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LOOK, i didn't want to be a half-blood. If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advise is: get rich and run away, i mean, that's what i would do but running wouldn't last forever, they'll probably find you and kill you— just saying.
Or, you can take trashy percy advice: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mother or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life.
Being a half-blood isn't bad, it has its perks i would say, like this awesome ring-sword— okay, percy's taking over because i keep getting 'distracted.'
Being a half-blood is dangerous. 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 reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it's only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they'll come for you. Don't say i didn't warn you.
My name is Percy Jackson and that's my sister, Pandora Jackson.
We're both twelve years old. Until a few months ago, we were both boarding students at yancy academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.
Are we troubled kids?
Yeah. You could say that. we could start at any point in our short miserable lives 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 two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the metropolitan museum of art to look at ancient greek and roman stuff.
I know— it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were. But Mr. Brunner, our latin teacher, was leading this trip, so we had hopes.
Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and scruffy beard and frayed tweed, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me and buffy to sleep.
I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, i hoped for once me and pandora wouldn't get in trouble.
Boy, was i wrong.
See, bad things happen to us on field trips. Like at at our fifth-grade school, when we went to the saratoga battlefield, we had this accident with a revolutionary war cannon. We weren't aiming for the school bus— well, i wasn't anyway, But of course we got expelled anyway.
And before that, at our fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the marine world shark pool, and pandora pointed a lever on the catwalk and i sort of hit it and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that.. well, you get the idea.
