Sorry for the late update, I kept getting sick and I was helping my friend move to her house.

I changed it to Sally was safe at home, never reporting the kidnapping because Ares had threatened harm to her children if she did.
Zeus and Poseidon will be mortal sized so Atlanta will keep her promise to Hades. Also I will make Poseidon fatherlier, because I think he's actually one of the few good parents of the gods.

I DO NOT OWN PERCY JACKSON RICK RIORDAN DOES! I only have rights to Atlanta and, just Atlanta. The stories are still in Percy's POV.

Chapter twenty-one: Atlanta and I Settle Our Tab

It's funny how humans can wrap their mind around things and fit them into their version of reality. Chiron told Atlanta and me that long ago. As usual, I didn't appreciate his wisdom until much later.

According to the L.A. news, the explosion at the Santa Monica beach had been caused when a crazy kidnapper fired a shotgun at the police car. He accidently hit a gas main that had ruptured during the earthquake.

This crazy kidnapper (a.k.a Ares) was the same man who had abducted Atlanta, me, three other adolescents in New York and brought us across country on a ten-day odyssey of terror.

Poor little Percy and Atlanta Jackson weren't international criminals after all. He'd caused a commotion on that Greyhound bus in New Jersey trying to get away from their captor (and afterword, witness would even swear they seen the leather-clad man on the bus- "Why didn't I remember him before?"). The crazy man had caused the explosion in the St. Louis Arch. After all, no kids could've done that. A concerned waitress in Denver had seen the man threatening his abductees outside her diner, gotten a friend to take a photo, and notified the police. Finally, brave Percy Jackson )I was beginning to like this kid) had stolen a gun from his captor in Los Angeles and battled him shotgun-to-rifle ion the beach. Police arrived just in time. But in the spectacular explosion, five police cars had been destroyed and the captor had fled. No fatalities had occurred. Percy and Atlanta Jackson and their three friends were safely in police custody. Sally Jackson, never reported the kidnapping because the crazy man threatened her children if she dared to.

The reporters fed us this whole story. We just nodded, acted tearful, and exhausted (which wasn't hard), and played victimized kids, for the cameras.
"All my sister and I want," I said, chocking back my tears, "is to see my mom and loving stepfather again. Every time we say him on TV, calling us delinquent punks, I knew…somehow… we would be okay."
"And we know he'll want to reward each and every person in this beautiful city of Lod Angeles with a free major appliance from his store. Here's the phone number," Atlanta said faking crying.
It took me every once not to laugh at that.
The police and reporters were so moved that they passed around the hat and raised money for five tickets on the next plan to New York.

I knew there was no chance but to fly. I hoped Zeus would cut Atlanta and I some slack, considering the circumstances. But it was still hard to force myself and convince Atlanta to get on board the flight.

Take off was a nightmare. Every spot of turbulence was scarier than a Greek monster. I didn't unclench my hands from the armrests until we touched down safely at La Guardia. The local press was waiting for us outside security, but we managed to evade them thanks to Annabeth, whin lured them away in her invisible Yankees cap, shouting, "They're over by the frozen yogurt! Come on!." Then re-joined us at baggage claim.

We split up at the taxi stand. I told Annabeth, Grover (Making sure to tell Grover to keep Annabeth away from Ermis), and Ermis to get back to Half-Blood Hill and let Chiron know what had happened. They protested and it was hard to let them go after all we'd been through, but Atlanta and I knew we had to do this last part of the quest by ourselves. If things went wrong, if the gods didn't believe us…I wanted Annabeth, Grover, and Ermis to survive to tell Chiron the truth.

Atlanta and I hopped in a taxi and headed into Manhattan.

Thirty minutes later, we walked into the lobby of the Empire State Building.

Atlanta and I must have looked like homeless kids, with our tattered clothes and our scraped-up face. We hadn't slept in at least twenty-four hours.

We went up to the guard at the front desk and I said, "Six hundredth floor."
He was reading a huge book with a picture on the front. I wasn't much into fantasy, but the book must've been good, because the guard took a while to look up. "No such floor, kiddo."

"We need an audience with Zeus."

He gave us a vacant smile. "Sorry?"

I was about to decide this guy was just a regular mortal, and Atlanta and I better run for it before he called the straitjacket patrol when Atlanta said.
"Are you really going to make us do it?" Atlanta asked.

The guard looked confused. "What?"

"He's going to make us do it, Percy show him why we need an audience with the big baby."

