Annabeth looked disappointed, but she nodded.

 

"My dad wanted to take me to Greece this summer," she said wistfully. "I've

always wanted to see — "

 

"The Parthenon," I remembered.

 

She managed a smile. "Yeah."

 

"That's okay. There'll be other summers, right?"

 

As soon as I said it, I realized it was a boneheaded comment. I was facing the

end of my days. Within a week, Olympus might fall. If the Age of the Gods really

did end, the world as we knew it would dissolve into chaos. Demigods would be

hunted to extinction. There would be no more summers for us.

 

Annabeth stared at her inspection scroll. "Three out five," she muttered, "for a

sloppy head counselor.

 

Come on. Let's finish your reports and get back to Chiron."

 

On the way to the Big House, we read the last report, which was handwritten on a

maple leaf from a satyr in Canada. If possible, the note made me feel even

worse.