Percy Jackson and the Olympians: the lightning thief by Rick Riordan Page B

go home now." Annabeth frowned. "Don't you get it, Percy? You are home. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us."
    "You mean, mentally disturbed kids?"
    "I mean not human. Not totally human, anyway. Half-human."
    "Half-human and half-what?"
    "I think you know."
    I didn't want to admit it, but I was afraid I did. I felt a tingling in my limbs, a sensation I sometimes felt when my mom talked about my dad.
    "God," I said. "Half-god."
    Annabeth nodded. "Your father isn't dead, Percy. He's one of the Olympians."
    "That's ... crazy."
    "Is it? What's the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they've changed their habits in the last few millennia?"
    "But those are just—" I almost said myths again. Then I remembered Chiron's warning that in two thousand years, I might be considered a myth. "But if all the kids here are half-gods—"
    "Demigods," Annabeth said. "That's the official term. Or half-bloods."
    "Then who's your dad?"
    Her hands tightened around the pier railing. I got the feeling I'd just trespassed on a sensitive subject.
    "My dad is a professor at West Point," she said. "I haven't seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history."
    "He's human."
    "What? You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?"
    "Who's your mom, then?"
    "Cabin six."
    "Meaning?"
    Annabeth straightened. "Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle." Okay, I thought. Why not?
    "And my dad?"
    "Undetermined," Annabeth said, "like I told you before. Nobody knows."
    "Except my mother. She knew."
    "Maybe not, Percy. Gods don't always reveal their identities."
    "My dad would have. He loved her."
    Annabeth gave me a cautious look. She didn't want to burst my bubble. "Maybe you're right. Maybe he'll send a sign. That's the only way to know for sure: your father has to send you a sign claiming you as his son. Sometimes it happens.
    "You mean sometimes it doesn't?"
    Annabeth ran her palm along the rail. "The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don't always ... Well, sometimes they don't care about us, Percy. They ignore us." I thought about some of the kids I'd seen in the Hermes cabin, teenagers who looked sullen and depressed, as if they were waiting for a call that would never come. I'd known kids like that at Yancy Academy, shuffled off to boarding school by rich parents who didn't have the time to deal with them. But gods should behave better.
    "So I'm stuck here," I said. "That's it? For the rest of my life?"
    "It depends," Annabeth said. "Some campers only stay the summer. If you're a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you're probably not a real powerful force. The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world the rest of the year. But for some of us, it's too dangerous to leave. We're year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they'll ignore us until we're old enough to cause trouble—about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they get killed off. A few manage to survive in the outside world and become famous. Believe me, if I told you the names, you'd know them. Some don't even realize they're demigods. But very, very few are like that."
    "So monsters can't get in here?"
    Annabeth shook her head. "Not unless they're intentionally stocked in the woods or specially summoned by somebody on the inside."
    "Why would anybody want to summon a monster?"
    "Practice fights. Practical jokes."
    "Practical jokes?"
    "The point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm."
    "So ... you're a year-rounder?"
    Annabeth nodded. From under the collar of her T-shirt she pulled a leather necklace with five clay beads