"Look kid, no appointment, no audience. Lord Zeus doesn't see anyone unannounced."

"Oh I think he'll make an exception," I said. I slipped off my backpack and unzipped the top.

The guard looked inside at the metal cylinder, not getting what it was for a few seconds. Then his face went pale, "That-that isn't…"

"Yes it is," I promised. "You want me to take it out and-"
"No! No!" He scrambled out of his seat, fumbled around the desk for a key card, then handed it to Atlanta. "I-insert this in the security slot. Make sure nobody else is in the elevator with you two."

We did as he told us. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Atlanta slipped the key into the slot. The card disappeared and a new button appeared in the console, a red one that said 600.

Atlanta pressed It and we waited, and waited.

Muzak played. "Raindrops keep falling on my head…"

Finally, ding. The doors slid open. I stepped out and almost had a heart attack.

Atlanta and I were standing on a narrow stone walkway in the missile of the air. Below us was Manhattan, from the height of an airplane. In front of us, white marble steps wounded up the spin of a cloud, into the sky. My eyes followed the stairway to its end, where my brain just could not accept what I saw.

Look again, my brain said.

We're looking, my eyes insisted. It's really there.
From the top of the clouds rose the decapitated peak of a mountain, its summit covered with snow. Clinging to the mountainside were dozens of multileveled palaces-a city of mansions-all with white-columned porticos, gilded terraces, and bronze braziers glowing with a thousand fires. Roads wound crazily up to the peak, where the largest palace gleamed against the snow, Precariously perched gardens bloomed with olive trees and rosebushes. I could make out an open-air market filled with colorful tents, a stone amphitheater built on one side of the mountain, a hippodrome, and a coliseum on the other. It was an Ancient Greek city, except it wasn't in ruins. It was new, and cleans and colorful, the way Athena must've looked twenty0five hundred years ago.

This place can't be here, I told myself. The tip of a mountain hanging over New York city like a billion-ton asteroid? How could something like that be anchored above the Empire State Building, in plain sight of millions of people, and not get noticed?

But here it was. And here Atlanta and I were.

Our trip through Olympus was a daze. We passed some giggling wood nymphs who threw olives at us from their garden. Hawkers in the market offered to sell us ambrosia on-a-stick, and a new shield, and a genuine glitter-weave replica of the Golden Fleece, as seen on Hephaestus-TV. The nine muses were tuning their instruments for a concert in the park while a small crowd gathered-satyrs and naiads and a bunch of good-looking teenagers who might've ben minor gods and goddess. Nobody seemed worried about an impending civil war. In fact, everybody seemed in a festive mood. Several of them turned to watch us pass, and whispered to themselves.
Atlanta and I climbed the main road, toward the big palace at the peak. It was reverse copy of the palace in the Underworld. There, everything had been black and bronze. Here, everything glittered white and silver.
I realized Hades must've built his palace to resemble this one. He wasn't welcomed in Olympus except on the winter solstice, so he'd built his own Olympus underground. Despite our bad experience with him, I felt sorry for the guy. To be banished from this place and his family seemed really unfair. It would make anybody bitter.

Steps led up to a central courtyard. Past that, the throne room.

Room really wasn't the right word. The place made Grand Central Station look like a broom closet. Massive columns rose to a domed ceiling, which was gilded with mobbing constellations.

Twelve thrones-some built for beings the size of Hades, others built for smaller beings- were arranged in an inverted U, just like the cabins at Camp Half-Blood. An enormous fire crackled in the central hearth pit. The thrones were empty except for two at the end: the head throne on the right, and the one to its immediate left. I didn't have to be told who the two gods were that were sitting there, waiting for us to approach. We came toward them, my legs trembling.
The gods were the same size as Hades, but I could barely look at them with feeling a tingle, as if my body were starting to burn. Zeus, the Lord of the Gods, wore a dark blue pinstriped suit. He sat on a simple throne of solid platinum. He had a well-trimmed beard, marbled gray and black like a storm cloud. His face was proud, handsome, and grim, his eyes rainy gray.

As Atlanta and I got closer to him, the air crackled and smelled of ozone.

The god sitting next to him was his brother, without a doubt, but he was dressed very differently. He reminded me of a beachcomber from Key West. He wore leather sandals, khaki Bermuda shorts, and a Tommy Bahama shirt with coconuts and parrots all over it. His skin was deeply tanned, his hands scarred like an old-time fisherman's. His hair was black, like mine. His face had that same brooding look that had always gotten me branded a rebel. But his eyes, sea-green like mine, were surrounded by sun-crinkles that told me he smiled a lot, too.

