You Titans Are About As Bright As

It Was Like Percy Had Faced Death Before, Like He Knew About Grief. What Mattered Was Listening. You Didn’t Need To Say You Were Sorry. The Only Thing That Helped Was Moving On—moving Forward.

Writing Is Like A Sport. If You Don't Practice, You Don't Get Any Better.

I Sat Up In Bed. "what Did He Say?" Tyson Groaned, Still Half Asleep. He Was Lying Facedown On The Couch, His Feet So Far Over The Edge They Were In The Bathroom. "the Happy Man Said...bowling Practice?" I Hoped He Was Right, But Then There Was An Urgent Knock On The Suite's Interior Door. Annabeth Stuck Her Head In--her Blonde Hair In A Rat's Nest. "disembowling Practice?

My Face Felt Like My Normal Face, As If That Part Of Me Hadn’t Transformed Into A Bird. [fine, Sadie. Call Me The Carter-headed Chicken. Happy?]

So Beckendorf Was Pretty Popular?" Leo Asked. "i Mean-before He Blew Up?