Just a few more feet . . .
“Stop that!” Zeus snapped.
The cart stopped.
“I’m telling a story here, Barbara!”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
There was a long pause. I imagined all the gods staring at the cart, wondering why it seemed so heavily laden and why it was creaking more than usual. I waited for Barbara to yell Demigod! Kill him!
Finally, Zeus grunted. “Where was I?”
“Crete,” Hermes said. “Surrounded by llamas.”
“Right, so . . .”
I had trouble keeping track of the story. Partly, my heart was hammering too loudly. And partly, I just didn’t want to keep track of the story.
Zeus rambled on, trying to build sympathy for his poor baby self all alone on Crete. I doubted his audience was feeling the suspense since （spoiler） he was immortal, so the possibility of him getting killed by llamas was quite low. Nevertheless, I hoped everyone had stopped looking at the pastry cart. I risked lifting the bottom of the tablecloth.
I had a great view of Zeus’s sandaled feet. Did he polish those toenails or what?
Focus, Percy.
Ganymede stood on the other side of Zeus—only ten feet away, but still too far to slip him the chalice, especially since there was a lightning god between us. I tried to look up to see Ganymede’s face, but my angle wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t tell if he knew I was there or if he was too busy sweating Greek fire to notice.
I wondered if I could crawl from the cart to under the table, past all those immaculately groomed godly feet, without getting noticed. Probably not. Then I glanced to my right and locked eyes with the lion.
Well, that was super. He looked sleepy and surprised, like he was wondering if he was still dreaming or if the pastry cart really had a human head on the bottom shelf.
Probably the worst thing I could have done was to continue staring at him. So that’s what I did. He had pretty gold eyes. I’ve never been much of a cat person, but I could see the appeal of that big fuzzy face resting on giant fluffy paws, except for the fact that the face had fangs and the paws had claws.
I tried to use my son-of-the-sea-god patent-pending telepathy to send him a message: I am harmless. Please do not eat me. But I was pretty sure that 1） the lion was not a sea creature, and 2） even if I could communicate with him, he would not listen to me.
I mouthed, Okay, bye.
I slowly lowered the edge of the tablecloth. It would not protect me from the lion, but maybe he would forget about me?
“Then,” Zeus was saying, “my loving mother showed up! And you will never guess what she did!”
Rawwwwwr, said the lion.
Everyone around the table laughed.
“That’s right, Lucius!” Zeus agreed. “She roared! After that . . .”
I risked another peek, just to see if the lion was about to eat my face. Instead, Lucius had his head tilted and eyes closed in a look of utter bliss as Rhea scratched his ear, probably in an effort to keep him quiet.
I did meet the gaze of someone else, though. Apparently, she had peeked under the table to see the cute kitty. Now, from across the table, Athena was staring right at me.
Our eye-lock lasted less than a second, but the thing about Athena is that she is so smart, she can just glance at you and you feel like you’ve gone through a silent interrogation under a hot spotlight. The conversation went something like this:
Athena: Why?
Me: Quest. Sorry. Trying to hide.
Athena: Under a pastry cart? That is so clichéd.
Me: Yeah, I know.
Athena: I can’t believe my daughter is still dating you.
Me: Love is a mystery. Please don’t kill me?
Athena: . . . . . .
Me: . . . . . .
She popped her head back up while Zeus went on with his story. I waited for the goddess to interrupt and reveal my identity.
“So anyway, the first llama—” Zeus was saying.
“Ganymede?” Athena interrupted. “Would you be a sweetheart and take that pastry cart back to the kitchen? I don’t see any clotted cream for the scones, and that’s a deal-breaker.”
Ganymede stuttered, “Uh, I—”
“I want Ganymede to hear the end of the story!” Zeus protested.
“But, Father,” Athena said, calm and collected, “you know how Rhea loves her scones.”
There followed a moment of electric tension—I could imagine storm clouds forming around Zeus’s chair.
“Hmph,” he said at last. I couldn’t see him, but I swore I could feel the moment he let go of Ganymede’s wrist. “Hurry back.”