NEVER BE THE SAME . . . percy jackson

eighty: the ancient city.

UNDER DIFFERENT CIRCUMSTANCES, wandering through Rome would have been a little less boring. Brooklyn, Annabeth, and Percy navigated the winding streets, dodging cars and crazy Vespa drivers, squeezing through mobs of tourists, and wading through oceans of pigeons. The day warmed up quickly. Once they got away from the car exhaust on the main roads, the air smelled of baking bread and freshly cut flowers.

They aimed for the Colosseum because that was an easy landmark, but getting there was difficult, as Brooklyn didn't know what she was doing, and she didn't care. Several times they got lost on dead-end streets. They found beautiful fountains and huge monuments by accident.

Annabeth commented on the architecture, but Brooklyn tuned her out, looking around anywhere else because she didn't care. Once she spotted a glowing purple ghost — a Lar — glaring at them from the window of an apartment building. Another time she saw a white-robed woman — maybe a nymph or a goddess — holding a cool looking knife, slipping between ruined columns in a public park. Nothing attacked them, but Brooklyn felt like they were being watched, and the watchers were not friendly.

Finally they reached the Colosseum, where a dozen guys in cheap gladiator costumes were scuffling with the police — plastic swords versus batons. She wasn't sure what that was about, but she, Percy, and Annabeth decided to keep walking. Sometimes mortals were even stranger than monsters. ( As if Brooklyn should be saying this ).

They made their way west, stopping every once in a while to ask directions to the river. Brooklyn always forgot about the language barrier — and in these moments, she regrets not trying to learn a little bit of Italian. But that wasn't much of a problem. The few times someone approached them on the street and asked a question, Brooklyn just looked at them in confusion, as per usual, and they switched to English.

Next discovery: the Italians used euros, and Brooklyn didn't have any, because Annabeth had only brought her clothes onto the Argo II, not her wallet. She mentally cursed Annabeth as soon as she found a tourist shop that sold sodas. By then it was almost noon, getting really hot, and she was starting to wish she had a trireme filled with Diet Coke.

Annabeth solved the problem. She dug around in her backpack, brought out Daedalus's laptop, and typed in a few commands. A plastic card ejected from a slot in the side.

Annabeth waved it triumphantly. "International credit card. For emergencies."

"Ohmigosh I love you," Brooklyn tackled her into a hug, grinning.

Percy agreed, if his stare of amazement meant anything. "How did you—? No. Never mind. I don't want to know. Just keep being awesome."

The sodas helped, but they were still hot and tired by the time they arrived at the Tiber River. The shore was edged with a stone embankment. A chaotic assortment of warehouses, apartments, stores, and cafés crowded the riverfront.

The Tiber itself was wide, lazy, and caramel-colored. A few tall cypress trees hung over the banks. The nearest bridge looked fairly new, made from iron girders, but right next to it stood a crumbling line of stone arches that stopped halfway across the river — ruins that might've been left over from the days of the Caesars.

"This is it." Annabeth pointed at the old stone bridge. "I recognize that from the map. But what do we do now?"

Brooklyn smelled food. She gestured to a nearby café with tables overlooking the water. "Food," she demanded.

Even though it was noon, the place was empty. They picked a table outside by the river, and a waiter hurried over. He looked a bit surprised to see them — especially when they said they wanted lunch.

"American?" he asked, with a pained smile.

"Yes," Annabeth said.

"And I'd love a pizza," Percy said.