When we got outside the hotel, we spotted a newspaper machine and checked the date on the paper. It turned out we’d been in the hotel for four days.
“We only have twelve hours to get to LA!” Grover said.
“Ain’t gonna happen,” I said.
“Sure it will,” said Annabeth. “Just Uberer it.”
“Uberer?” I said
“You know how there’s Uber, that app that lets you pay for rides from people who have a car? Well Uberer is the same thing, but it lets you pay for rides from people who have an airplane. Watch.”
Annabeth took out her phone and told the Uberer app we needed a ride to LA and a driver that took Lotus Cash. Within seconds she got a bunch of hits back of people offering to give us a ride on their plane. She started going through the offers and deleting the ones with bad rider feedback. “Pilot drove like a maniac…Pilot played really loud sitar music…Pilot tried to make extra money by flying the long way around the Earth to get to Chicago…ah, here’s one with good reviews.” She selected the offer, and three minutes later a plane landed right beside us.
Annabeth and I boarded the plane, but the pilot stopped Grover when he tried to get on. “Sorry,” said the pilot. “All animals must travel in the cargo hold.”
We gave Grover a sweater so he wouldn’t freeze in the cargo hold, and the plane took off and headed for LA. With just me and Annabeth in the cabin, I was hoping she’d invite me to join the Mile High Kiss-Club. But instead, she wanted to have a serious conversation.
“Percy, be honest,” she said. “You have no intention of going to the Underworld and looking for the iPhone when we get to LA, do you?”
“What do you mean?” I said, even though I knew exactly what she meant.
“I’m not stupid,” she said. “I can see you still don’t believe in the gods.”
“How dare you question the existence of the gods like that!” I said, and made a thunder sound. “See? Now you’ve gotten them angry.”
“Percy, pretending you believe in the gods isn’t gonna make me any more likely to date you.”
“Fine, then I admit it: I don’t believe in them,” I said.
“But see, here’s the thing,” she said. “I think you do believe in them.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “I think the sugar overdose is affecting your brain.”
“Actually, it makes perfect sense,” she said. “You’ve seen more than enough to convince you that the gods are helping you out. A fart man who saves you from getting beat up? Hands made of mud that disarm your enemies? Bubbles that grow bigger than a swimming pool? Do you really think all these things are happening without any help?”
“Sure, there’s been help,” I said. “Help from the special effects team at Camp Half-Wit.”
“I know you don’t really believe that,” she said. “The truth is, you know that the gods exist, but you don’t want to admit it.”
“Oh really? And why’s that?”
“Because you’re scared of responsibility,” she said. “All your life you’ve slacked off and made excuses, rather than actually trying and challenging yourself. It’s easier to not try, because if you don’t try, you can’t fail, and more than anything else you’re afraid of being a failure.”
“Please,” I said, attempting to act like I didn’t secretly think she was right.
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “Your dad skipped out on your mom and it was entirely natural for you to blame yourself. You thought you somehow let your dad down. So you never wanted to let anyone down again.”
“Mayyyyybe,” I said. “But what does this have to with me believing in the gods?”
“If you were to admit that your dad is a god and that this quest is real, you’d risk letting him down if you fail,” said Annabeth. “And not just him. You’d also risk letting down your mom, because you think this quest could help bring her back to life. So it makes complete sense that you don’t let yourself believe in the gods. Because as soon as you start believing in them, you have to accept the risk of failure. But underneath it all, whether you admit it or not, you know they exist.”
As much as I hated to say it, Annabeth was right. Deep down, I did believe in the gods, and did know that Pooseidon was my father, and did think my mom could be saved and that it was up to me to save her.
“Annabeth,” I said, “you’re pretty smart and considerate and not insane for a really hot girl.”
“Only because I’m part-god,” she said. “It would never happen with a human. So are you in for the quest?”
“I’m in,” I said. “But do we really have to take Grover?”
She gave me a look.
“Just figured I’d ask,” I said.
An hour later we landed in Los Angeles. As the water-woman had instructed me, we headed to Santa Monica Beach and found the public bathroom. If you’ve been to Santa Monica Beach, you know the bathroom I’m talking about. It’s the one you try to avoid going into at all costs because it looks so disgusting.
“Percy, are you really sure you want to do this?” said Annabeth.
I knew I had no choice. I took a deep breath and walked inside.
“Psssst!” I heard coming from one of the stalls. I assumed whoever was in there wasn’t looking for me.
“Psssst! Percy!”
I guess they were looking for me. I opened the stall door, but no one was there.
“Down here!”
I looked in the toilet, and saw the face of the water-woman.
“Good to see you again, Percy,” she said.
“You too,” I said. “Although couldn’t we have just met for coffee?”
She laughed. “Not possible, unless there’s an underwater Starbucks.”
“Who are you?” I said.
“I am Stinkera, a water nymph who works for your father. I’ve been watching you for many years with great interest.”
Immediately I had a flashback to when I was a little kid, and I used to see smiling faces in the reflections of toilets I used. It was one of those weird things in my life I’d ignored at the time, but now it made much more sense.
“So why doesn’t my father ever come see me himself?” I said. “Would it really be that hard?”
“Do not judge the Lord of Passed Gas too harshly,” she said. “Do you know how many farts he has to oversee each day? In the United States alone, people eat over 20 million burritos daily.”
I could see that this would make my father busy. But still.
“It’d just be nice to see my dad once in a while,” I said.
“You will,” said Stinkera. “But for now, your father wanted me to pass on a message to you.”
“Really?” I said. “What is it?”
“Use the Lightning Fart.”
“The what?” I said.
“The Lightning Fart.”
“What’s a Lightning Fart?” I said.
“I’m not allowed to say any more,” she said. “Now I must go. But before I do, I have something for you.”
She pointed to the toilet paper dispenser, on which sat a toilet paper roll with only two pieces of toilet paper left on it.
“Take it,” she said. “When you’re in great need, tear off a piece and wipe yourself.”
“What’ll happen?” I said.
“Depends on the need,” she said. “I really have to leave now. Good-bye, young hero!”
“But wait, I have so many other questions!” I said. “Is Mom still alive? How do I save her? Where in the Underworld can I find Zeus’s iPhone?”
“You’ll figure it all out,” she said. “Just listen to your heart…and your fart.” She reached out of the water, flushed the toilet, and disappeared.
