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The Hidden Oracle

Book by Rick Riordan · 50 quotes · Apollo, Humor, Percy Jackson

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The Hidden Oracle Quotes

“Rachel crossed her arms. “And the other three Oracles? I’m sure none of them was a beautiful young priestess whom you praised for her…what was it?…‘scintillating conversation’?” “Ah…” I wasn’t sure why, but it felt like my acne was turning into live insects and crawling across my face. “Well, according to my extensive research—” “Some books he flipped through last night,” Meg clarified.”

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“I see you like to study,” I said. “Well done.” Percy snorted. “I hate to study. I’ve been guaranteed admission with a full scholarship to New Rome University, but they’re still requiring me to pass all my high school courses and score well on the SAT. Can you believe that? Not to mention I have to pass the DSTOMP.” “The what?” Meg asked. “An exam for Roman demigods,” I told her. “The Demigod Standard Test of Mad Powers.” Percy frowned. “That’s what it stands for?” “I should know. I wrote the music and poetry analysis sections.” “I will never forgive you for that,” Percy said.”

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“Oh, the middle third of the U.S.!” Leo spread his arms. “Piece of torta, then. We’ll just search the entire middle of the country!” “Still with the sarcasm,” Percy noted. “Hey, man, I’ve sailed with the most sarcastic scalawags on the high seas.” The two gave each other a high five, though I did not quite understand why. I thought about a snippet of prophecy I’d heard in the grove: something about Indiana. It might be a place to start….”

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“Can I have baby cows?” Meg asked. “Well, Meg,” I said, “first you would have to have some mommy cows. You see—” “Guys,” Percy interrupted. “So, just to recap, you have to be Meg’s servant for…?” “Some unknown amount of time,” I said. “Probably a year. Possibly more.” “And during that time —” “I will undoubtedly face many trials and hardships.” “Like getting me my cows,” Meg said. I gritted my teeth.”

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“Meg turned and gazed out the rear windshield, probably checking for any shiny blobs pursuing us. “At least we’re not being—” “Don’t say it,” Percy warned. Meg huffed. “You don’t know what I was going to—” “You were going to say, ‘At least we’re not being followed,’” Percy said. “That’ll jinx us. Immediately we’ll notice that we are being followed. Then we’ll end up in a big battle that totals my family car and probably destroys the whole freeway. Then we’ll have to run all the way to camp.” Meg’s eyes widened. “You can tell the future?” "Don’t need to.” Percy changed lanes to one that was crawling slightly less slowly. “I’ve just done this a lot.”

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“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!”

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“You do understand that I must find a way to return to Olympus,” I said. “This will probably involve many harrowing trials with a high chance of death. Can you turn down such glory?” “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can. Sorry.” I pursed my lips. It always disappointed me when mortals put themselves first and failed to see the big picture—the importance of putting me first—but I had to remind myself that this young man had helped me out on many previous occasions”

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“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.”

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“To call the place an anthill would be like calling the Versailles Palace a single-family home. Earthen ramparts rose almost to the tops of the surrounding trees--a hundred feet at least. The circumference could have accommodated a Roman hippodrome. A steady stream of soldiers and drones swarmed in and out of the mound. Some carried fallen trees. One, inexplicably, was dragging a 1967 Chevy Impala.”

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“Well,” I said, “you obviously have some power. You chased off those hooligans with rotten fruit. Perhaps you have banana-kinesis? Or you can control garbage? I once knew a Roman goddess, Cloacina, who presided over the city’s sewer system. Perhaps you’re related…?” Meg pouted. I got the impression I might have said something wrong, though I couldn’t imagine what.”

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“Look.” The others seemed confused. Then the glow became brighter: a holographic golden sickle with a few sheaves of wheat, rotating just above Meg McCaffrey. A boy in the crowd gasped. “She’s a communist!” A girl who’d been sitting at Cabin Four’s table gave him a disgusted sneer. “No, Damien, that’s my mom’s symbol.” Her face went slack as the truth sank in. “Uh, which means…it’s her mom’s symbol.”

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“You remind me of Iris,” I said. “She went organic vegan several decades ago.” Rhea made a face—just a ripple of disapproval before regaining her karmic balance. “Iris is a good soul. I dig her. But you know, these younger goddesses, they weren’t around to fight the revolution. They don’t get what it was like when your old man was eating your children and you couldn’t get a real job and the Titan chauvinists just wanted you to stay home and cook and clean and have more Olympian babies.”

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“Rachel put her hand over mine. “Things can turn out differently, Apollo. That’s the nice thing about being human. We only have one life, but we can choose what kind of story it’s going to be.” That seemed hopelessly optimistic. I had spent too many centuries watching the same patterns of behavior be repeated over and over, all by humans who thought they were being terribly clever and doing something that had never been done before. They thought they were crafting their own stories, but they were only tracing over the same old narratives, generation after generation. Still…perhaps human persistence was an asset. They never seemed to give up hope. Every so often they did manage to surprise me”

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“As soon as he was in range, I struck. I put all my wrath into that punch. It should have been enough to vaporize Mikey and leave a thug-shaped impression on the asphalt. Instead he ducked, which I found quite annoying. I stumbled forward. I have to say that when Prometheus fashioned you humans out of clay he did a shoddy job. Mortal legs are clumsy. I tried to compensate, drawing upon my boundless reserves of agility, but Mikey kicked me in the back. I fell on my divine face.”

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“Will put his hand on Nico's shoulder. "Nico, we need to have another talk about your people skills." "Hey, I'm just stating the obvious. If this is Apollo, and he dies, we're all in trouble." Will turned to me. "I apologize for my boyfriend." Nico rolled his eyes. "Could you not―" "Would you prefer special guy?" Will asked. "Or significant other?" "Significant annoyance, in your case," Nico grumbled”

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“Nico,” I said at last, “shouldn’t you be sitting at the Hades table?” He shrugged. “Technically, yes. But if I sit alone at my table, strange things happen. Cracks open in the floor. Zombies crawl out and start roaming around. It’s a mood disorder. I can’t control it. That’s what I told Chiron.” “And is it true?” I asked. Nico smiled thinly. “I have a note from my doctor.” Will raised his hand. “I’m his doctor.” “Chiron decided it wasn’t worth arguing about,” Nico said. “As long as I sit at a table with other people, like…oh, these guys for instance…the zombies stay away. Everybody’s happier.” Will nodded serenely. “It’s the strangest thing. Not that Nico would ever misuse his powers to get what he wants.” “Of course not,” Nico agreed.”

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