I Still Don't Understand What A Sea

My Name Is Percy Jackson. I'm Twelve Years Old. Until A Few Months Ago, I Was A Boarding Student At Yancy Academy, A Private School For Troubled Kids In Upstate New York. Am I A Troubled Kid? Yeah. You Could Say That.

Most Problems Look Worse Than They Are. Nothing Is Unfixable.

Brother Dear,” I Said, “did Your Soul Leave Your Body While Amos Was Talking, Or Did You Actually Hear Him? Egyptian Gods Real. Red Lord Bad. Red Lord’s Birthday: Very Soon, Very Bad. House Of Life: Fussy Magicians Who Hate Our Family Because Dad Was A Bit Of A Rebel, Whom You Could Take A Lesson From. Which Leaves Us—just Us—with Dad Missing, An Evil God About To Destroy The World, And An Uncle Who Just Jumped Off The Building—and I Can’t Actually Blame Him.” I Took A Breath. [yes, Carter, I Do Have To Breathe Occasionally.]

I Pictured My Mom, Alone In Our Little Apartment On The Upper East Side. I Tried To Remember The Smell Of Her Blue Waffles In The Kitchen. It Seemed So Far Away.

Are You Crazy?" "probably