going to need your bedroom for the baby.”

I was in a fog for the rest of dinner. I was still floating, partly from happiness . . . partly from a feeling like I’d been cut free from my moorings and was now drifting away. I was thrilled for my mom and Paul. Absolutely. I couldn’t believe they were going to have a kid I could watch grow up. That baby was going to be so lucky.

But also, it made my own departure seem even more real. I would be leaving just as my mom and Paul were starting a new chapter. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. . . .

I did remember to compliment Annabeth on her cupcakes. They were really good: buttery and sugary, the icing a little too thick . . . just the way I like them.

She and I did the dishes together. By the time I walked her down the street to the subway, it was growing dark.

“I’m glad you were okay with the news,” she said. I hadn’t realized until that moment how relieved she was.

“You were thinking about your stepbrothers,” I guessed.

The arrival of those babies had meant the beginning of the end for Annabeth’s relationship with her dad. At least, at the time. She’d run away from home shortly afterward, feeling forgotten and unwanted.

She kissed me. “You’re not in the same place as I was, thank the gods. You’re going to be a great big brother.”

A warm flush of joy washed through me again. “You think?”

“ ’Course. And I can’t wait to see you learn how to change diapers.”

“Hey, I cleaned Geryon’s stables of flesh-eating horses. How bad can baby diapers be?”

She laughed. “In April or May, I’m going to remind you that you said that. You’re going to be begging to leave for college then.”

“I dunno,” I said. “I mean . . . to be with you, sure. It’s just . . .”

She nodded. “I know. Families are hard. Long-distance families are even harder.”

That was something we both understood.

She squeezed my hand. “See you Monday, bright and early.”

And she headed down the steps of the station.

At least I have Annabeth, I thought. We would stay together. Assuming, of course, we solved this whole chalice issue. Otherwise, I’d be stuck in New York, and I’d have a whole lot more diaper changing to look forward to. At that moment, though, both options felt okay. . . . I could make either one work.

Multiple positive outcomes?

Wow. There was a first time for everything.





School waits for no one.

That’s a famous quote from somebody, I think. And it’s true. Friday morning came whether I wanted it to or not. I was still sore from the fight with Elisson. My brain felt like it had been turned inside out from my mom’s news. I hadn’t studied enough for my science quiz, by which I mean I hadn’t studied at all.

On top of all that, I got a PA announcement in third period telling me to report to the guidance office, and I was not in the mood to be flushed.

“Percy!” said Eudora as I walked in. She sounded suspiciously glad to see me, or maybe she was just surprised that I was still alive. “Please, sit!”

I had a plan. If she tried to flush me again, I would command the water to lift me toward the ceiling. Then I would steal her jar of Jolly Ranchers and run back to class, laughing maniacally.

“So!” She laced her fingers and beamed at me. “How is everything?”

“Everything is a lot,” I said.

I told her about my mom having a baby. Eudora seemed delighted, until I explained it was a human baby, not one with Poseidon.

“Oh, I see.” She shrugged. “Well, that’s nice, too, I suppose. And your classwork?”

“Um . . .”

“And the recommendation letters?”

I brought her up to speed. I told her we would be going Monday morning to search Washington Square Park, and I emphasized that there was no need to flush me there.

“Hmm . . .” She looked at Sicky Frog as if it might want to weigh in. “And what exactly are you searching for in Washington Square Park?”

“Ganymede’s chalice,” I said. “We think it was taken by someone named Gary.”

She paled, like sand when you step on it and all the water is pushed away. “You know, it’s not too late to consider community colleges. Did I mention Ho-Ho-Kus? I have a brochure here somewhere.”

“Hold up—”

“You could get an associate’s degree in mechanical engineering—”

“Eudora.”

“Or accounting—”

“New Rome University,” I said. “Remember? That’s the goal. Why are you suddenly steering me away? And please don’t tell me Gary runs a yoga class.”

She shifted in her seat. “No, no. And it’s not so much steering you away. It’s more . . . wanting you to stay alive.”

I glared at her, doing my best to channel my dad’s Unhappy Sea God look. “I’m going to need more than that. You’re my guidance counselor, so guide me. Who is Gary?”

“You know—I just remembered—I have a thing. . . .”

A green whirlpool surged up around her. The curtain of water collapsed, splattering kelp across the floor, and Eudora was gone. I glanced at Sicky Frog and wondered how bad this Gary had to be to get a Nereid to flush herself out of a conversation. Sicky Frog had no answers. I grabbed a big handful of Jolly Ranchers and headed back to class.

Lunch was no better. I sat down with my bag lunch—a leftover lasagna sandwich with a leftover cupcake—and I was just starting to feel like maybe I could relax for a few minutes when I heard the ominous tinkling sound of someone filling my thermos.

“Hi, Ganymede,” I said.

He sat down across from me, his glass pitcher sweaty with condensation. The liquid inside was orange today—maybe Olympian beverage number six? He was dressed in the same chiton and sandals as before, but he looked more worn with worry. . . . Not older, exactly. Gods don’t get older. But his eyes were ichor-shot with golden veins. His face had an unhealthy sheen, as if he were about to burst into his fiery divine form and vaporize the entire student body into piles of powdered drink mix.

“Please tell me you have news,” he said.

It’s hard to tell a story and eat a lasagna sandwich at the same time. So I prioritized the sandwich. I nodded and ate, watching Ganymede get more and more agitated. I wasn’t sure how he’d take the news. If he vaporized me, I wanted to have eaten a good last meal.

“So,” I said, moving on to the cupcake, “we think the guy who stole your chalice is hanging out in Washington Square Park.”

I told him what we knew, and how we planned to find the thief.

“Nectar,” Ganymede murmured. “That’s good. That could work.”

“Any idea who this Gary could be?” I asked. “You have any enemies by that name?”

He shook his head. “I have so many enemies. Some of them could be named Gary. I don’t know.”

He sounded so miserable I wanted to assure him everything would be okay, but I wasn’t sure I should promise that. If I were a god, and somebody told me my precious chalice was in Washington Square Park, I would zap down there in a cloud of righteous fury and start busting heads and turning out people’s pockets.