"Or land," Hazel added. She looked a little green, though Leo wasn't sure if that was from the rocking of the boat or from arguing.

Leo scanned the horizon. Nothing but ocean in every direction. That shouldn't have surprised him. He'd spent six months building a ship that he knew would cross the Atlantic. But until today, their embarking on a journey to the ancient lands hadn't seemed real. Leo had never been outside the U.S. before-except for a quick dragon flight up to Quebec. Now they were in the middle of the open sea, completely on their own, sailing to the Mare Nostrum, where all the scary monsters and nasty giants had come from. The Romans might not follow them, but they couldn't count on any help from Camp Half-Blood, either.

Leo patted his waist to make sure his tool belt was still there. Unfortunately that just reminded him of Nemesis's fortune cookie, tucked inside one of the pockets.

You will always be an outsider. The goddess's voice still wriggled around in his head. The seventh wheel.

Forget her, Leo told himself. Concentrate on the stuff you can fix.

He turned to Annabeth. "Did you find the map you wanted?"

She nodded, though she looked pale. Leo wondered what she'd seen at Fort Sumter that could have shaken her up so badly.

"I'll have to study it," she said, as if that was the end of the subject. "How far are we from those coordinates?"

"At top rowing speed, about an hour," Leo said. "Any idea what we're looking for?"

"No," she admitted. "Percy?"

Percy raised his head. His green eyes were bloodshot and droopy. "The Nereid said Chiron's brothers were there, and they'd want to hear about that aquarium in Atlanta. I don't know what she meant, but..." He paused, like he'd used up all his energy saying that much. "She also warned me to be careful. Keto, the goddess at the aquarium: she's the mother of sea monsters. She might be stuck in Atlanta, but she can still send her children after us. The Nereid said we should expect an attack."

"Wonderful," Frank muttered.

Jason tried to stand, which wasn't a good idea. Piper grabbed him to keep him from falling over, and he slid back down the mast.

"Can we get the ship aloft?" he asked. "If we could fly-"

"That'd be great," Leo said. "Except Festus tells me the port aerial stabilizer got pulverized when the ship raked against the dock at Fort Sumter."

"We were in a hurry," Annabeth said. "Trying to save you."

"And saving me is a very noble cause," Leo agreed. "I'm just saying, it'll take some time to fix. Until then, we're not flying anywhere."

Percy flexed his shoulders and winced. "Fine with me. The sea is good."

"Speak for yourself." Hazel glanced at the evening sun, which was almost to the horizon. "We need to go fast. We've burned another day, and Nico only has three more left."

"We can do it," Leo promised. He hoped Hazel had forgiven him for not trusting her brother (hey, it had seemed like a reasonable suspicion to Leo), but he didn't want to reopen that wound. "We can make it to Rome in three days-assuming, you know, nothing unexpected happens."

Frank grunted. He looked like he was still working on that bulldog transformation. "Is there any good news?"

"Actually, yes," Leo said. "According to Festus, our flying table, Buford, made it back safely while we were in Charleston, so those eagles didn't get him. Unfortunately, he lost the laundry bag with your pants."

"Dang it!" Frank barked, which Leo figured was probably severe profanity for him.

No doubt Frank would've cursed some more-busting out the golly gees and the gosh darns-but Percy interrupted by doubling over and groaning.

"Did the world just turn upside down?" he asked.

Jason pressed his hands to his head. "Yeah, and it's spinning. Everything is yellow. Is it supposed to be yellow?"

Annabeth and Piper exchanged concerned looks.

"Summoning that storm really sapped your strength," Piper told the boys. "You've got to rest."

Annabeth nodded agreement. "Frank, can you help us get the guys belowdecks?"

Frank glanced at Leo, no doubt reluctant to leave him alone with Hazel.

"It's fine, man," Leo said. "Just try not to drop them on the way down the stairs."

Once the others were below, Hazel and Leo faced each other awkwardly. They were alone except for Coach Hedge, who was back on the quarterdeck singing the Pokemon theme song. The coach had changed the words to: Gotta Kill 'Em All, and Leo really didn't want to know why.

