I concentrated hard and snapped my fingers. "You don't see the sword," I told the girl. "It's just a ballpoint pen." She blinked. "Um . . . no. It's a sword, weirdo.

Brother,” Artemis chided. “You do not help my Hunters. You do not look at, talk to, or flirt with my Hunters. And you do not call them sweetheart.

Tyson, Frank is a descendant of Poseidon." "Brother!" Tyson crushed Frank in a hug. Percy stifled a laugh. "Actually he's more like a great-great-...Oh, never mind. Yeah, he's your brother." "Thanks." Frank mumbled through a mouthful of flannel.

Monsters,' her dad said, a tear tracing his cheek. 'I live in a world of monsters.

[My mom's] funny that way, celebrating special occasions with blue food. I think it's her way of saying anything is possible. Percy can pass seventh grade. Waffles can be blue. Little miracles like that.

You're cute when you're worried, your eyebrows get all scrunched together.

"Yeah, flattering." Percy raised Riptide. "But actually I'm the son of Poseidon. I'm from Camp Half-Blood."