Powerful | REWRITE

꓄ꃅꋪꍟꍟ ꂦ꒒ꀸ ꒒ꍏꀸꀤꍟꌗ ꓄ꋪꀤꍟꌗ ꓄ꂦ ꀘꈤꀤ꓄ ꓄ꃅꍟ ꌗꂦꉓꀘꌗ ꂦꎇ ꀸꍟꍏ꓄ꃅ

"That must be my counterpart's doing," Zeus muttered.

"Of course it is, dumbass," Hera snapped, rolling her eyes.

"Well, that's just great," Apollo sighed. "Messing with the weather, bringing down planes-someone clearly has it out for Percy, or they're trying to force her hand."

"Well," Athena said, casting a glance at Poseidon, "someone's definitely not going to let her be tormented."

Poseidon sat silently, fists clenched, his expression dark and furious-as usual.

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time. My grades slipped from As, to Ds, to Fs. I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her friends. I was sent out into the hallway in almost every class.

Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped. I called him an old sot. I wasn't even sure what it meant, but it sounded good.

Apollo shook his head quickly. “As she should!”

Hera sighed. “It’s not right for her to make it other people’s problem if they haven’t done anything to her… but I do understand why she acting that way.”

The headmaster sent my mom a letter the following week, making it official: I would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine. I was homesick.

I wanted to be with my mom in our little apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious stepfather and his stupid poker parties.

“I’m glad Yancy isn’t inviting her back—it’s doing her a huge favor,” Athena said. “The school did nothing for her, and neither did that fake teacher or so-called friend.”

“At least she’ll be with her mom,” Poseidon added, his voice softening. “That’s one person she can confide in.”

And yet . . . there were things I'd miss at Yancy. The view of the woods out my dorm window, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine trees.

I'd miss Grover, who'd been a good friend, even if he was a little strange. I worried how he'd survive next year without me.

"She’s incredibly caring," Athena said. "Which makes it easy for others to take advantage of her."

"That’s the problem," Poseidon replied, his tone laced with concern. "It’s a strength—but also a vulnerability.”

I'd miss Latin class, too — Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith that I could do well.

As exam week got closer, Latin was the only test I studied for. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why, but I'd started to believe him.

"Okay, first off, forget Latin class and that ridiculous test," Apollo said, visibly frustrated. "What kind of faith is Mr. Brunner placing in her, exactly?"

"And what does he mean by that Latin test being a matter of life or death?" Hera asked, her concern etched across her face.

"It doesn't matter," Poseidon said, shaking his head firmly. No one would touch his daughter—she was his, and his alone.

The evening before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Forget it.