Page 74 of The Chalice of the Gods

“Maybe I should find Annabeth first,” I said hopefully. “Tell her what happened. Return her hat.”

“I can do that,” Grover said. “You get to class!”

That’s the advantage of having a friend who does not attend school—he can do things for you while you’re stuck in lectures. The disadvantage is that you have one less excuse for skipping those lectures.

I readjusted the cap for Annabeth’s size and handed it to Grover. Then I gave him another hug.

“Thanks for everything, G-man,” I said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Aww.” He blushed to the base of his horns. “Just make good grades! Otherwise... well, I’m sure you’ll do great.”

On that happy note, we headed in different directions—him downtown toward SODNYC, me to the subway for Queens.

I tried not to dwell on the fact that I was taking the F train to school. It seemed like a bad omen. Still, it felt weird being back in a mortal commute after my trip to Olympus. In the seat next to me, some guy was on his phone complaining about stock options. The lady across the aisle was rummaging through bags of produce, pulling out turnips and scowling at them. Meanwhile, up on Olympus, Zeus probably hadn’t even finished his llama story yet. I preferred hanging out with Stock Option Guy and Turnip Lady. They were more entertaining.

By the time I emerged in Queens and walked a half mile, I’d just about stopped shaking from my morning quest and instead had started shaking thinking about the unexcused tardy I’d have to explain.

Alternative High was right where I’d left it—on a tree-lined block of 37th Avenue between a used-car dealership and a wholesale store called (I kid you not) Hephaistos Building Supplies. I hadn’t had the courage to visit the store, though I wondered if they sold used bronze dragon parts.

The building itself looked like a deceptively average New York elementary school: a two-story wedge of red brick with white-trimmed windows and a bright blue main entrance. It wasn’t until you compared the signALTERNATIVE HIGH SCHOOLto the playground—which still had seesaws and paintings of Disney characters on the pavement—that you started to get a sense of disconnect.

I walked into the front office, ready to spill all kinds of wild stories. I was trying to decide betweenMy dog ate my shoesandMy alarm didn’t go off, which, given my state of mind, probably would have come out asHi, my dog didn’t go off, and I ate my alarm shoes.

Before I could say anything, the secretary looked up from a phone call. She practically beamed with delight. “Oh, Mr. Jackson! I’m talking to your father right now. He explained that you would be late.”

I blinked. “He did?”

She put her hand over the receiver. “What a lovely man! Here, you can tell him you arrived safely while I write you a pass to third period. We’ve already rescheduled your first-period quiz. Not to worry!”

She handed me the phone and floated back to her desk, humming a cheerful tune.

I stared at the receiver. Had Paul called the school? That didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t even know I was running late, and he was careful never to misrepresent himself as my father. But who else...? Surely not...?

“Hello?” I said.

“Congratulations,” said Poseidon. “That was nicely done with the chalice.”

I braced myself against the counter to keep from falling over. Hearing the god of the sea on a mortal landline was beyond strange. Usually, I heard his voice underwater, or echoing through the council chamber on Mount Olympus. On the phone, he sounded like Poseidon the same way I sounded like myself when I heard a recording of my own voice—which is to say, not at all.

“You called my school?” I asked.

I didn’t mean to sound rude. I was just in shock. How did Poseidon find the school’s number? How did he know what to say? How had he even learned to operate a phone? I pictured him in an air bubble, sitting poolside at the edge of the continental shelf, his line plugged straight into the undersea transatlantic cable. No wonder he had such a clear connection.

“It was the least I could do,” he said. “Margaret was very understanding.”

Margaret?I guessed that was the secretary. Grover was right: school secretaries reallydidknow everyone and everything. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Poseidon being on a first-name basis with her, though.

“Uh, thanks...Dad.” I said that last bit for Margaret’s benefit, since she was smiling at me as she wrote out my hall pass. She was probably thinking how lucky I was to have a father who was so active in my life.

“Can I ask...?” I lowered my voice as I cradled the receiver. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but why help me now? I mean... I’ve been in way worse situations before. Isn’t this pretty hands-on for a god?”

The line was silent for a count of three. Except for the faint gurgling sound of water in the background, I would’ve thought Poseidon had hung up.

“You know,” he said, “sometimes it’s the smallest waves that knock you off your feet. Tsunamis—everybody knows they’re powerful. Tidal waves—big and impressive. But those small waves? They hold a lot of power. They prove what the ocean is capable of, even when no one is paying attention.”

Margaret slid a hall pass across the counter. She smiled as if to say,This is all very nice and your dad sounds great, but I need my phone back now.

“Okay, Dad,” I said. “I understand.”

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