Thalia nearly crashes the sun car

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Basorexia (n

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Basorexia (n.)
The overwhelming desire to kiss





Thalia was infact not a natural on which Lord Apollo had assumed.

"Sorry!" Thalia screamed, "I've got it under control!"

Percy managedto his feet after being thrown into Grover. Looking out the window, I saw a smoking ring of trees
from the clearing where we'd taken off.

shist, I cursed to myself.

"Thalia," Perct started, "lighten up on the accelerator." He advised.

"I've got it, Percy," she nearly screamed through her gritted teeth. But she kept it floored.

"Loosen up," He instructed her.

"I'm loose!" Thalia said. She was so stiff she looked like she was made out of plywood.

"We need to veer south for Long Island," Apollo instructed. "Hang a left."

Thalia jerked the wheel and again threw Percy into Grover, who yelped in pain.

I grabbed Nico to make sure he didn't fly off to. I ignored the warm feeling when we touched.

"The other left," Apollo suggested.

Percy made the mistake of looking out the window again. We were at airplane height now—so high the sky
was starting to look almost as black as the shadows his mother casted.

"Ah…" Apollo said, and I got the feeling he was forcing himself to sound calm. "A little lower,
sweetheart. Cape Cod is freezing over."

It sounded weird hearing 'sweetheart' be said to her, she most definitely wasn't a sweetheart.

Thalia tilted the wheel. Her face was as white as snow, her forehead beaded with sweat. Something was
definitely wrong. I'd never seen her like this.

The bus pitched down and somebody screamed. Maybe it was Percy, probably, but now we were heading straight toward the Atlantic Ocean at a thousand miles an hour, the New England coastline off to our right. And it was getting hot in the bus.

 Apollo had been thrown somewhere in the back of the bus, but he started climbing up the rows of seats.

"Take the wheel!" Grover all but begged him.

"No worries," Apollo chided. He looked plenty worried, the paleness of his face said it all. "She just has to learn to—WHOA!"

I saw what he was seeing. Down below us was a little snow-covered New England town. At least, it
used to be snow-covered. As I watched, the snow melted off the trees and the roofs and the lawns.

The white steeple on a church turned brown and started to smolder. Little plumes of smoke, like birthday
candles, were popping up all over the town. Trees and rooftops were catching fire.

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