His throne was a deep-sea fisherman's chair. It was the simple swiveling kind, with a black leather seat and a built-in holster for a fishing pole. Instead of a pole, the holster held a bronze trident, flickering with a green light around the tips.

The gods weren't moving or speaking, but there was tension in the air, as if they'd just finished an argument.

Atlanta gave me a shove and I approached the fisherman's throne and knelt at his feet. "Father," I said. I dared not look up. My heart was racing. I could feel energy emanating from the two gods. If I said the wrong thing, I had no doubt they could blast me into dust.

To our left, Zeus spoke. "Should you not address the master of this house first, boy?"

I kept my head down, and waited.

"Peace, brother," Poseidon finally said. His voice stirred my oldest memories: that warm glow I remembered as a baby, the sensation of this god's hand on my forehead. "The boy defers to his father. This is only right."

"You still claim him then?" Zeus asked, menacingly. "You claim this child whom you sired against our sacred oath?"

"I will be the first to admit, breaking my oath is a wrong that can not be right," Poseidon said. "But I do not regret my son. Now I would hear him speak."

He didn't regret me. Poseidon did not regret me. If he didn't regret me, why had ignored me my whole life?

"I have soared him and his sister once already," Zeus grumbled. "Daring to fly through my domain…pah! I should have blasted them out of the sky for their-OW!"

I looked up at Zeus, holding his noise glaring behind me. I looked at Atlanta who was now barefoot. Looks like she kept her promise to Hades. Poseidon started laughing with a big roar, and I had a hard time not joining him.

"And put your precious toy in danger?" Atlanta asked calmly. "I don't think so."

"You dare-" Zeus said.

"I dare. And I did the same thing to Hades and he's way scarier then you."

Zeus went to stand, but Poseidon spoke up, still laughing. "Let us hear them out, brother."

Zeus grumbled some more, still holding his noise. "I shall listen," he decided. "Then I shall make up my mind whether or not to cast them down from Olympus."
"My brother has two shoes, and I can very easily get them from him," Atlanta said.

Zeus glared at her, while moving his hand to cover his noise.

"Perseus," Poseidon chuckled. "Look at me."

I did, and I wasn't sure what I saw in his face. There was no clear sign of love or approval. Nothing to encourage me. It was like looking at the ocean: some days, you could tell what mood it was in. Most days, though, it was unreadable, mysterious.

I got the feeling Poseidon really didn't know what to think of me. He didn't really know whether he was happy to have me as a son or not. In a strange way, I was glad that Poseidon was so distant. If he'd tried to apologize, or told me he loved me, or even smiled, it would've felt fake. Like a human dad, making some lame excuse for not being around. I could live with that. After all, I wasn't sure about him yet, either.

"Adress Lord Zeus, son," Poseidon told me. "Tell him your story."

So I told Zeus everything, just as it happen, leaving out Atlanta's powers. I took out the metal cylinder, which began sparking in the Sky God's presence, and laid it at his feet.

There was a long silence, broken only by the crackle of the hearth fire.
Zeus opened his palm. The lightning bolt flew into it. As he closed his fist, the metallic points flared with electricity, until he was holding what looked more like the classic thunderbolt, a twenty-foot javelin of arching, hissing energy that made the hairs on my scalp rise.
"I sense the boy tells the truth," Zeus muttered. "But that Ares would do such a thing…it is most unlike him."

"He is proud and impulsive," Poseidon said. "It runs in the family."

"Lords?" Atlanta asked.

They both said, "Yes?"

"As big as a jerk Ares is, it isn't his fault. Someone was manipulating him, someone else-something else-came up with the idea."

Atlanta and I described our dreams, and the feeling I'd had on the beach, that momentary breath of evil that had seemed to stop the world, and made Ares back off from killing me.

"In the dreams," I said. "the voice told me to bring the bolt to the Underworld. Ares hinted that he'd been having dreams, too. I think he was being used, just as Atlanta and I were, to start a war."

"You are accusing Hades, after all?" Zeus asked.

"No," Atlanta said. "The only thing Hades is guilty of is not being able to rely on his siblings for help. His helm of darkness was stolen, along with your master bolt."

"It's the same feeling we felt when we got close to that pit. That was the entrance to Tartarus, wasn't it? Something powerful and evil is stirring down there…something even older then the gods."

