Percy looked at Coach Hedge and Frank. “A trap?”
“Probably,” Frank said.
“She’s not mortal,” Hedge said, sniffing the air. “Probably some kind of goat-eating, demigod-destroying fiend from Tartarus.”
“No doubt,” Percy agreed.
“Awesome.” Hedge grinned. “Let’s go.

Anybody have any money?”
Frank checked his pockets. “Three denarii from Camp Jupiter. Five dollars Canadian.”
Hedge patted his gym shorts and pulled out what he found. “Three quarters, two dimes, a rubber band and—score! A piece of celery.”
He started munching on the celery, eyeing the change and the rubber band like they might be next.

Save yourselves!” Percy warned. “It is too late for us!”
Then he gasped and pointed to the spot where Frank was hiding. “Oh, no! Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!”
Nothing happened.
“I said,” Percy repeated, “Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!”
Frank stumbled out of nowhere, making a big show of grabbing his throat. “Oh, no,” he said, like he was reading from a teleprompter. “I am turning into a crazy dolphin.”
He began to change, his nose elongating into a snout, his skin becoming sleek and gray. He fell to the deck as a dolphin, his tail thumping against the boards.
The pirate crew disbanded in terror.

Percy was getting tired of water.
If he said that aloud, he would probably get kicked out of Poseidon’s Junior Sea Scouts, but he didn’t care.

Down in the water, Octavian yelled, “Get me out of here! I’ll kill you!”
“Tempting,” Percy called down.

The meeting was like a war council with donuts. Then again, back at Camp Half-Blood they used to have their most serious discussions around the Ping-Pong table in the rec room with crackers and Cheez Whiz, so Percy felt right at home.