The Sword of Summer (Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, #1)

by Rick Riordan

My name is Magnus Chase. I’m sixteen years old. This is the story of how my life went downhill after I got myself killed.

“You missed a pedestrian,” I said. “You want to go back and hit her?”

“All these years, it was so much closer than I realized. I just needed you!” “I’m definitely feeling the love.”

“YOU CAN’T DROP a bombshell like that and walk away!” I yelled as Randolph walked away.

“Yo!” I caught the sleeve of his cashmere coat. “Rewind to the part about a Norse god being my pappy.”

“Cool down, man. I have a corroded piece of metal and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Weakly, I raised my free hand. I flipped him a gesture that he wouldn’t need to know sign language to understand.

Stupid magical hotel wouldn’t even allow me to properly vandalize things.

My hands had come unclasped so I appeared to be giving everybody the finger.

Whenever I’m tempted to hug a dwarf, that’s usually a sign I need to move along.

“I’m blushing,” I grumbled. “Oh, no, wait. That’s the blood all over my face.”

The sword pulsed, almost like it was laughing. I imagined it saying, A pen sword. That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.