A 1

He did in fact have a club, which lay in the sand next to him, but it was more like an oversized
baseball bat—a five-foot-long polished cylinder of mahogany with a leather handgrip studded in
bronze. Coach Hedge would have been jealous.
Jason and Piper landed at the edge of the surf. They approached slowly, careful not to make any
threatening moves. Hercules watched them with no particular emotion, as if they were some form of
seabird he had never noticed before.
“Hello,” Piper said. Always a good start.
“What’s up?” Hercules said. His voice was deep but casual, very modern. He could’ve been
greeting them in the high school locker room.
“Uh, not much.” Piper winced. “Well, actually, a lot. I’m Piper. This is Jason. We—”
“Where’s your lion skin?” Jason interrupted.
Piper wanted to elbow him, but Hercules looked more amused than annoyed.
“It’s ninety degrees out here,” he said. “Why would I wear my lion skin? Do you wear a fur coat to
the beach?”
“I guess that makes sense.” Jason sounded disappointed. “It’s just that the pictures always show you
with a lion skin.”
Hercules glared at the sky accusingly, like he wanted to have words with his father, Zeus. “Don’t
believe everything you hear about me. Being famous isn’t as fun as you might think.”
“Tell me about it,” Piper sighed.
Hercules fixed those brilliant blue eyes on her. “Are you famous?”
“My dad…he’s in the movies.”