a story as endless as the ocean . pjo / allie jackson

0.6 decisions, decisions

0.6 A Decision that Concerns the Fate of the World is Once Again Placed in the Palm of My Hands

The way Tantalus saw it, the Stymphalian birds had simply been minding their own business in the woods and would not have attacked if Luke, Tyson, and I hadn't disturbed them with our bad chariot driving.

It was so completely unfair, especially because neither Tyson nor I drove a chariot, so I told him what my mind had immediately thought.

"Oh, go chase a fucking donut, asshole."

That didn't seem to help his mood.

He sentenced us to kitchen patrol— scrubbing pots and platters all afternoon in the underground kitchen with the cleaning harpies. The harpies washed with lava instead of water, to get that extra-clean sparkle and kill ninety-nine point nine percent of all germs, so Luke and I had to wear asbestos gloves and aprons.

Tyson didn't mind. He plunged his bare hands right in and started scrubbing, but Luke and I had to suffer through hours of hot, dangerous work, especially since there were tons of extra plates. Tantalus had ordered a special luncheon banquet to celebrate Clarisse's chariot victory— a full-course meal featuring country-fried Stymphalian death-bird.

The only good thing about our punishment was that it gave Luke and me lots of time to talk.

"If he's really found it," he murmured after listening to my explanation of my dream again. "And if we could retrieve it—"

"Hold on," I said. "You act like this... whatever-it-is Grover found is the only thing in the world that could save camp. What is it?"

"You know this, Angel," he insisted. "What do you think of when you think of sheep?"

"How completely uncomfortable 100% fleece sweaters are," I replied seriously.

He rolled his eyes, grinning at my biting humor. "Seriously, Angel," he pressed. "What story do you think of?"

I huffed, dried another plate, put it on the rack, and ran through my mental list of Greek Tales That Will Probably Come Back to Bite Me In The Ass One Way or Another.

"Jason and the Argonauts," I finally guessed. "You seriously think that Grover's found the Golden Fleece, and that it can save Thalia's tree?"

Luke nodded, a hint of desperation in his bright eyes. "It's our only chance," he insisted. "And Grover's, too." Then he paused before continuing reluctantly. "But still, it's all very convenient. What if it's a trap?"

I bit my lip, but then I shrugged. "Then we spring it," I replied briskly. "Saving the Camp and Grover, that's what's important."

Luke glanced at Tyson, who'd lost interest in our conversation and was happily making toy boats out of cups and spoons in the lava.

"Angel," he muttered to me softly. "We'll have to fight a Cyclops. Polyphemus, the worst of the Cyclopes. And there's only one place his island could be. The Sea of Monsters."

"Sea of Monsters. Right, where is that, by the way?"

He gave me a fondly exasperated look. "We covered that, you know," he pointed out, making me shrug indifferently. Surely he knew better than to expect me to pay attention to geography? He rolled his eyes. "Formerly in the Mediterranean, now in the Bermuda Triangle. Remember now?"

"Nope," I replied. "But okay, to the Bermuda Triangle, then. Good thing I'm a daughter of the Sea God, huh?"

He frowned thoughtfully, crossing his arms. "Tantalus will never let us go," he mused. "We need to figure out how to force him to issue a quest."