Annabeth Thalia and I hadn't seen each other in months but between the blizzard and the thought of what we were about to do we were too nervous to talk much. Except for my mom. She talks more when she's nervous. By the time we finally got to Westover Hall it was getting dark and she'd told Annabeth and Thalia every embarrassing baby story there was to tell about me.
I’ll be back with the sandwiches,” she said. “But I had some leftover seven-layer dip.”“Yum.” Percy dug in with a tortilla chip. “She’s kinda famous for this, guys.”Sally ruffled his hair. “There’s guacamole, sour cream, refried beans, salsa—”“Seven layers?” I looked up in wonder. “You knew seven is my sacred number? You invented this for me?”Sally wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, actually, I can’t take credit—”“You are too modest!” I tried some of the dip. It tasted almost as good as ambrosia nachos. “You will have immortal fame for this, Sally Jackson!
If I had still been an immortal, I might have flirted with her myself. But I was now a sixteen-year-old boy. My mortal form was working its way upon my state of mind. I saw Sally Jackson as a mom—a fact that both consternated and embarrassed me. I thought about how long it had been since I had called my own mother. I should probably take her to lunch when I got back to Olympus.