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

by Rick Riordan

I am judge, jury, and thief. And as far as obnoxious jerks went, I figured I couldn’t do better than Uncle Randolph.

“Myths are simply stories about truths we’ve forgotten.”

I started to dream, which was weird—not only because I was dead, but because I never dream. People have tried to argue with me about that. They say everybody dreams and I just don’t remember mine. But I’m telling you, I always slept like the dead. Until I was dead. Then I dreamed like a normal person.

It’s hard to describe her. To really understand Natalie Chase, you had to meet her. She used to joke that her role model was Tinker Bell from Peter Pan. If you can imagine Tinker Bell at age thirty-something, minus the wings, wearing flannel, denim, and Doc Martens, you’ve got a pretty good picture of my mom.

Okay, yes. My mom called me pumpkin. Go ahead and laugh. As I got older, it embarrassed me, but that was while she was still alive. Now I’d give anything to hear her call me pumpkin again.

That's how I feel about hearing Dad's voice again, even if what he said was super embarrassing.

“Yeah. Singular: einherji.” He said it like in-HAIR-yee. “We’re the chosen of Odin, soldiers in his eternal army. The word einherjar is usually translated as lone warriors, but that doesn’t really capture the meaning. It’s more like…the once warriors—the warriors who fought bravely in the last life and will fight bravely again on the Day of Doom. Duck.”

(Pro homeless tip: public libraries are safe havens. They have bathrooms. They hardly ever kick out kids who are reading as long as you don’t smell too bad or cause a scene.)

The sacrifice, the bravery has to be unplanned—a genuine heroic response to a crisis. It has to come from the heart, without any thought of reward.”

My hair was the same, a bit less grimy and tangled, but still hanging to my jawline in a curtain of dirty blond, parted in the middle. You look like Kurt Cobain, my mom used to tease me. I loved Kurt Cobain, except for the fact that he died. Well, guess what, Mom? I thought. I have that in common with him too now!

Nor could Hearth read lips very well on the move. I kind of liked that, actually. You couldn’t multitask while talking to him. The dialogue required one hundred percent focus. If all conversations were like that, I imagined people wouldn’t say so much stupid garbage.

“Don’t be silly,” Blitzen said. “Dwarves always carry emergency parachutes. Don’t you?” “We’ll talk about this later,” I said. “Right now—” “Girls?” called the giant from the next room. His speech sounded a little slurred. “Wh-where are you?”