Page 24 of The Chalice of the Gods

Annabeth “helped” (full sarcastic air quotes) by warbling all the words half a beat behind me. This is how you know you’ve found true love: when your significant other is just as bad at singing as you are.

I got to the chorus and yelled, “This one’s for you, Hebe!”

(I’d also like to point out that when I typedchorusjust now, it initially autocorrected tocurse, which seems right.)

“... hurt you,” I muttered. “Cry. Jealous. Oh, yeah!”

Our chick friend Li’l Killer scurried under the corner booth to hide. She peeked out at me with an offended look as if she was thinking,I’m two days old and I could sing better than that.

By the second verse, Annabeth was getting into it. She threw her arm around me and belted out that she, too, was just a jealous guy. Her enthusiasm improved the song by negative five percent.

Finally, as we launched into the second chorus/curse, a whirlwind of glitter and prize tickets materialized in the middle of the dance floor. Hebe appeared, her fingers wedged in her ears. “Stop it! Stop it, already!”

The karaoke machine died. Li’l Killer disappeared back under the booth. The doors stopped shaking as the army of chickens ceased its assault.

“O great and extremely young Hebe!” I said. “We are so sorry—”

“Especially Percy,” Annabeth said.

“I am ninety percent of the sorry!” I agreed. “Please forgive us!”

Hebe glared. “If that song was supposed to be an apology, you should direct it to John Lennon.”

“Please, grant us sanctuary from your wrathful hens!” Grover called from the doors.

“And please return us to our proper ages!” Annabeth said.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Hebe T’ed her hands in a time-out sign. “First you desecrate my karaoke machine, then you barrage me with requests? Why should I return you to your former ages?”

“Because...” I faltered. “Because you are generous and good, and also super young.”

“We are petitioners at your altar,” Annabeth said.

“Your holiest of holy karaoke stages!” Grover said. “Most sacred of disco boogie venues!”

Hebe stared at him.

“Too much?” Grover asked. “All we want is to leave here in peace, at our normal ages—so we can spread the word about the wonders and terrors of Hebe Jeebies!”

“And with a little information about the chalice of the gods, please,” I said.

Annabeth kicked me in the shin, but it was too late.

Hebe bared her teeth. “There it is again. That insolence. That slander. Perhaps I did not send you far enough back into your childhood.”

“Forgive him!” Annabeth cried. I noticed her gaze kept drifting to the corner booth where Li’l Killer was hiding. But if she was waiting for the chick to launch a sneak attack on the goddess, I didn’t like our chances.

“We would never try torun out the clockon you!” Annabeth added.

That last part was meant for me. Even at eight years old, even being not the sharpest ballpoint pen in the box, I could tell that much. Annabeth was stalling for time. But why?

“It’s true!” I said. “Clocks are bad!”

Hebe’s hairdo seemed to be curling tighter, as if forming a protective helmet against traumatic injuries like listening to us talk. Was it my imagination, or was she also getting shorter?

“You are spouting nonsense,” she said.

“Exactly,” Annabeth agreed. “He does that a lot! That’s why you must forgive him.”

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