The Hidden Oracle (The Trials of Apollo #1)(9)

“Last I saw you,” Percy said, “Zeus was chewing you out at the Acropolis. Then bam—he vaporized you. Nobody’s seen or heard from you for six months.”

I tried to recall, but my memories of godhood were getting fuzzier rather than clearer. What had happened in the last six months? Had I been in some kind of stasis? Had Zeus taken that long to decide what to do with me? Perhaps there was a reason he’d waited until this moment to hurl me to earth.

Father’s voice still rang in my ears: Your fault. Your punishment. My shame felt fresh and raw, as if the conversation had just happened, but I could not be sure.

After being alive for so many millennia, I had trouble keeping track of time even in the best of circumstances. I would hear a song on Spotify and think, “Oh, that’s new!” Then I’d realize it was Mozart’s Piano Concerto no. 20 in D Minor from two hundred years ago. Or I’d wonder why Herodotus the historian wasn’t in my contacts list. Then I’d remember Herodotus didn’t have a smartphone, because he had been dead since the Iron Age.

It’s very irritating how quickly you mortals die.

“I—I don’t know where I’ve been,” I admitted. “I have some memory gaps.”

Percy winced. “I hate memory gaps. Last year I lost an entire semester thanks to Hera.”

“Ah, yes.” I couldn’t quite remember what Percy Jackson was talking about. During the war with Gaea, I had been focused mostly on my own fabulous exploits. But I suppose he and his friends had undergone a few minor hardships.

“Well, never fear,” I said. “There are always new opportunities to win fame! That’s why I’ve come to you for help!”

He gave me that confusing expression again: as if he wanted to kick me, when I was sure he must be struggling to contain his gratitude.

“Look, man—”

“Would you please refrain from calling me man?” I asked. “It is a painful reminder that I am a man.”

“Okay…Apollo, I’m fine with driving you and Meg to camp if that’s what you want. I never turn away a demigod who needs help—”

“Wonderful! Do you have something besides the Prius? A Maserati, perhaps? I’d settle for a Lamborghini.”

“But,” Percy continued, “I can’t get involved in another Big Prophecy or whatever. I’ve made promises.”

I stared at him, not quite comprehending. “Promises?”

Percy laced his fingers. They were long and nimble. He would have made an excellent musician. “I lost most of my junior year because of the war with Gaea. I’ve spent this entire fall playing catch-up with my classes. If I want to go to college with Annabeth next fall, I have to stay out of trouble and get my diploma.”

“Annabeth.” I tried to place the name. “She’s the blond scary one?”

“That’s her. I promised her specifically that I wouldn’t get myself killed while she’s gone.”

“Gone?”

Percy waved vaguely toward the north. “She’s in Boston for a few weeks. Some family emergency. The point is—”

“You’re saying you cannot offer me your undivided service to restore me to my throne?”

“Um…yeah.” He pointed at the bedroom doorway. “Besides, my mom’s pregnant. I’m going to have a baby sister. I’d like to be around to get to know her.”

“Well, I understand that. I remember when Artemis was born—”

“Aren’t you twins?”

“I’ve always regarded her as my little sister.”

Percy’s mouth twitched. “Anyway, my mom’s got that going on, and her first novel is going to be published this spring as well, so I’d like to stay alive long enough to—”

“Wonderful!” I said. “Remind her to burn the proper sacrifices. Calliope is quite touchy when novelists forget to thank her.”

“Okay. But what I’m saying…I can’t go off on another world-stomping quest. I can’t do that to my family.”

Percy glanced toward his window. On the sill was a potted plant with delicate silver leaves—possibly moonlace. “I’ve already given my mom enough heart attacks for one lifetime. She’s just about forgiven me for disappearing last year, but I swore to her and Paul that I wouldn’t do anything like that again.”

“Paul?”

“My stepdad. He’s at a teacher in-service today. He’s a good guy.”

“I see.” In truth, I didn’t see. I wanted to get back to talking about my problems. I was impatient with Percy for turning the conversation to himself. Sadly, I have found this sort of self-centeredness common among demigods.

“You do understand that I must find a way to return to Olympus,” I said. “This will probably involve many harrowing trials with a high chance of death. Can you turn down such glory?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can. Sorry.”

I pursed my lips. It always disappointed me when mortals put themselves first and failed to see the big picture—the importance of putting me first—but I had to remind myself that this young man had helped me out on many previous occasions. He had earned my goodwill.

“I understand,” I said with incredible generosity. “You will at least escort us to Camp Half-Blood?”