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“That’s... nice of you,” Grover tried. But from the slight tremor in his voice, I could tell he was not liking this place anymore, no matter how good the licorice ropes were.

Hebe crossed her go-go boots at the ankles. She placed her arms across the back of the booth. With her smug expression, she reminded me more of a Mafia boss than a 1960s teenager.

“Is that why you’re here, then?” she asked. “You want to know the secret of youth? I imagine none of you really had a childhood, did you? Always running errands for the gods, fleeing monsters,adulting.”

Her expression soured, as if that word disgusted her.

“Our Skee-Ball tournament usually shaves off a year or two,” she continued. “Or you can redeem tickets for various elixirs at the rewards station. I’ll just warn you that if you’re looking for something extreme, I don’t turn anyone into babies. They do nothing but cry, poop, and throw up. The real childhood magic starts at around eight years old.”

Annabeth shifted in her seat. “There were no infants in the arcade. No one younger than, like, eight. Your manager, Sparky—”

“Stays in the main arcade,” Hebe said. “I amalwaysthe youngest person in any room, you see, even if it’s just by a few months. I can’t stand to be out-younged.” She brushed away the idea, banishing it from her presence. “But I do prefer the teenage years.”

“So you hang out in a karaoke bar,” I said. “Makes sense.”

She nodded. I made a mental note not to fight her with sarcasm. She was obviously immune.

“Now,” she said, “if you’ll tell me how young you want to be, I will tell you what it will cost.”

“No,” I said.

Suddenly the air around us felt colder and oilier than the pizza.

“No?” asked the goddess.

“That’s not why we’re here.”

Hebe’s expression turned from smug to “resting goddess face,” which was not a good thing.

“Then why,” she asked, “are you wasting my infinite time?”

“We’re looking for information,” Annabeth said.

“About the gods,” Grover added. “Agod. Hypothetically. I don’t know... Ganymede, for example?”

I was tempted to shove a napkin dispenser in Grover’s mouth, but it was too late.

Hebe sat forward. Her fingernails were painted Day-Glo yellow. “Now why would you ask about him?”

The boomers finished their song. After a few high fives, they replaced their mics and shuffled offstage, heading back to the arcade. Typical boomer timing: have a blast, then leave right before everything goes sideways.

Grover squirmed under the goddess’s gaze. A shred of napkin clung to his goatee like a tiny ghost. “We’re just conducting a brief opinion survey—”

“He sent you here,” the goddess guessed. The longer she sat with us, the younger she looked. If I’d seen her at AHS, I would’ve pegged her for a sophomore or even a freshman—a very colorful, vindictive-looking freshman. “Tell me, why would Ganymede do that?”

Annabeth held up her hands, trying to show our peaceful intentions. “It’s not so much that he sent us—”

“Hehasbeen acting nervous lately,” mused Hebe. “But he wouldn’t send out a group of heroes unless...” She smiled. “Unless he’s lost something. Oh, you can’t be serious. He’s lost the chalice of the gods?”

She laughed with such delight, I started to relax. If she found this funny, maybe that was good. I liked delighted goddesses a lot more than angry ones.

I shrugged. “Well, we can neither confirm nor deny—”

“How wonderful!” She giggled. “That upstart little witch is insomuch trouble! And he sent you to question me because...?”

All the humor drained from her face. “Oh, I see.”

“We just wanted some background information,” I said hastily. “You know, like who might have a reason to, uh—”