Poseidon and Zeus looked at each other. They had a quick, intense discussion in Ancient Greek. I only caught one word. Father.

Poseidon made some kind of suggestion, but Zeus cut him off. Poseidon tried to argue. Zeus held up his hand angrily. "We will speak of this no more," Zeus said. "I must go personally to purify this thunderbolt in waters of Lemnos, to remove the human taint from its metal."
He rose and looked at me and Atlanta. His expression soften just a fraction of a degree. "You have done me a service, children. Few heroes could have accomplished as much."
"We had help, sir," I said. "Grover Underwood, Annabeth Chase, and Ermis-"

"To show my thanks, I shall spare you and your devil sister lives. I do not trust you, Perseus Jackson. I do not like what your arrival means for the future of Olympus. But for the sake of peace in the family, I shall let you both live."
"Um…thank you, sir."

"Yeah thanks for the bare minimum," Atlanta said. "Bug Zapper."

Poseidon burst out laughing again. Zeus glared at her and Atlanta glared back.
"Do not presume to fly again. Do not let me find either of you here when I return. Otherwise you shall taste this bolt. And it shall be your last sensation." Thunder shook the palace. With a blinding flash of lightning, Zeus was gone.
Atlanta and I were alone in the throne room with my father.
"Your uncle," Poseidon sighed. "has always had a flair for dramatic exits. I think he would've done well as the god of theater."

An uncomfortable silence.

"Sir," I said. "what was in that pit?"

Poseidon regarded me. "Have you not guesses?"

"Kronos," I said. "King of the Titans."

Even in the throne room of Olympus far away from Tartarus, the name Kronos darkened the room, made the hearth fire seem not quite so warm on my back. Atlanta shivered and held my hand tightly.

Poseidon gripped his trident. "In the First War, Percy, Atlanta, Zeus cut our father Kronos into a thousand pieces, just as Kronos had done to his own father, Ouranos. Zeus cast Kronos's remains into the darkest pit of Tartarus. The Titan army was scattered, their mountain fortress on Etna destroyed their monstrous allies driven to the farthest corners of the earth. And yet Titans cannot die, any more than we gods can. Whatever is left of Kronos is still alive in some hideous way, still conscious in his eternal pain, still hungering for power."

"He's healing," I said. "He's coming back."

Atlanta tightened her grip on my hand. Poseidon shook his head. "From time to time, over the eons, Kronos has stirred. He enters men's nightmares and breaths evil thoughts. He wakens restless monsters from the depths. But to suggest he could rise from the pit is another thing."

"He is!" Atlanta cried. "He told us "help me rise hero, my chil- he said he so."

I hugged Atlanta tighter as she begun to cry. Poseidon was silent for a long time. For a second I thought he was going to ask what she meant, but he didn't.

"Lord Zeus had closed discussion on this matter. He will not allow talk of Kronos. You have completed your quests, children. That is all you need to do."

"But-" I stopped myself. Atlanta was shaking more and more as the talk of Kronos continued. No matter how much I think we should talk about it, for her sake I'll stop. "As…as you wish, Father."

A faint smile played on his lips. "Obedience does not come naturally to you, does it?"

"No…sir."

"I must take some blame for that, I suppose. The sea does not like to be restrained," he rose to his full height and took up his trident. Then he shimmered and became the size of a regular man, standing directly in front of me. "You sister also seems to pick up on that trait as well. You both must go, children. Your mother is waiting at your home for you both."

"She left camp?" Atlanta asked.

"She left shortly after you two set off on your quest. She was of course arrested for your "disappearance" but released after your interview."

I wanted to ask if Poseidon would come with us to see her, but then I realized that was ridiculous. I imagined loading the God of the Sea into a taxi and taking him to the Upper East Side. If he'd wanted to see our mom all these years, he would have. And there was Smelly Gabe to think about.

Poseidon's eyes took on a little sadness. "When you both return home, Percy, Atlanta, you must make an important choice. You will find a package waiting for your room."
"A package?" Atlanta asked.

"You will understand when you see it. No one can choose your path, Percy, Atlanta. You must decide."

I nodded, though I didn't know what he meant.

"Your mother is a queen among women," Poseidon said wistfully. "I had not met such a mortal woman in a thousand years. Still…I am sorry for the hard life I have given you. I have brought you a hero's fate, and a hero's fate is never happy. It is never anything but tragic."

"I don't mind, father."

