first, but at least I got this cool car.â
âBut how does it work?â Nico asked. âI thought the sun was a big fiery ball of gas!â
Apollo chuckled and ruffled Nicoâs hair. âThat rumor probably got started because Artemis used to call me a big fiery ball of gas. Seriously, kid, it depends on whether youâre talking astronomy or philosophy. You want to talk astronomy? Bah, what fun is that? You want to talk about how humans think about the sun? Ah, now thatâs more interesting. Theyâve got a lot riding on the sun . . . er, so to speak. It keeps them warm, grows their crops, powers engines, makes everything look, well, sunnier. This chariot is built out of human dreams about the sun, kid. Itâs as old as Western Civilization. Every day, it drives across the sky from east to west, lighting up all those puny little mortal lives. The chariot is a manifestation of the sunâs power, the way mortals perceive it. Make sense?â
Nico shook his head. âNo.â
âWell then, just think of it as a really powerful, really dangerous solar car.â
âCan I drive?â
âNo. Too young.â
âOo! Oo!â Grover raised his hand.
âMm, no,â Apollo said. âToo furry.â He looked past me and focused on Thalia.
âDaughter of Zeus!â he said. âLord of the sky. Perfect.â
âOh, no.â Thalia shook her head. âNo, thanks.â
âCâmon,â Apollo said. âHow old are you?â
Thalia hesitated. âI donât know.â
It was sad, but true. Sheâd been turned into a tree when she was twelve, but that had been seven years ago. So she should be nineteen, if you went by years. But she still felt like she was twelve, and if you looked at her, she seemed somewhere in between. The best Chiron could figure, she had kept aging while in tree form, but much more slowly.
Apollo tapped his finger to his lips. âYouâre fifteen, almost sixteen.â
âHow do you know that?â
âHey, Iâm the god of prophecy. I know stuff. Youâll turn sixteen in about a week.â
âThatâs my birthday! December twenty-second.â
âWhich means youâre old enough now to drive with a learnerâs permit!â
Thalia shifted her feet nervously. âUhââ
âI know what youâre going to say,â Apollo said. âYou donât deserve an honor like driving the sun chariot.â
âThatâs not what I was going to say.â
âDonât sweat it! Maine to Long Island is a really short trip, and donât worry about what happened to the last kid I trained. Youâre Zeusâs daughter. Heâs not going to blast you out of the sky.â
Apollo laughed good-naturedly. The rest of us didnât join him.
Thalia tried to protest, but Apollo was absolutely not going to take ânoâ for an answer. He hit a button on the dashboard, and a sign popped up along the top of the windshield. I had to read it backward (which, for a dyslexic, really isnât that different than reading forward). I was pretty sure it said WARNING: STUDENT DRIVER.
âTake it away!â Apollo told Thalia. âYouâre gonna be a natural!â
Iâll admit I was jealous. I couldnât wait to start driving. A couple of times that fall, my mom had taken me out to Montauk when the beach road was empty, and sheâd let me try out her Mazda. I mean, yeah, that was a Japanese compact, and this was the sun chariot, but how different could it be?
âSpeed equals heat,â Apollo advised. âSo start slowly, and make sure youâve got good altitude before you really open her up.â
Thalia gripped the wheel so tight her knuckles turned white. She looked like she was going to be sick.
âWhatâs wrong?â I asked her.
âNothing,â she said shakily. âN-nothing is wrong.â
She pulled back on