Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Chalice of the Gods(41)

Tonight, though, he seemed tenser than usual. You would never be able to tell if you didn’t know him, but he did this thing where he tapped his fingertips to his thumb when he was nervous, like he was trying to pinch a string that he couldn’t quite find.

“Going okay?” I asked him.

“Me?” He smiled. “No monster fights this week. Unless you count freshman essays on Romeo and Juliet. Help me set the table?”

There was something else going on, but I decided not to push. I set places for four. In the kitchen, garlic bread was toasting. Lasagna was bubbling in the oven. Annabeth was laughing about something my mom said, and the way they both grinned in my direction, I figured it had to do with me. Annabeth had already seen my baby pictures, so I wasn’t worried about what they were saying. I had no dignity left. Annabeth and I were still together. I figured that was good enough.

Some Bob Dylan vinyl was playing on Paul’s turntable, soft enough to be background music, but with Dylan’s voice, you can never quite ignore him. Not my jam, but I can deal with it. Paul says Dylan was one of the best twentieth-century poets. I mean, the guy can rhyme leaders with parking meters. I guess that’s something?

Once we were all seated, passing around the salad, I noticed something else strange. My mom was drinking sparkling water.

She wasn’t a big drinker, but she usually had one glass of red wine with dinner.

“No vino?” I asked her.

She shook her head, her eyes twinkling like she was still thinking about a private joke. “No. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“About wine?”

“Ahem,” Paul coughed. He was now pinching with both hands, looking for that invisible string. Why so edgy?

Annabeth gave me a look. Seriously, Seaweed Brain? You don’t get it?

Maybe my mom had told her something in the kitchen, or maybe Annabeth had just figured out what was going on by herself. She notices things. Being with her is like being with somebody who’s watching the same movie, but fifteen minutes ahead of where you are.

“Not about wine,” my mom said. “More about why I’m not drinking it tonight. But first, I want to be clear that this should not affect your plans, Percy. I don’t want it to distract you from everything you’ve got going on . . . especially getting into New Rome University.”

My mouth dried up. My first thought was, Oh, gods, she’s got some terrible disease.

“Mom, I—I live in distracted. It’s my zip code. Whatever is wrong, I want to help.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” She reached across the table and took my hand. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m pregnant.”

She could have hit me upside the head with a rainbow staff and the message would have stunned me less.

“Pregnant . . .” I repeated.

She gave me a brave smile—the same kind she used to give me when she found me a new school after I got kicked out of the last one. Surprise!

“Like . . . you and Paul.”

I looked at my stepdad, who hadn’t touched his lasagna. I realized everybody at the table was holding their breath. Maybe they were afraid I would make all the plumbing in the apartment building explode. Which, for the record, I only did that one time.

“Yes, me and Paul.” My mom took his hand. I wondered if they’d had some awkward conversations about whether it was safe to have a human child after having a demigod. After me.

Annabeth was watching me carefully, gauging my reaction. Concerned for me? Concerned for Paul and my mom?

A warm feeling washed over me. I started to grin.

“That is awesome.”

The tension broke, which was a lot better than the pipes breaking. I jumped out of my chair and hugged Paul because he was closer. I think I startled the poor guy. He accidentally dragged one of his shirtsleeves through the lasagna.

Then I rounded the table and hugged my mom. She let out a laugh/sob that was a great sound: total relief, total happiness. There was some crying. I am not going to point fingers at who it was, though. Finally, we got settled back into our places, though I still felt like I was floating a couple of inches off the floor.

“I’m really glad you’re happy,” my mom said.

“Of course I’m happy.” I couldn’t seem to stop smiling, which is a problem when you’re hungry and you have a plate of lasagna in front of you. “Hold up. When?”

“The due date is March fifteenth,” she said.

Annabeth’s eyebrows shot up. “The Ides of March?”

“That’s just a best guess.” My mom winked at her. “Percy came much later than expected.”

“I was stubborn,” I said. “So this means I’ll be here when the baby comes. That’s awesome. I’ll have a few months before . . .”

My smile finally faded. If all went well and I got into school with Annabeth, I would be leaving for California during the summer. That meant I’d miss so much with the new baby. I wanted to hear the kid’s first laugh, see their first steps. I wanted to play peekaboo and teach the little rug rat to make rude noises and eat blue baby food.

“Hey,” my mom said, “you will be here for the delivery. And you can come home from California as often as you want. But you also need to stick to your plans. They are excellent plans!”

“Yeah, of course,” I said.