Eternity

Chapter 1

I ACCIDENTALLY VAPORIZE MY PRE-ALGEBRA TEACHER

"Oh no!"

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe what-ever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life. Being a half-blood is dangerous.

"No kidding" The demigods mutters.

The wixen just looks confused. What do they mean by half-blood? Many of the wixen there were half-blood.

It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think it's fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened. But if you recognize yourself in these pages-if you feel something stirring inside-stop readingimmediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it's only a matter of time before theysense it too, and they'll come for you. Don't say I didn't warn you.

My name is Percy Jackson.

Percy groaned and Anthea just started to laugh.

I'm twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a privateschool for troubled kids in upstate New York. Am I a troubled kid? 

"Yeah Percy are you?" The Stoll twins exclaimed.

Yeah. You could say that. I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan- twenty-eight mental-case kids and twoteachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greekand Roman stuff. I know-it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were. But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes. Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffybeard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, buthe told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Romanarmor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble. Boy, was I wrong. See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratogabattlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and ourclass took an unplanned swim. And the time before that... Well, you get the idea. This trip, I was determined to be good.

"Can you be good Percy?" Anthea smirked at her brother.

"Shut up Thea!"

Thea just snickered.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich. Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held backseveral grades, because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on hischin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his lifebecause he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, butdon't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

"Oh I'm mentioned!"

"Enchilada Grover" Thalia snickered at him.

Grover turned beet red.