Rick Riordan

It was bad enough I had to depend on my mom to drive me to my battles.

“Wow,” Thalia muttered. “Apollo is hot.”

“He's the sun god,” I said.

“That's not what I meant.”

June chuckled. “All roads lead there, child. You should know that.”

“Detention?” Percy asked.

Gods of Olympus, she’s beautiful, Frank thought

“Can’t make it,” Briares huffed.

“Tyson is risking his life to help you!” I yelled at him. “You will make it.”

But rumour has it that Camp Half-Blood actually exists, and Rick spends his summers there recording the adventures of young demigods. Some believe that, to avoid a mass panic among the mortal population, he was forced to swear on the River Styx to present Percy Jackson’s story as fiction.

My mom made blue waffles and blue eggs for breakfast. She’s funny that way, celebrating special occasions with blue food. I think it’s her way of saying anything is possible.

Young people don’t always do what they’re told, but if they can pull it off and do something wonderful, sometimes they escape punishment.

Well then, Seaweed Brain? What are you waiting for?

Well,” Luke said with a crooked smile. “If it isn’t my two favorite cousins. Come right in.”