The Sea of Monsters

scheduled. We’d all figured they were history now that Tantalus was gone, but completing them did feel like the right thing to do, especially now that Chiron was back and the camp was safe.
    Tyson wasn’t too keen on the idea of getting back in a chariot after our first experience, but he was happy to let me team up with Annabeth. I would drive, Annabeth would defend, and Tyson would act as our pit crew. While I worked with the horses, Tyson fixed up Athena’s chariot and added a whole bunch of special modifications.
    We spent the next two days training like crazy. Annabeth and I agreed that if we won, the prize of no chores for the rest of the month would be split between our two cabins. Since Athena had more campers, they would get most of the time off, which was fine by me. I didn’t care about the prize. I just wanted to win.
    The night before the race, I stayed late at the stables.
    I was talking to our horses, giving them one final brushing, when somebody right behind me said, “Fine animals, horses. Wish I’d thought of them.”
    A middle-aged guy in a postal carrier outfit was leaning against the stable door. He was slim, with curly black hair under his white pith helmet, and he had a mailbag slung over his shoulder.
    “Hermes?” I stammered.
    “Hello, Percy. Didn’t recognize me without my jogging clothes?”
    “Uh . . .” I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to kneel or buy stamps from him or what. Then it occurred to me why he must be here. “Oh, listen, Lord Hermes, about Luke . . .”
    The god arched his eyebrows.
    “Uh, we saw him, all right,” I said, “but—”
    “You weren’t able to talk sense into him?”
    “Well, we kind of tried to kill each other in a duel to the death.”
    “I see. You tried the diplomatic approach.”
    “I’m really sorry. I mean, you gave us those awesome gifts and everything. And I know you wanted Luke to come back. But . . . he’s turned bad. Really bad. He said he feels like you abandoned him.”
    I waited for Hermes to get angry. I figured he’d turn me into a hamster or something, and I did not want to spend any more time as a rodent.
    Instead, he just sighed. “Do you ever feel your father abandoned you , Percy?”
    Oh, man.
    I wanted to say, “Only a few hundred times a day.” I hadn’t spoken to Poseidon since last summer. I’d never even been to his underwater palace. And then there was the whole thing with Tyson—no warning, no explanation. Just boom , you have a brother. You’d think that deserved a little heads-up phone call or something.
    The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I realized I did want recognition for the quest I’d completed, but not from the other campers. I wanted my dad to say something. To notice me.
    Hermes readjusted the mailbag on his shoulder. “Percy, the hardest part about being a god is that you must often act indirectly, especially when it comes to your own children. If we were to intervene every time our children had a problem . . . well, that would only create more problems and more resentment. But I believe if you give it some thought, you will see that Poseidon has been paying attention to you. He has answered your prayers. I can only hope that some day, Luke may realize the same about me. Whether you feel like you succeeded or not, you reminded Luke who he was. You spoke to him.”
    “I tried to kill him.”
    Hermes shrugged. “Families are messy. Immortal families are eternally messy. Sometimes the best we can do is to remind each other that we’re related, for better or worse . . . and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum.”
    It didn’t sound like much of a recipe for the perfect family. Then again, as I thought about my quest, I realized maybe Hermes was right. Poseidon had sent the hippocampi to help us. He’d given me powers over the sea that I’d never known about before. And there was Tyson. Had Poseidon brought us together on purpose? How many times had Tyson saved my life this summer?
    In the distance, the conch horn sounded, signaling curfew.
    “You should get to bed,” Hermes said. “I’ve helped you get into quite enough trouble this summer already. I really only came to make this delivery.”
    “A delivery?”
    “I am the messenger of the gods, Percy.” He took an electronic signature pad from his mailbag and handed it to me. “Sign there, please.”
    I picked up the stylus before realizing it was entwined with a pair of tiny green snakes.