The song didn't seem to help Hazel's nausea.

"Ugh..." She leaned over and hugged her sides. She had nice hair-frizzy and golden brown like curls of cinnamon. Her hair reminded Leo of a place in Houston that made excellent churros. The thought made him hungry.

"Don't lean over," he advised. "Don't close your eyes. It makes the queasiness worse."

"It does? Do you get seasick too?"

"Not seasick. But cars make me nauseous, and..."

He stopped himself. He wanted to say talking to girls, but he decided to keep that to himself.

"Cars?" Hazel straightened with difficulty. "You can sail a ship or fly a dragon, but cars make you sick?"

"I know, right?" Leo shrugged. "I'm special that way. Look, keep your eyes on the horizon. That's a fixed point. It'll help."

Hazel took a deep breath and stared into the distance. Her eyes were lustrous gold, like the copper and bronze disks inside Festus's mechanical head.

"Any better?" he asked.

"Maybe a little." She sounded like she was just being polite. She kept her eyes on the horizon, but Leo got the feeling she was gauging his mood, considering what to say.

"Frank didn't drop you on purpose," she said. "He's not like that. He's just a little clumsy sometimes."

"Oops," Leo said, in his best Frank Zhang voice. "Dropped Leo into a squad of enemy soldiers. Dang it!"

Hazel tried to suppress a smile. Leo figured smiling was better than throwing up.

"Go easy on him," Hazel said. "You and your fireballs make Frank nervous."

"The guy can turn into an elephant, and I make him nervous?"

Hazel kept her eyes on the horizon. She didn't look quite so queasy, despite the fact that Coach Hedge was still singing his Pokemon song at the helm.

"Leo," she said, "about what happened at the Great Salt Lake..."

Here it comes, Leo thought.

He remembered their meeting with the revenge goddess Nemesis. The fortune cookie in his tool belt started to feel heavier. Last night, as they flew from Atlanta, Leo had lain in his cabin and thought about how angry he'd made Hazel. He had thought about ways he could make it right.

Soon you will face a problem you cannot solve, Nemesis had said, though I could help you...for a price.

Leo had taken the fortune cookie out of his tool belt and turned it in his fingers, wondering what price he would have to pay if he broke it open.

Maybe now was the moment.

"I'd be willing," he told Hazel. "I could use the fortune cookie to find your brother."

Hazel looked stunned. "What? No! I mean...I'd never ask you to do that. Not after what Nemesis said about the horrible cost. We barely know each other!"

The barely know each other comment kind of hurt, though Leo knew it was true.

"So...that's not what you wanted to talk about?" he asked. "Uh, did you want to talk about the holding-hands-on-the-boulder moment? Because-"

"No!" she said quickly, fanning her face in that cute way she did when she was flustered. "No, I was just thinking about the way you tricked Narcissus and those nymphs..."

"Oh, right." Leo glanced self-consciously at his arm. The HOT STUFF tattoo hadn't completely faded. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You were amazing," Hazel said. "I've been mulling it over, how much you reminded me of-"

"Sammy," Leo guessed. "I wish you'd tell me who he is."

"Who he was," Hazel corrected. The evening air was warm, but she shivered. "I've been thinking...I might be able to show you."

"You mean like a photo?"

"No. There's a sort of flashback that happens to me. I haven't had one in a long time, and I've never tried to make one happen on purpose. But I shared one with Frank once, so I thought..."

Hazel locked eyes with him. Leo started to feel jittery, like he'd been injected with coffee. If this flashback was something Frank had shared with Hazel...well, either Leo didn't want any part of it, or he definitely wanted to try it. He wasn't sure which.

"When you say flashback..." He swallowed. "What exactly are we talking about? Is it safe?"

Hazel held out her hand. "I wouldn't ask you to do this, but I'm sure it's important. It can't be a coincidence we met. If this works, maybe we can finally understand how we're connected."

Leo glanced back at the helm. He still had a nagging suspicion he'd forgotten something, but Coach Hedge seemed to be doing fine. The sky ahead was clear. There was no sign of trouble.

