the_blood_of_olympus_-_rick_riordan

xxxiii
Leo
TYPICAL.
Just as Leo finished his modifications, a big storm goddess came along and smacked the grommets
right out of his ship.
After their encounter with Kymopo-what’s-her-name, the Argo II limped through the Aegean, too
damaged to fly, too slow to outrun monsters. They fought hungry sea serpents about every hour. They
attracted schools of curious fish. At one point they got stuck on a rock, and Percy and Jason had to get
out and push.
The wheezing sound of the engine made Leo want to cry. Over the course of three long days, he
finally got the ship more or less back to working order just as they made port at the island of
Mykonos, which probably meant it was time for them to get bashed to pieces again.
Percy and Annabeth went ashore to scout while Leo stayed on the quarterdeck, fine-tuning the
control console. He was so engrossed in the wiring that he didn’t notice the landing party was back
until Percy said, ‘Hey, man. Gelato.’
Instantly, Leo’s day got better. The whole crew sat on deck, without a storm or a monster attack to
worry about for the first time in days, and ate ice cream. Well, except for Frank, who was lactose
intolerant. He got an apple.
The day was hot and windy. The sea glittered with chop, but Leo had fixed the stabilizers well
enough that Hazel didn’t look too seasick.
Curving off to their starboard side was the town of Mykonos – a collection of white stucco
buildings with blue roofs, blue windows and blue doors.
‘We saw these pelicans walking around town,’ Percy reported. ‘Like, just going through the shops,
stopping at the bars.’
Hazel frowned. ‘Monsters in disguise?’
‘No,’ Annabeth said, laughing, ‘just regular old pelicans. They’re the town mascots or something.
And there’s a “Little Italy” section of town. That’s why the gelato is so good.’
‘Europe is messed up.’ Leo shook his head. ‘First we go to Rome for Spanish steps. Then we go to
Greece for Italian ice cream.’
But he couldn’t argue with the gelato. He ate his double chocolate delight and tried to imagine that
he and his friends were just chilling on a vacation. Which made him wish Calypso was with him,
which made him wish the war was over and everybody was alive … which made him sad. It was 30
July. Less than forty-eight hours until G-Day, when Gaia, the Princess of Potty Sludge, would awaken
in all her dirt-faced glory.