They're a rag-tag trio, a bunch of runaway misfits, unwanted and on their own. Like the leftovers in the lost-and-found bin on the last day of school. Thalia, like a pair of beat-up old
jeans. Worn through and torn up and not worth returning for. Carelessly abandoned in the locker room so long ago, now stiff and smelling faintly of perspiration and gym shoes.
Annabeth is that soft scarf, a christmas present maybe, from an older cousin, worn only two times. Left behind in the scramble to gather your books as the last bell rings. Its
disappearance unnoticed until next spring. And at the very bottom is Luke, a tired sweatshirt with a warm hood and big pockets. Ragged and stained, but with past adventures and
happy memories. No doubt it was once someone's favorite, searched for doggedly when it was first missed, but now, long forgotten, it lies dirty and limp beneath other discarded
articles that no one will claim. The three of them are remainders, oddments, outcasts, but most important is that together they are a family.