The Titan's Curse
goddess. I will not go across country and fight many dangers in the company of a boy.”
    “What about Grover?” I demanded.
    Zoë shook her head. “He does not count. He’s a satyr. He is not technically a boy.”
    “Hey!” Grover protested.
    “I have to go,” I said. “I need to be on this quest.”
    “Why?” Zoë asked. “Because of thy friend Annabeth?”
    I felt myself blushing. I hated that everyone was looking at me. “No! I mean, partly. I just feel like I’m supposed to go!”
    Nobody rose to my defense. Mr. D looked bored, still reading his magazine. Silena, the Stoll brothers, and Beckendorf were staring at the table. Bianca gave me a look of pity.
    “No,” Zoë said flatly. “I insist upon this. I will take a satyr if I must, but not a male hero.”
    Chiron sighed. “The quest is for Artemis. The Hunters should be allowed to approve their companions.”
    My ears were ringing as I sat down. I knew Grover and some of the others were looking at me sympathetically, but I couldn’t meet their eyes. I just sat there as Chiron concluded the council.
    “So be it,” he said. “Thalia and Grover will accompany Zoë, Bianca, and Phoebe. You shall leave at first light. And may the gods”—he glanced at Dionysus—“present company included, we hope—be with you.”
    I didn’t show up for dinner that night, which was a mistake, because Chiron and Grover came looking for me.
    “Percy, I’m so sorry!” Grover said, sitting next to me on the bunk. “I didn’t know they’d—that you’d—Honest!”
    He started to sniffle, and I figured if I didn’t cheer him up he’d either start bawling or chewing up my mattress. He tends to eat household objects whenever he gets upset.
    “It’s okay,” I lied. “Really. It’s fine.”
    Grover’s lower lip trembled. “I wasn’t even thinking . . . I was so focused on helping Artemis. But I promise, I’ll look everywhere for Annabeth. If I can find her, I will.”
    I nodded and tried to ignore the big crater that was opening in my chest.
    “Grover,” Chiron said, “perhaps you’d let me have a word with Percy?”
    “Sure,” he sniffled.
    Chiron waited.
    “Oh,” Grover said. “You mean alone. Sure, Chiron.” He looked at me miserably. “See? Nobody needs a goat.”
    He trotted out the door, blowing his nose on his sleeve.
    Chiron sighed and knelt on his horse legs. “Percy, I don’t pretend to understand prophecies.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “Well, maybe that’s because they don’t make any sense.”
    Chiron gazed at the saltwater spring gurgling in the corner of the room. “Thalia would not have been my first choice to go on this quest. She’s too impetuous. She acts without thinking. She is too sure of herself.”
    “Would you have chosen me?”
    “Frankly, no,” he said. “You and Thalia are much alike.”
    “Thanks a lot.”
    He smiled. “The difference is that you are less sure of yourself than Thalia. That could be good or bad. But one thing I can say: both of you together would be a dangerous thing.”
    “We could handle it.”
    “The way you handled it at the creek tonight?”
    I didn’t answer. He’d nailed me.
    “Perhaps it is for the best,” Chiron mused. “You can go home to your mother for the holidays. If we need you, we can call.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.”
    I pulled Riptide out of my pocket and set it on my nightstand. It didn’t seem that I’d be using it for anything but writing Christmas cards.
    When he saw the pen, Chiron grimaced. “It’s no wonder Zoë doesn’t want you along, I suppose. Not while you’re carrying that particular weapon.”
    I didn’t understand what he meant. Then I remembered something he’d told me a long time ago, when he first gave me the magic sword: It has a long and tragic history, which we need not go into.
    I wanted to ask him about that, but then he pulled a golden drachma from his saddlebag and tossed it to me. “Call your mother, Percy. Let her know

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