Notes

My mom made blue waffles and blue eggs for breakfast. She’s funny that way, celebrating special occasions with blue food. I think it’s her way of saying anything is possible. Percy can pass seventh grade. Waffles can be blue. Little miracles like that.
The sky was clear and starry. I was checking out the constellations Annabeth had taught me-Sagittarius, Hercules, Corona Borealis-when somebody said, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“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.”