Trials of Apollo 5

found only a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, rumpled khakis,
oven mitts, and a pink dress shirt covered by a bright-yellow apron splattered
with tomato sauce. He was bouncing a giggly baby on his hip. The child’s
yellow onesie pajamas matched the man’s apron so perfectly, I wondered if
they’d come as a set.
I’m sure the chef and baby made for an adorable, heartwarming scene.
Unfortunately, I’d grown up on stories about Titans and gods who cooked
and/or ate their children, so I was perhaps not quite as charmed as I might
have been.
“There is a man in your apartment,” I informed Mrs. Jackson.
Sally laughed. “This is my husband, Paul. Excuse me a sec. I’ll be right
back.” She dashed toward the bathroom.
“Hi!” Paul smiled at us. “This is Estelle.”
Estelle giggled and drooled as if her own name was the funniest joke in
the universe. She had Percy’s sea-green eyes and clearly, her mother’s good
nature. She also had wisps of black and silver hair like Paul, which I had
never seen on a baby. She would be the world’s first salt-and-pepper toddler.
All in all, it seemed Estelle had inherited a good genetic package.
“Hello.” I wasn’t sure whether to address Paul, Estelle, or whatever was
cooking in the kitchen, which smelled delicious. “Er, not to be rude, but we
were hoping to— Oh, thanks, Mrs. Jackson.”
Sally had emerged from the bathroom and was now busily wrapping
Meg, Lu, and me in fluffy turquoise bath towels.
“We were hoping to see Percy,” I finished.
Estelle squealed with delight. She seemed to like the name Percy.
“I’d like to see him, too,” Sally said. “But he’s on his way to the West
Coast. With Annabeth. They left a few days ago.”
She pointed to a framed picture on the nearest end table. In the photo, my
old friends Percy and Annabeth sat side by side in the Jackson family’s
dented Prius, both of them smiling out the driver’s-side window. In the
backseat was our mutual satyr friend Grover Underwood, mugging for the
camera—eyes crossed, tongue stuck out sideways, hands flashing peace
signs. Annabeth leaned into Percy, her arms wrapped around his neck like
she was about to kiss him or possibly choke him. Behind the wheel, Percy
gave the camera a big thumbs-up. He seemed to be telling me directly, We’re
outta here! You have fun with your quests or whatever!
“He graduated high school,” Meg said, as if she’d witnessed a miracle.