THE BATTLE OF THE LABYRINTH Percy Jackson ... - No one's invited.

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We reached the amphitheater, and Dionysus pointed toward the campfire. Clarisse was sitting shoulder
to shoulder with a big Hispanic kid who was telling her a joke. It was Chris Rodriguez, the half-blood
who’d gone insane in the Labyrinth.
I turned to Dionysus. “You cured him?”
“Madness is my specialty. It was quite simple.”
“But…you did something nice. Why?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I am nice! I simply ooze niceness, Perry Johansson. Haven’t you noticed?”
“Uh—”
“Perhaps I felt grieved by my son’s death. Perhaps I thought this Chris boy deserved a second chance.
At any rate, it seems to have improved Clarisse’s mood.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
The wine god sighed. “Oh, Hades if I know. But remember, boy, that a kind act can sometimes be as
powerful as a sword. As a mortal, I was never a great fighter or athlete or poet. I only made wine. The
people in my village laughed at me. They said I would never amount to anything. Look at me now.
Sometimes small things can become very large indeed.”
He left me alone to think about that. And as I watched Clarisse and Chris singing a stupid campfire song
together, holding hands in the darkness, where they thought nobody could see them, I had to smile.
TWENTY
MY BIRTHDAY PARTY TAKES A DARK TURN
The rest of the summer seemed strange because it was so normal. The daily activities continued: archery,
rock climbing, Pegasus riding. We played capture the flag (though we all avoided Zeus’s Fist). We sang
at the campfire and raced chariots and played practical jokes on the other cabins. I spent a lot of time
with Tyson, playing with Mrs. O’Leary, but she would still howl at night when she got lonely for her old
master. Annabeth and I pretty much skirted around each other. I was glad to be with her, but it also kind
of hurt, and it hurt when I wasn’t with her, too.
I wanted to talk to her about Kronos, but I couldn’t do that anymore without bringing up Luke. And that
was one subject I couldn’t raise. She would shut me out every time I tried.
July passed, with fireworks on the beach on the Fourth. August turned so hot the strawberries started
baking in the fields. Finally, the last day of camp arrived. The standard form letter appeared on my bed
after breakfast, warning me that the cleaning harpies would devour me if I stayed past noon.
At ten o’clock I stood on the top of Half-Blood Hill, waiting for the camp van that would take me into
the city. I’d made arrangements to leave Mrs. O’Leary at camp, where Chiron promised she’d be