The Lightning Thief (Percy Jackson and the Olympians, #1)

by Rick Riordan

But if you recognize yourself in these pages—if you feel something stirring inside—stop reading immediately. You might be one of us.

You should’ve seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

“Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan’s stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld.

I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson.”

But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn’t expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better.

But I was so mad my mind went blank. A wave roared in my ears. I don’t remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, “Percy pushed me!”

My lunch must’ve been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week.

You have his black hair, you know, and his green eyes.”

That night I had a vivid dream. It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse’s muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagle’s wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

“Safety from what? Who’s after me?” “Oh, nobody much,” Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. “Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions.”

We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES signs on white picket fences.

With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

“Poseidon,” said Chiron. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

“I’ve been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain,” she said. “Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you’re going to save the world, I’m the best person to keep you from messing up.” “If you do say so yourself,” I said. “I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?”

“The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into,” Chiron told me. “Its name is Anaklusmos.” “‘Riptide,’” I translated, surprised the Ancient Greek came so easily.

What I did next was so impulsive and dangerous I should’ve been named ADHD poster child of the year.

“Braccas meas vescimini!” I yelled. I wasn’t sure where the Latin came from. I think it meant “Eat my pants!”

“Always have a strategy, right?” “Your head is full of kelp.”

The Gods Mount Olympus 600th Floor, Empire State Building New York, NY With best wishes, PERCY JACKSON

“I am impertinent,” I said. I looked at Annabeth, daring her to criticize.

“Be honored, Percy Jackson. Lord Zeus rarely allows me to test a hero with one of my brood. For I am the Mother of Monsters, the terrible Echidna!”

I balled up my fists. “You’re pretty smug, Lord Ares, for a guy who runs from Cupid statues.” Behind his sunglasses, fire glowed. I felt a hot wind in my hair. “We’ll meet again, Percy Jackson. Next time you’re in a fight, watch your back.”

She put her head against the backpack Ares had given us, and closed her eyes. “I don’t know what my mom will do. I just know I’ll fight next to you.” “Why?” “Because you’re my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?”

I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass. I pretended not to see Annabeth wipe a tear from her cheek as she listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance, longing for his new friend.

What horrible things would you have to do in your life to get woven into Hades’s underwear?

“You have made an enemy, godling,” he told me. “You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Perseus Jackson. Beware.”

“Obedience does not come naturally to you, does it?” “No…sir.” “I must take some blame for that, I suppose. The sea does not like to be restrained.”

Still…I am sorry you were born, child. I have brought you a hero’s fate, and a hero’s fate is never happy. It is never anything but tragic.”

“You did well, Perseus. Do not misunderstand me. Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are a true son of the Sea God.”

Now that his sword wasn’t swirling around, I could see something odd about it. The blade was two different types of metal—one edge bronze, the other steel. Luke noticed me looking at it. “Oh, this? New toy. This is Backbiter.”