Besides, a flashback sounded like a pretty brief thing. It couldn't hurt to let the coach be in charge for a few more minutes, could it?

"Okay," he relented. "Show me."

He took Hazel's hand, and the world dissolved.

They stood in the courtyard of an old compound, like a monastery. Red brick walls were overgrown with vines. Big magnolia trees had cracked the pavement. The sun beat down, and the humidity was about two hundred percent, even stickier than in Houston. Somewhere nearby, Leo smelled fish frying. Overhead, the cloud cover was low and gray, striped like a tiger's pelt.

The courtyard was about the size of a basketball court. An old deflated football sat in one corner, at the base of a Virgin Mary statue.

Along the sides of the buildings, windows were open. Leo could see flickers of movement inside, but it was eerily quiet. He saw no sign of air conditioning, which meant it must have been a thousand degrees in there.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"My old school," Hazel said next to him. "St. Agnes Academy for Colored Children and Indians."

"What kind of name-?"

He turned toward Hazel and yelped. She was a ghost-just a vaporous silhouette in the steamy air. Leo looked down and realized his own body had turned to mist too.

Everything around him seemed solid and real, but he was a spirit. After having been possessed by an eidolon three days ago, he didn't appreciate the feeling.

Before he could ask questions, a bell rang inside: not a modern electronic sound, but the old-fashioned buzz of a hammer on metal.

"This is a memory," Hazel said, "so no one will see us. Look, here we come."

"We?"

From every door, dozens of children spilled into the courtyard, yelling and jostling each other. They were mostly African American, with a sprinkling of Hispanic-looking kids, as young as kindergartners and as old as high schoolers. Leo could tell this was in the past, because all the girls wore dresses and buckled leather shoes. The boys wore white collared shirts and pants held up by suspenders. Many wore caps like horse jockeys wear. Some kids carried lunches. Many didn't. Their clothes were clean, but worn and faded. Some had holes in the knees of their trousers, or shoes with the heels coming apart.

A few of the girls began playing jump rope with an old piece of clothesline. The older guys tossed a ratty baseball back and forth. Kids with lunches sat together and ate and chatted.

No one paid Ghost Hazel or Leo any attention.

Then Hazel-Hazel from the past-stepped into the courtyard. Leo recognized her with no problem, though she looked about two years younger than now. Her hair was pinned back in a bun. Her gold eyes darted around the courtyard uneasily. She wore a dark dress, unlike the other girls in their white cotton or pastel flowery prints, so she stood out like a mourner at a wedding.

She gripped a canvas lunch bag and moved along the wall, as if trying hard not to be noticed.

It didn't work. A boy called out, "Witch girl!" He lumbered toward her, backing her into a corner. The boy could have been fourteen or nineteen. It was hard to tell because he was so big and tall, easily the largest guy on the playground. Leo figured he'd been held back a few times. He wore a dirty shirt the color of grease rags, threadbare wool trousers (in this heat, they couldn't have been comfortable), and no shoes at all. Maybe the teachers were too terrified to insist that this kid wear shoes, or maybe he just didn't have any.

"That's Rufus," said Ghost Hazel with distaste.

"Seriously? No way his name is Rufus," Leo said.

"Come on," said Ghost Hazel. She drifted toward the confrontation. Leo followed. He wasn't used to drifting, but he'd ridden a Segway once and it was kind of like that. He simply leaned in the direction he wanted to go and glided along.

The big kid Rufus had flat features, as if he spent most of his time face-planting on the sidewalk. His hair was cut just as flat on top, so miniature airplanes could've used it for a landing strip.

Rufus thrust out his hand. "Lunch."

Hazel from the past didn't protest. She handed over her canvas bag like this was an everyday occurrence.

A few older girls drifted over to watch the fun. One giggled at Rufus. "You don't want to eat that," she warned. "It's probably poison."

"You're right," Rufus said. "Did your witch mom make this, Levesque?"

"She's not a witch," Hazel muttered.

Rufus dropped the bag and stepped on it, smashing the contents under his bare heel. "You can have it back. I want a diamond, though. I hear your momma can make those out of thin air. Gimme a diamond."