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

1.6 unplanned dinner entertainment

1.6 Gods, Does it Come in Handy to Have Random Contacts You Can Call and Have Them Drop Everything at a Moment's Notice

"Allie, wake up."

Saltwater splashed my face as I forced my heavy eyelids to open. Luke was shaking my shoulder. Thank the gods, he seemed to be fully recovered from his injuries from the island.

In the distance, the sun was setting behind the Miami skyline. I could see a beachside highway lined with palm trees, storefronts glowing with red and blue neon, a harbor filled with sailboats and cruise ships.

"Do you know where we are, Sea Princess?" Clarisse asked.

"Miami," I said immediately. "Why are the hippocampi acting weird?"

"We don't know what's wrong with them. They started acting like that a few seconds ago," Luke filled me in.

Sure enough, our aquatic friends had slowed down and were whinnying and swimming in circles, sniffing the water. They didn't look happy. One of them sneezed. I could tell what they were thinking.

"This is as far as they'll take us," I explained, glancing around at my friends. "Too many humans. Too much pollution. We'll have to swim to shore on our own."

None of us were very happy about that, but we thanked Rainbow and his friends for the ride. Tyson cried a little. He unfastened the makeshift saddle pack he'd made, which contained his tool kit and a couple of other things he'd salvaged from the Birmingham wreck. He hugged Rainbow around the neck, gave him a soggy mango he'd picked up on the island, and said good-bye.

Once the hippocampi's white manes disappeared into the sea, we swam for shore. The waves pushed us forward, and in no time we were back in the mortal world. We wandered along the cruise line docks, pushing through crowds of people arriving for vacations. Porters bustled around with carts of luggage. Taxi drivers yelled at each other in Spanish and tried to cut in line for customers. If anybody noticed us— four kids dripping wet and looking like they'd just had a fight with a monster and another, completely dry (I forgot to force myself to get wet, alright) and had a long red carpet-worthy dress with matching hair and makeup on— they didn't let on.

Now that we were back among mortals, Tyson's single eye had blurred from the Mist. Grover had put on his cap and sneakers. Even the Fleece had transformed from sheepskin to a red-and-gold high school letterman jacket with a large glittery Omega on the pocket.

I grabbed the nearest newspaper from a box and checked the date on the Miami Herald. Then I swore viciously. "It's June eighteenth! We've been away from camp for ten days!"

"That's impossible!" Clarisse said.

But I knew it wasn't. Time often traveled differently in monstrous places.

"Thalia's tree must be almost dead," Grover wailed in despair. "We have to get the Fleece back tonight."

Clarisse slumped down on the pavement. "How are we supposed to do that?" Her voice trembled. "We're hundreds of miles away. No money. No ride. This is just like the Oracle said. We're so screwed—"

"Stop it!" I snapped, unable to listen to the terrible words. Images of Camp Half-Blood in flames, with the body of my friends strewing it, danced behind my eyelids. I blinked back tears and forced myself to try and figure out a plan to get the Fleece to Camp ASAP.

Clarisse put her head in hands and Luke punched a nearby wall in silent frustration. Another thought occurred to me: this was supposed to be Clarisse's quest. Luke and I shouldn't have even been there, technically.

I thought about what I'd overheard in the boiler room of the CSS Birmingham— Ares yelling at Clarisse, warning her that she'd better not fail. Ares couldn't care less about the camp, but if Clarisse made him look bad...