Page 12 of The Chalice of the Gods

“That’ll make it hard to question them,” Annabeth said. “Any idea where these goddesses hang out?”

I was bracing myself for him to say the North Pole or Outer Mongolia. If I had to take a leave of absence to go questing across the world, the college recommendation letters wouldn’t matter. I’d never graduate high school.

“They stay close to Mount Olympus,” he said to my relief. “I mean Manhattan. They should be around here somewhere.” He waved vaguely, as if the whole of Manhattan couldn’t possibly be too difficult to search. “Do this for me, Percy Jackson, and I will write you a letter!”

It didn’t sound like much of a reward. Then again, usually gods just asked for things and promised nothing in return. Kind of like that bratty kid inThe Giving Tree.

(Speaking of which,nevergive that book to a satyr for his birthday, thinking he might like it because it’s about a tree. That satyr will cry, and then he will hit you. I speak from experience.)

“This recommendation letter will bepositive?” I checked. “And you’ll actually sign it?”

Ganymede frowned. “You drive a hard bargain, but very well! Now, away with you, before I am undone!”

He disappeared in a glittering cloud of dust. As usual with magical happenings, the mortals around us didn’t seem to notice anything. Or maybe they just figured he had found the perfect smoothie and ascended to himbo enlightenment.

“Well.” I sipped my Salty Sailor and scanned my companions’ faces for any sign of regret. “This should be fun. Any ideas where to start?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Grover. “But let me finish my drink first. We’re going to need our strength.”

Here’s a challenge: try to do a full day of school (actually, that could be the whole challenge by itself), and then, afterward, go on a quest to find a goddess, knowing that when you get home,ifyou get home, you’ll still have a couple of hours of math and science homework to do.

I was feeling pretty salty as we headed downtown, and it had nothing to do with my Salty Sailor.

Grover brought us straight to Times Square—the noisiest, most crowded, most tourist-infested part of Manhattan. I tried to avoid Times Square as much as possible, which naturally meant I just kept getting sucked into it, usually to battle a monster, talk to a god, or hang from a billboard in my boxer shorts. (Long story.)

Grover stopped at a storefront I would have passed right by. For half a block, all the windows were covered in foil. Usually, that means the place is either out of business or super shady. Then I looked up at the enormous electronic sign above the entrance. I might have walked by it a dozen times before, but I’d never paid it any attention. In Times Square, all the flashy jumbo screens kind of blend together.

“No way,” I said.

Annabeth shook her head. “Shereallynamed her place Hebe Jeebies?”

“Afraid so,” Grover sighed.

“And how did you know about this place?” I asked.

His cheeks flushed. “They have great licorice ropes. You can’t pass by without smelling them!”

I couldn’t see anything through the windows. I definitely didn’t smell anything. Then again, I don’t have a satyr’s nose for licorice. It’s kind of like catnip for goat guys.

“It’s a candy store, then?” Annabeth asked.

“No, more like...” Grover tilted his head. “Actually, it’s easier to show you.”

I wasn’t sure traipsing into a goddess’s lair was the best idea, but Grover pushed through the doors and we followed. Because licorice, I guess.

Inside... well, imagine all the cheesiest entertainment centers from the 1990s got together and had a food baby. That was Hebe Jeebies.

Rows of Skee-Ball machines stood ready for action. A dozenDance Dance Revolutionplatforms blinked and flashed, inviting us to boogie. Aisles with every arcade game I’d ever heard of, and dozens that I hadn’t, lined the vast, dimly lit warehouse, making the whole place a glowing labyrinth. (Andlabyrinthis a word I never use lightly.)

In the distance, I spotted a candy station with fill-your-own-bag dispensers and huge bins of colorful sweet stuff. On the other side of the warehouse were a cafeteria with picnic tables and a stage where robotic iguanas played musical instruments.

There was a ball pit the size of a house, a climbing structure that looked like a giant hamster habitat, a bumper-car course, and a ticket-exchange station with oversize stuffed animals for prizes.

The whole place smelled of pizza, pretzels, and industrial cleaner. And it waspackedwith families.

“I get it now,” said Annabeth, shivering. “This placedoesgive me the heebie-jeebies.”

“I’ve been here a few times.” Grover’s expression was a combination of anxiety and hunger... which, come to think of it, was his usual expression. “I’ve never found the other end of the place.”

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