The Son of Neptune (The Heroes of Olympus, #2)

by Rick Riordan

Panda Pillow Pet (as seen on TV),

Percy’s throat constricted. “You added your blood to the Cheese ’n’ Wieners?”

Percy groaned. He wanted to lie there and pass out, but he had to keep moving.

He sounded pretty worried.

He feared that if he spoke about that memory to anyone, it would evaporate like a dream. He couldn’t risk that.

He felt awkward, depending on an eighth-grade girl he barely knew for comfort, but he was glad she was there.

He looked like a scarecrow wearing a bed sheet.

He had a crooked smile and a slightly crazy look in his eyes, like he’d just been playing an intense video game. In one hand he held a knife. In the other hand was something like a dead animal. That didn’t make him look any less crazy.

Octavian’s eyes glittered with harsh curiosity, like he might gut Percy just as easily as a teddy bear if he thought he could learn something from it.

Octavian narrowed his eyes. “You seem nervous.” “You remind me of someone,” Percy said. “I can’t remember who.”

The Greek has arrived. Or possibly: The goose has cried. I’m thinking the first interpretation is correct. You seek to join the legion?”

HAZEL FELT LIKE SHE’D JUST INTRODUCED two nuclear bombs. Now she was waiting to see which one exploded first.

Hazel got the feeling her brother was nervous that more of Percy’s memory might come back.

Happy birthday. Go draw a picture. See you in another thirteen years.

Nico froze. “Right. Sorry. It’s just…jeez. That thing is huge.”

The kids in the back rows craned their necks to see Percy. He raised his hand and said, “Hi.”

“Then I get killed along with you,” Hazel said. “Hungry? Let’s eat.”

Frank sighed. “He’s okay. He’s a son of Bacchus, the wine god. He’s got a drinking problem.”

Luckily for her, Frank spoke up: “I wish I was ADHD or dyslexic. All I got is lactose intolerance.”

Frank slapped Percy on the shoulder. “I love this guy. Come on, new friend. Let’s go chalk up my thirteenth defeat in a row!”

Strange things conspire when one tries to cheat fate.

FRANK HAD NEVER FELT SO SURE of anything, which made him nervous.

Part of their problem was Percy. He fought like a demon, whirling through the defenders’ ranks in a completely unorthodox style, rolling under their feet, slashing with his sword instead of stabbing like a Roman would, whacking campers with the flat of his blade, and generally causing mass panic.

Mars looked around, and noticed that everyone was still silently kneeling. “Oh, you can get up now. Any questions?”

Again, Frank waited for the god to strike him down, but Mars just grinned like they were two old buddies talking trash.

Mars sighed. “Two hundred Romans, and no one’s got a pen? Never mind!”

Frank looked at Percy with wide eyes. He mouthed: Can your sword do grenade form? Percy mouthed back, No. Shut up.

Octavian read the scroll. “This says, ‘Go to Alaska. Find Thanatos and free him. Come back by sundown on June twenty-fourth or die.’”

“Then make sure he gets the Mural Crown,” Mars demanded. “My kid, here!” he yelled at the legion, in case anyone hadn’t heard. Frank wanted to melt into the dirt.

PERCY SLEPT LIKE A MEDUSA VICTIM—which is to say, like a rock.

That was such a foreign concept to Percy, so not who he was, he almost couldn’t process the slur.

How’d you hold them off so long?” She pointed to the rock. “A big pile of schist.” “Excuse me?”

This giant was another child of Gaea—a creature of the earth so malevolent and powerful, he radiated his own gravitational field.

“Iris told us you were out here battling the basilisks by yourself, and we were like, What? We came as fast as we could. What happened?”

‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…’”

“‘Swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon.’”

“Those,” Frank said, “are the most disgusting spoils of war ever.”

“I’m going to throw up,” he said. “No, you’re not.” Mars snapped his fingers, and Frank’s queasiness disappeared. “Battle jitters. Happens to everybody.”

“Do not argue, boy,” she muttered. “Mars has been visiting me these last few days, keeping me company. He told me of your quest. Find Death in Alaska and release him. Do your duty.”

“They’re lying,” Percy muttered. “Yeah, I got that,” Frank agreed. “Go!”

The poor guy had just lost his grandmother and seen his house go up in flames. As far as Percy was concerned, shedding a few tears about something like that didn’t make you any less of a man, especially when you had just fended off an army of ogres that wanted to eat you for breakfast.

“Dude,” Percy said, “I could eat Prancer and Blitzen, too. I’m hungry.”