Trials of Apollo 5

I WISHED WE COULD HAVE HAD REGULAR small talk around the
dinner table: the weather, who liked whom at school, which gods were
casting plagues on which cities and why. But no, it was always about who
was trying to kill me.
I didn’t want to ruin anyone’s appetite, especially since Paul’s savory
family-recipe lasagna was making me drool like Estelle. Also, I wasn’t sure I
trusted Luguselwa enough to share our whole story.
Meg had no such qualms. She opened up about everything we’d been
through—with the exception of the tragic deaths. I was sure she only skipped
those to spare Sally and Paul from worrying too much about Percy.
I don’t think I’d ever heard Meg talk as much as she did at Sally and
Paul’s dinner table, as if the presence of kindly parental figures had uncorked
something inside her.
Meg told them of our battles with Commodus and Caligula. She
explained how we had freed four ancient Oracles and had now returned to
New York to face the last and most powerful emperor, Nero. Paul and Sally
listened intently, interrupting only to express concern or sympathy. When
Sally looked at me and said, “You poor dear,” I almost lost it again. I wanted
to cry on her shoulder. I wanted Paul to dress me in a yellow onesie and rock