Whenever Percy stopped by to see [Annabeth], she was so lost in thought that the conversation went something like this:Percy: 'Hey, how's it going?'Annabeth: 'Uh, no thanks.'. . .
If I had a camera," I said, "I'd take a picture of you every day. That way I'd remember how you looked every single day of your life." "I look exactly the same." "No, yo. . .
I love snow for the same reason I love Christmas: It brings people together while time stands still. Cozy couples lazily meandered the streets and children trudged sleds and chased snow. . .
Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the. . .