the_blood_of_olympus_-_rick_riordan

The hum of the ship’s engines changed to a lower pitch. Over the cabin loudspeaker, Festus’s voice
creaked and squeaked.
‘Yeah, thanks, buddy,’ Leo said. ‘On my way.’
The ship was descending, which meant Leo’s projects would have to wait.
‘Sit tight, Sunshine,’ he told Calypso’s picture. ‘I’ll get back to you, just like I promised.’
Leo could imagine her response: I am not waiting for you, Leo Valdez. I am not in love with you.
And I certainly don’t believe your foolish promises!
The thought made him smile. He slipped his keys back into his tool belt and headed for the mess
hall.
The other six demigods were eating breakfast.
Once upon a time, Leo would have worried about all of them being together belowdecks with
nobody at the helm, but ever since Piper had permanently woken up Festus with her charmspeak – a
feat Leo still did not understand – the dragon figurehead had been more than capable of running the
Argo II by himself. Festus could navigate, check the radar, make a blueberry smoothie and spew
white-hot jets of fire at invaders – simultaneously – without even blowing a circuit.
Besides, they had Buford the Wonder Table as backup.
After Coach Hedge left on his shadow-travel expedition, Leo had decided that his three-legged
table could do just as good a job as their ‘adult chaperone’. He had laminated Buford’s tabletop with
a magic scroll that projected a pint-sized holographic simulation of Coach Hedge. Mini-Hedge would
stomp around on Buford’s top, randomly saying things like ‘CUT THAT OUT!’ ‘I’M GONNA KILL
YOU!’ and the ever-popular ‘PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!’
Today, Buford was manning the helm. If Festus’s flames didn’t scare away the monsters, Buford’s
holographic Hedge definitely would.
Leo stood in the doorway of the mess hall, taking in the scene around the dining table. It wasn’t
often he got to see all his friends together.
Percy was eating a huge stack of blue pancakes (what was his deal with blue food?) while
Annabeth chided him for pouring on too much syrup.
‘You’re drowning them!’ she complained.
‘Hey, I’m a Poseidon kid,’ he said. ‘I can’t drown. And neither can my pancakes.’
To their left, Frank and Hazel used their cereal bowls to flatten out a map of Greece. They looked
over it, their heads close together. Every once in a while Frank’s hand would cover Hazel’s, just
sweet and natural like they were an old married couple, and Hazel didn’t even look flustered, which
was real progress for a girl from the 1940s. Until recently, if somebody said gosh darn, she would
nearly faint.
At the head of the table, Jason sat uncomfortably with his T-shirt rolled up to his ribcage as Nurse
Piper changed his bandages.
‘Hold still,’ she said. ‘I know it hurts.’
‘It’s just cold,’ he said.
Leo could hear the pain in his voice. That stupid gladius blade had pierced him all the way