I never knew my mortal grandparents. （I suppose Kronos was technically my grandpa, but I tried not to think about that.）
Now I imagined what it would’ve been like to know my mom’s parents. They’d died when she was really young. In fact, when they’d died, they had been younger than my mom was now. That kind of blew my mind. Did they laugh with the same kind of joy my mom did? Had she inherited her love of cooking or writing from them? Did they hum as they walked in the rain without an umbrella, or was that just a Sally thing? If they hadn’t died so young, they could’ve been there for my mom during her hardest years. They could have gotten to know me. Maybe Geras wasn’t such a bad guy, despite his questionable loincloth fashion choices.
As I hugged him, I imagined that I was hugging my grandparents and also embracing the idea of growing older and looking back on a great life, thinking, Well, we made it. Yeah, we’ll die someday—maybe soon—but we had a pretty good run, didn’t we?
I pictured myself holding hands with Annabeth when we were both wrinkly and frail, and I still looked into her eyes and loved her as much as ever. I imagined ruffling Grover’s gray hair when he fell asleep on a garden bench, telling him, “Wake up, there, G-man. Food’s ready!” I imagined us sitting around a table together, sharing a good meal and laughing about all the crazy things we’d done in our lives. Including that time I wrestled the god of old age in Washington Square Park.
I ignored Gary’s musty smell, his baggy skin, his liver spots and weird hairs, and I just embraced him like an old friend. A very old, past-his-expiration-date friend.
It was better than the alternative.
Living fast, dying young, and leaving a good-looking corpse is a cool-sounding philosophy—until it’s your corpse people are talking about. Gary pushed me against the tetherball pole one last time, but I guess his heart wasn’t in it.
He relaxed, patted me on the back, then put his head on my shoulder. He started to tremble. I heard a single sniffle. Was the god crying? Was he . . . smearing godly snot on my shoulder?
I didn’t know. Still, I didn’t push him away.
I peeked at Annabeth and Grover. The satyr looked stunned, but Wise Girl was smiling faintly. Of course she got what I was doing. She was quick to recognize a good strategy. And that twinkle of appreciation in her eyes was the best look I could ever hope for. It meant she was proud of me.
Finally, Gary disentangled himself from my hug. He stepped back and evaluated me anew. His eyes swam with reddish-brown tears. His jawline quivered. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to hit me or hug me again.
“Why?” he asked.
“I figured I’ll be wrestling with you my whole life,” I said. “And I’m okay with that. I just wanted you to know.” I took a shaky breath. “But if you really feel like the end of my life should be right now, we can keep throwing each other around the playground.”
Gary grunted. His expression was a mix of surprise, irritation, and maybe a little respect.
“Technically, I was throwing you around,” he said. “I was winning.”
I didn’t respond. It seemed like the smart choice.
“Old Age is never embraced,” he muttered. “Do you know the last time I had a hug?” He stared into the sky as if trying to remember. His sad expression reminded me of old people I’d seen in nursing homes, gazing into the distance, trying to figure out where their lives had gone, where their loved ones were, how they’d become so alone.
“So what now?” I asked.
He frowned. “Old Age is patient. I hate that about myself, but I almost never rush to end someone’s life. And you’re right . . . ending your life now, at age sixteen . . .”
“Seventeen,” I corrected.
Grover cleared his throat. Shut up!
“Seventeen,” Gary echoed. The number seemed to taste bitter in his mouth. “No. It isn’t right. This isn’t your time.”
He tilted his head, turning his liver spots to the morning sunlight. “You really wouldn’t drink from the chalice, would you?”
“Nah,” I said. “I kinda want to live a whole life, you know? Even the tough stuff. Plus, I’ve seen what happens to people who are turned into gods.” I thought about poor Ganymede, frozen as a beautiful teen, but stuck with all his anxiety, self-doubt, and fears forever. No thank you.
“Interesting.” Gary studied my friends, then turned back to me. “I look forward to wrestling you for many years to come, Percy Jackson. Do not think I will go easy on you, just because you have impressed me now.”