“I was wishing I'd bought some of that Camp Half Blood orange thermal underwear…"?!?!”

“I too had some of the ‘Indian’ things in my bags. A pressure cooker, Parle-G, Maggi, desi ghee, underwear (a lot of them), some more Maggi, shirts, pants, socks, thermal wear, jackets, chappals, soap, some more Parle-G and the list goes on and on.”

“Yeah, flattering." Percy raised Riptide. "But actually I`m the son of Poseidon. I`m from Camp Half-Blood.”

“As it was, I couldn't escape the feeling that I was out of my element. I found myself thinking of a book I'd left half-read at home and wishing I'd stuck it in my purse so I could pull it out now.”

“He had arrived at Camp Half-Blood thanks to Apollo. Now, on what would likely be his last day at camp, he was stuck with a son of Apollo.
‘Whatever,’ Nico said. ‘But we have to hurry. And you’ll follow my lead.”

“So, great. This is Camp…what do you call it? Camp Fish-Blood?”
Aphros frowned. “I hope that was a joke. This is Camp __________.” He made a sound that was a series of sonar pings and hisses.”

“There's blood, a taste I remember. It tastes of orange popsicles, penny gumballs, red licorice, gnawed hair, dirty ice.”

“Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood.”

“I'm half-Irish, half-Dutch, and I was born in Belgium. If I was a dog, I'd be in a hell of a mess!”

“In that moment, he chose Greek. He threw in his lot with Camp Half-Blood-and the horses changed. The storm clouds inside burned away, leaving nothing but red dust and shimmering heat, like mirages on the Sahara.”