The Last Olympian (Percy Jackson and the Olympians, #5)

by Rick Riordan

The cord, a familiar voice said. Remember your lifeline, dummy! Suddenly there was a tug in my lower back. The current pulled at me, but it wasn’t carrying me away anymore. I imagined the string in my back, keeping me tied to the shore. “Hold on, Seaweed Brain.” It was Annabeth’s voice, much clearer now. “You’re not getting away from me that easily.” The cord strengthened. I could see Annabeth now—standing barefoot above me on the canoe lake pier. I’d fallen out of my canoe. That was it. She was reaching out her hand to haul me up, and she was trying not to laugh. She wore her orange camp T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was tucked up in her Yankees cap, which was strange because that should have made her invisible. “You are such an idiot sometimes.” She smiled. “Come on. Take my hand.” Memories came flooding back to me—sharper and more colorful. I stopped dissolving. My name was Percy Jackson. I reached up and took Annabeth’s hand. Suddenly I burst out of the river. I collapsed on the sand, and Nico scrambled back in surprise. “Are you okay?” he stammered. “Your skin. Oh, gods. You’re hurt!” My arms were bright red. I felt like every inch of my body had been broiled over a slow flame. I looked around for Annabeth, though I knew she wasn’t here. It had seemed so real.