Annabeth surveyed the teenagers around her.
Two Greeks, two Scots, two Italians, two French, two Canadians, two Irish and two Spanish.
She ushered them towards the escalator, feeling for the key in her pocket. She looked for the keyhole out of habit, even though she had memorised where it was years ago.
Elvis Presley started blasting from the speakers as soon as the doors closed.
"Return to sender, address unknown ..." Malcolm was singing.
The Spanish boy with curly hair was humming something, his fingers tapping on his knees. Three long taps, three short taps, three long taps. S.O.S. Save our souls.
Annabeth was glad when the elevator ride was over because, honestly, sixteen ADHD teenagers ,that don't all speak the same language, stuck in one lift is not fun. It's hot and stuffy and cramped and incredibly hard to understand anything that anyone is saying.
"Where are we?" The Greek girl asked.
It was Malcolm that replied, "Olympus, the home of the gods."
"That's all well and good but why're we here?" The Scottish lad asked.
"To see the gods, of course."
YOU ARE READING
United
أدب الهواةWhat if the demigods weren't all from America? What if the gods brought together the demigods of different countries to help them in war? What if they were United?
