Losing a Battle Against the Toilet

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Frank's POV

Frank hated ding dongs. He hated snakes. And he hated his life. Not necessarily in that order. As he trudged up the hill, he wished that he could pass out like Hazel—just go into a trance and experience some other time.

Like before he got drafted for this insane quest, before he found out his dad was a godly drill sergeant with an ego problem. His bow and spear slapped against his back.

He hated the spear, too. The moment he got it, he silently swore he'd never use it. A real man's weapon—Mars was a moron. Maybe there had been a mix-up. Wasn't there some sort of DNA test for gods' kids?

Perhaps the godly nursery had accidentally switched Frank with one of Mars's buff little bully babies. No way would Frank's mother have gotten involved with that blustering war god.

'She was a natural warrior,' Grandmother's voice argued. 'It is no surprise a god would fall in love with her, given our family. Ancient blood. The blood of princes and heroes.' Frank shook the thought out of his head.

He was no prince or hero. He was a lactose-intolerant klutz, who couldn't even protect his friend from getting kidnapped by wheat. His new medals felt cold against his chest: the centurion's crescent, the Mural Crown.

He should've been proud of them, but he felt like he'd only gotten them because his dad had bullied Reyna. Frank didn't know how his friends could stand to be around him. Percy had made it clear that he hated Mars, and Frank couldn't blame him.

Hazel kept watching Frank out of the corner of her eye, like she was afraid he might turn into a muscle-bound freak. Frank looked down at his body and sighed. Correction: even more of a muscle-bound freak.

Then there was (Y/N), every time Frank looked at the guy he felt as though he was guilty of a crime, that (Y/N) was about to slap handcuffs on him and then blow out his flame, it wasn't a fun feeling, and Frank thought Thanatos's stare must have been a thousand times worse.

If Alaska really was a land beyond the gods, Frank might stay there. He wasn't sure he had anything to return to. 'Don't whine,' his grandmother would say. 'Zhang men do not whine.' She was right. Frank had a job to do.

He had to complete this impossible quest, which at the moment meant reaching the convenience store alive. As they got closer, Frank worried that the store might burst into rainbow light and vaporize them, but the building stayed dark.

The snakes Polybotes had dropped seemed to have vanished. They were twenty yards from the porch when something hissed in the grass behind them. "Go!" Frank yelled. Percy stumbled. While Hazel helped him up, Frank turned and nocked an arrow.

(Y/N) turned around with him, and Frank saw his throw something, his dagger probably, there was a hissing noise that followed closely after that, but Frank couldn't tell if the blade made contact. "Darn" (Y/N) muttered, so Frank got his answer, and tried to help.

He shot blindly. He thought he'd grabbed an exploding arrow, but it was only a signal flare. It skidded through the grass, bursting into orange flame and whistling: WOO! At least it illuminated the monster.

Sitting in a patch of withered yellow grass was a lime-colored snake as short and thick as Frank's arm. Its head was ringed with a mane of spiky white fins. The creature stared at the arrow zipping by as if wondering, 'What the heck is that?'

Then it fixed its large, yellow eyes on Frank. It advanced like an inchworm, hunching up in the middle. Wherever it touched, the grass withered and died. Frank heard his friends climbing the steps of the store.

He didn't dare turn and run. He and the snake studied each other. The snake hissed, flames billowing from its mouth. "Nice creepy reptile," Frank said, very aware of the driftwood in his coat pocket. "Nice poisonous, fire-breathing reptile."

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