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I wasn’t about to tell her Arachnean silk, because Annabeth had a major spider phobia. I didn’t want to have to peel her off the chandelier.

“Maybe we should help Percy get it written now,” Paul said, “so he doesn’t have to worry about it.”

“Spoken like a true English teacher,” Annabeth said. “It can’t be that hard, right? How about, ‘I highly recommend Percy Jackson for New Rome University. He is adorable and has nice eyes.’ ”

“I am not saying that. Delete, delete,” I complained, though I did keep the first sentence. That one sounded okay.

“ ‘And his mother is very proud of him,’ ” my mom chipped in, “ ‘though college would be a wonderful experience, as it might teach him to do his own laundry.’ ”

“You’re all terrible people,” I said. “Delete, delete.”

Paul cleared his throat, like he was getting ready to launch into a lecture on similes. “ ‘I, Ganymede, cupbearer to the gods, have found Percy Jackson to be an excellent hero—brave, kind, and fantastic at chopping vegetables.’ ”

My mom and Annabeth were both giggling.

I wanted to sayJust kill me now,but with my luck, those words would stick on the letter and the admissions office at New Rome would make me fall on my sword the moment I arrived.

I dictated Paul’s sentence, minus the vegetables. For the next half an hour, Paul, Annabeth, and my mom offered all sorts of unhelpful suggestions for Ganymede’s letter, while I picked out the least embarrassing lines and read them onto the paper. I even managed to get a line in there about how helpful my counselor, Eudora, had been.

By the end, Annabeth was on the floor crying from laughing so hard. Paul looked like he was starting to feel bad for me. My mom came over and kissed me on the head.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she said. “But we do loveallthose things about you. Let’s see how the letter came out.”

She read it aloud, and I had to admit, it wasn’t bad.

“How do you get his signature to appear, though?” Annabeth wondered.

Before she could suggest something likeHugs and kisses,I said, “ ‘Thank you for your time. Yours sincerely, Ganymede.’ ”

The words burned themselves onto the paper, with Ganymede’s signature appearing in red.

“You think it’s done?” I asked. Then I realized my question was not transcribing itself.

“Thank gods.”

“You have to get two more recommendation letters?” my mom asked. “Sounds like fun!”

“Yeah, and if those are do-it-yourself letters, too,” I said, “I think I’ll do them by myself.”

“But you’re never alone, Seaweed Brain.” Annabeth squeezed my ankle. “We’ll always be here to help you.”

She didn’t even have the decency to put sarcastic air quotes aroundhelp.

“To Percy!” Paul raised his glass. “Our own family hero!”

My mom and Annabeth both cheered and drank sparkling water to my health.

I appreciated the sentiment, but I didn’t join in. Toasts made me think of Ganymede, and it was a little too soon for that.

That night, I told Annabeth the full story.

After dinner, she’d headed back to her dorm, but once I’d had enough of doing homework, I lay down in my bed, fired up my makeshift Iris-message machine, and tossed a coin into the rainbow. I was a little afraid Iris’s staff, Mercedes, might fly through my window and beat me upside the head for using another form of messaging, but thankfully that didn’t happen.

“Hey,” said Annabeth.

She shimmered in the rainbow light, her head propped on one hand, an open textbook on the bed in front of her: some math stuff that was beyond me.

Her smile was the perfect antidote for my long crazy day. Sure, she had smiled at dinner (And laughed at me. A lot.), but this was a warmer, more intimate smile. I liked to think it was just for me.