The Sea of Monsters

never mind. Listen, just refer him to Eris in customer service. I gotta go.”
    He hung up. “Sorry. The overnight express business is just booming. Now, as I was saying—”
    “You have snakes on your phone.”
    “What? Oh, they don’t bite. Say hello, George and Martha.”
    Hello, George and Martha, a raspy male voice said inside my head.
    Don’t be sarcastic , said a female voice.
    Why not? George demanded. I do all the real work .
    “Oh, let’s not go into that again!” The jogger slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Now, where were we . . . Ah, yes. Peace and quiet.”
    He crossed his ankles and stared up at the stars. “Been a long time since I’ve gotten to relax. Ever since the telegraph—rush, rush, rush. Do you have a favorite constellation, Percy?”
    I was still kind of wondering about the little green snakes he’d shoved into his jogging shorts, but I said, “Uh, I like Hercules.”
    “Why?”
    “Well . . . because he had rotten luck. Even worse than mine. It makes me feel better.”
    The jogger chuckled. “Not because he was strong and famous and all that?”
    “No.”
    “You’re an interesting young man. And so, what now?”
    I knew immediately what he was asking. What did I intend to do about the Fleece?
    Before I could answer, Martha the snake’s muffled voice came from his pocket: I have Demeter on line two.
    “Not now,” the jogger said. “Tell her to leave a message.”
    She’s not going to like that. The last time you put her off, all the flowers in the floral delivery division wilted.
    “Just tell her I’m in a meeting!” The jogger rolled his eyes. “Sorry again, Percy. You were saying . . .”
    “Um . . . who are you, exactly?”
    “Haven’t you guessed by now, a smart boy like you?”
    Show him! Martha pleaded. I haven’t been full-size for months.
    Don’t listen to her! George said. She just wants to show off!
    The man took out his phone again. “Original form, please.”
    The phone glowed a brilliant blue. It stretched into a three-foot-long wooden staff with dove wings sprouting out the top. George and Martha, now full-sized green snakes, coiled together around the middle. It was a caduceus, the symbol of Cabin Eleven.
    My throat tightened. I realized who the jogger reminded me of with his elfish features, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. . . .
    “You’re Luke’s father,” I said. “Hermes.”
    The god pursed his lips. He stuck his caduceus in the sand like an umbrella pole. “‘Luke’s father.’Normally, that’s not the first way people introduce me. God of thieves, yes. God of messengers and travelers, if they wish to be kind.”
    God of thieves works, George said.
    Oh, don’t mind George. Martha flicked her tongue at me. He’s just bitter because Hermes likes me best.
    He does not!
    Does too!
    “Behave, you two,” Hermes warned, “or I’ll turn you back into a cell phone and set you on vibrate! Now, Percy, you still haven’t answered my question. What do you intend to do about the quest?”
    “I—I don’t have permission to go.”
    “No, indeed. Will that stop you?”
    “I want to go. I have to save Grover.”
    Hermes smiled. “I knew a boy once . . . oh, younger than you by far. A mere baby, really.”
    Here we go again, George said. Always talking about himself.
    Quiet! Martha snapped. Do you want to get set on vibrate?
    Hermes ignored them. “One night, when this boy’s mother wasn’t watching, he sneaked out of their cave and stole some cattle that belonged to Apollo.”
    “Did he get blasted to tiny pieces?” I asked.
    “Hmm . . . no. Actually, everything turned out quite well. To make up for his theft, the boy gave Apollo an instrument he’d invented—a lyre. Apollo was so enchanted with the music that he forgot all about being angry.”
    “So what’s the moral?”
    “The moral?” Hermes asked. “Goodness, you act like it’s a fable. It’s a true story. Does truth have a moral?”
    “Um . . .”
    “How about this: stealing is not always bad?”
    “I don’t think my mom would like that moral.”
    Rats are delicious , suggested George.
    What does that have to do with the story? Martha demanded.
    Nothing, George said. But I’m hungry.
    “I’ve got it,” Hermes said. “Young people don’t always do what they’re told, but if they can pull it off and do something wonderful, sometimes they escape punishment. How’s that?”
    “You’re saying I should go anyway,” I said, “even without