"Not yet, perhaps," he said. "Not yet. But in time, you will mind, and I am sorry."

"We'll leave you then," I bowed awkwardly. "We-we better not temp Zeus."

Atlanta and I took five steps away when he called, "Perseus."
I turned.

There was a different light in his eyes, a fiery kind of pride. "You did well, Perseus. Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are a true son of the Sea God. And your sister, whoever her parent is will also be proud."

"Mom is proud of me, and that's all I need," Atlanta said.

As we walked back through the city of the gods, conversations stopped. The muses paused their concert. People and satyrs and naiads all turned toward us, their faces filled with respect and gratitude, and as we passed, they knelt, as if we were some kind of heroes.

Fifteen minutes later, still in a trace, I was back on the streets of Manhattan.

We caught a taxi to our mom's apartment, rant the doorbell, and there she was- our beautiful mother, smelling of peppermint and licorice, the weariness and worry evaporating from her face as soon as she saw us.

"Percy! Atlanta! Oh, thank goodness. Oh, my babies."

She crushed the air right out of me. We stood in the hallway, as she cried and ran her hands thought mine and Atlanta's hair.

I'll admit it-my eyes were a little misty, too. I was shaking, I was so relieved to see her again.

She told us she'd left camp shortly after we did. She told us all about the police investigation and how she was released just this morning. She told us how worried she was when she saw the news reports and how we were wanted criminals, traveling across the country, blowing up national monuments. Gabe had forced her to go into work, saying she had a month's salary to make up and she'd better get started.

I swallowed back my anger, and I felt Atlanta shaking, as we told her our story. I tried to make it sound less scary than it had been, but that wasn't easy. Atlanta was just getting to the fact she threw her shoe at Hades when Gabe's voice interrupted from the living room. "Hey, Sally! That meat loaf done yet or what?"

She closed her eyes. "He isn't going to be happy to see either of you, Atlanta, Percy. The store got half a million phone calls today from Los Angeles…something about free appliances."

"I am not sorry," Atlanta said.

She managed a weak smile. "Just don't make him angrier, all right? Come on."

In the month we'd been gone, the apartment had turned into Gabeland. Garbage was ankle deep on the carpet. The sofa had been reupholstered in beer cans. Dirty socks and underwear hung off the lampshades.

Gabe and three of his big goony friends were playing poker at the table.
When Gabe saw Atlanta and me, his cigar dropped out of his mouth. His face got redder than lava. "You both got nerve coming here, you little punks. I thought the police-"

"They're not fugitives after all," our mom interjected. "Isn't that wonderful, Gabe?"

Gabe looked back and forth between us. He didn't seem to think our homecoming was so wonderful.

"Bad enough I had to give back your life insurance money, Sally," he growled. "Get me the phone. I'll call the cops."

"Gabe no!"

He raised his eyebrows. "Did you just say 'no'? You think I'm gonna put these punks again? I can still press charges against them for ruining my Camaro."

"But-"

He raised his hand, and our mother flinched.
For the first time, I realized something. Gabe had hit our mother. I didn't know when, or how much. But I was sure he'd done it. Maybe it had been going in for years, when Atlanta and I weren't around.

A balloon of anger started expanding in my chest. I came forward toward Gabe, instinctively taking my pen out of my pocket. Atlanta was with me, clutching her fists.

He just laughed. "What punks? You gonna write on me? You touch me, and you are going to jail forever, you understand?"

"Hey, Gabe," his friend Eddie interrupted. "They're just kids."

Gabe looked at him resentfully and mimicked in a falsetto voice: "Just kids."

His other friends laughed like idiots.

"I'll be nice punks." Gabe showed me his tobacco stained teeth. "I'll give you five minutes to get your stuff and clear out. After that, I'll call the police."

"Gabe!" our mother pleaded.

"They ran away," Gabe told her. "Let them stay gone."

I was itching to uncap Riptide, but even if I did, the blade wouldn't hurt humans. And Gabe, but the loosest definition, was human.

Our mother took mine and Atlanta's arms. "Please, Percy, Atlanta. Come on. We'll go to your room."

Atlanta and I let her pull us away, my hands still trembling with rage.

Our room had been completely filled with Gabe's junk. There were stacks of used car batteries, a rotting bouquet of sympathy flowers with a card from someone who'd seen his Barbara Walters interview.

"Gabe is just upset, babies," our mother told us. "I'll talk to him later. I'm sure it will work out."

