NEVER BE THE SAME . . . percy jackson

fifty two: the state of alaska.

BROOKLYN HAD NEVER been happier. That she could remember, at least.

She was pacing the cabin as she tried to listen to Frank and Hazel talking, but she couldn't pay attention because of her high energy. Hazel was reassuring Frank that he'd done everything he could for his grandmother. Frank had saved them from the Laistrygonians and gotten them out of Vancouver. He'd been incredibly brave.

Frank kept his head down like he was ashamed to have been crying, but Brooklyn didn't blame him. The poor guy had just lost his grandmother and seen his house go up in flames. As far as she was concerned, shedding a few tears about something like that didn't make you any less of a man, especially when you had just fended off an army of ogres that wanted to eat you for breakfast. Of course, she's not a man, so she can't really talk.

Frank refused to explain exactly what his "family gift" was, but as they flew north, he did tell them about his conversation with Mars the night before. He explained the prophecy Juno had issued when he was a baby — about his life being tied to a piece of firewood, and how he had asked Hazel to keep it for him.

Some of that, Brooklyn had already figured out. Hazel and Frank had obviously shared some crazy experiences when they had blacked out together, and they'd made some sort of deal. It also explained why even now, out of habit, Frank kept checking his coat pocket, and why he was so nervous around fire. Still, Brooklyn couldn't imagine what kind of courage it had taken for Frank to embark on a quest, knowing that one small flame could snuff out his life. At least she hasn't set many fires during this quest.

"Frank," Percy said, "I'm proud to be related to you."

Frank's ears turned red. With his head lowered, his military haircut made a sharp black arrow pointing down. "Juno has some sort of plan for us, about the Prophecy of Eight."

"Yeah," Percy grumbled. "I didn't like her as Hera. I don't like her any better as Juno."

"You're telling me," Brooklyn muttered. "She hates me because my father had sex with my mother. Like, hello? That wasn't my decision."

Hazel tucked her feet underneath her. She studied Percy and Brooklyn with her luminescent golden eyes, and Brooklyn wondered how she could be so calm. Hazel was the youngest one on the quest, but she was always holding them together and comforting them. Now they were flying to Alaska, where she had died once before. They would try to free Thanatos, who might take her back to the Underworld. Yet she didn't show any fear.

"You're a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Zeus, aren't you?" she asked. "You are Greek demigods."

That sparked something in Brooklyn's brain. She froze in place, staring out the window. Daughter of Zeus. That felt right. More right than being the daughter of a planet.

Percy gripped his leather necklace. "I started to remember in Portland, after the gorgon's blood. It's been coming back to me slowly since then. There's another camp — Camp Half-Blood."

Just hearing the name made Brooklyn feel slightly less hyperactive. Good memories washed over her: the smell of strawberry fields in the warm summer sun, fireworks lighting up the beach on the Fourth of July, satyrs playing panpipes at the nightly campfire, and a night at the bottom of the canoe lake.

Hazel and Frank stared at Percy as though he'd slipped into another language.

"Another camp," Hazel repeated. "A Greek camp? Gods, if Octavian found out—"

"He'd declare war," Frank said. "He's always been sure the Greeks were out there, plotting against us. He thought you two were spies."

"That's why Juno sent us," Percy said. "Uh, I mean, not to spy. I think it was some kind of exchange. Your friend Jason — I think he was sent to my camp. In my dreams, I saw a demigod that might have been him. He was working with some other demigods on this flying warship. I think they're coming to Camp Jupiter to help."