Percy Jackson. Book 1. The Lightning Thief

but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel

“Food!” Grover moaned, a little louder.

I shook his furry hip, thinking, No! Even if you are half barnyard animal, you’re my best friend and I don’t want you to die!

“Whoa. You said ‘you.’”

“When I get back next summer,” she said, “we’ll hunt down Luke. We’ll ask for a quest, but if we don’t get approval, we’ll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?”

“Sounds like a plan worthy of Athena.”

One master bolt delivered. One helm of darkness back on Hades’s oily head.

“a huge step forward in super-ugly neorealism.”

“Brave to the point of indigestion.

Annabeth’s shroud was so beautiful—gray silk with embroidered owls—I told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched me and told me to shut up.

“You did well, Perseus. Do not misunderstand me. Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are a true son of the Sea God.”