"Mom it will never work out. Not as long as Gabe's here," Atlanta said.

Mom wrung her hands nervously. "I can…I'll take both to work with me for the rest of the summer. In the fall, maybe there's another boarding school-"

"Mom," I said.

She lowered her eyes. "I'm trying, Percy, Atlanta. I just…I need some time."

A package appeared on Atlanta's bed. At least, I could've sworn it hadn't been there a moment before.

It was battered cardboard box about the right size to fit a basketball. The address on the mailing slip was in my own handing.

The Gods
Mount Olympus

600th Floor,

Empire State Building

New York, NY

With best wishes,
Percy and Atlanta Jackson
Ps. Dad you suck!
I Do not!

Poseidon had crossed out my PSs. and wrote underneath it. Over the top in black marker, in a man's clear, bold print, was the address of our apartment, and the words: RETURN TO SENDER.

Suddenly I understood what Poseidon had told me on Olympus.

A package. A decision.

Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are the true son of the Sea God.

I looked at our mother. "Mom, do you want Gabe gone?"
"Percy, it isn't that simple. I-"

"Mom, just tell us. That jerk has been hitting you. Do you want him gone or not?" Atlanta said catching on.

She hesitated, then nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes, Atlanta. I do. And I'm trying to get up my courage to tell him. But you both can't do this for me. You can't solve my problems."

I looked at the box.

We could solve her problem. I wanted to slice that package open, plot it on the poker table, and take out what was inside. I could start my very own statue garden, right there in the living room.

That/s what a Greek hero would do in the stories, I thought. That's what Gabe deserves.

But a hero's story always ended in tragedy. Poseidon had told us that.

I remembered the Underworld. I thought about Gabe's spirit drifting forever in the Fields of Asphodel, or condemned to some hideous torture behind the barbed wire of the Fields of Punishment-an eternal poker game, sitting up to his waits in boiling oil listening to opera music. Did Atlanta and I have the right to send someone there? Even Gabe?

A month ago, I wouldn't have hesitated. Now…

"We can do it," Atlanta told our mom.

"One look inside this box, and he'll never bother you again," I told our mom.

She glanced at the package, and seemed to understand immediately. "No, Percy, Atlanta," she said, stepping away. "You can't."

"Poseidon called you a queen," Atlanta told her. "He said he hadn't met a woman like you in a thousand years."

Her cheeks flushed. "Atlanta-"

"You deserve better than this, Mom," I said. "You should go to college, get your degree. You can write your novel, meet a nice guy maybe, live in a nice house. You don't need to protect Atlanta and me anymore by staying with Gabe. Let us get rid of him,"

She wiped a tear off her cheek. "You sound so much like your father," she said. "He offered to stop the tide for me once. He offered to build me a palace at the bottom of the sea. He thought he could solve all my problems with a wave of his hand."
"What's wrong with that?" Atlanta asked.

Her multicolored eyes seemed to search inside mine and Atlanta. "I think you know, Atlanta, Percy. I think you both are enough like me to understand. If my life is going to mean anything, I have to live it myself. I can't let a god take care of me…or my children. I have to…find the courage on my own. Your quest had remind me of that."
We listened to the sound of poker chips and swearing, ESPN from the living room television.
"We'll leave the box," I said.

"If he threatens you…" Atlanta said.

She looked pale, but nodded. "Where will you go, Percy, Atlanta?"

"Half-Blood Hill," I said.

"For the summer…or forever?" Mom asked.

"I…I don't know," Atlanta said.

We locked eyes, and I sensed that we had an agreement. We would see how things stood at the end of the summer.

She kissed our foreheads. "You both will be heroes, Atlanta, Percy. You will be the greatest of them all."

Atlanta and I took one last look around our bedroom. I had a feeling I'd never see it again. Then we walked with our mother to the front door.

"Leaving so soon, punks?" Gabe called after us. "Good riddance."
I had one last twinge of doubt. How could I turn down the perfect chance to take revenge on him? Atlanta and I were leaving without saving our mother.

"Hey, Sally," he yelled. "What about that meat loaf, huh?"

A steely look of anger flared in my mother's eyes, and I thought, just maybe, Atlanta and I were leaving her in good hands after all. Her own.

"The meat loaf is coming right up, dear," she told Gabe. "Meat loaf surprise."

She looked at us, and winked.

The last thing I saw as the door swing closed was our mother staring at Gabe, as if she were contemplating how he would look at as a garden statue."