PERCY JACKSON OLYMPIANS PDF
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 . Percy Jackson and the Olympians – Book 5. Rick Riordan. ONE. I GO CRUISING WITH. EXPLOSIVES. The end of the world started when a pegasus landed on. resourceone.info File Size: resourceone.info File Size:
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One to five is the original Percy Jackson and the Olympians series Where can I download Percy Jackson and the Olympians for free in PDF format?. Percy Jackson & the Olympians 01 The Lightning Thief · Read more · The Last Olympian (Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Book 5). Read more. Jackson & the Olympians The Lightning Thief! Throughout this kit you'll find fun event ideas and activities related to the Percy Jackson series and Greek.
Sleet and snow pounded the highway. Annabeth, Thalia, and I hadn't seen each other in months, but between the blizzard and the thought of what we were about to do, we were too nervous to talk much. Except for my mom. She talks more when she's nervous. By the time we finally got to Westover Hall, it was getting dark, and she'd told Annabeth and Thalia every embarrassing baby story there was to tell about me.
Thalia wiped the fog off the car window and peered outside. This'll be fun. It was all black stone, with towers and slit windows and a big set of wooden double doors. It stood on a snowy cliff overlooking this big frosty forest on one side and the gray churning ocean on the other. We'll be okay. I'm worried, Percy. It was bad enough I had to depend on my mom to drive me to my battles.
Her blond hair was tucked into a ski cap and her gray eyes were the same color as the ocean. She thinks Annabeth is the most levelheaded demigod ever to hit eighth grade. She's sure Annabeth often keeps me from getting killed. She's right, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Jackson," Thalia said.
You have my cell phone number? And a golden drachma in case you need to contact camp? We'll be fine. Come on, guys. If my mom told one more story about how cute I looked in the bathtub when I was three years old, I was going to burrow into the snow and freeze myself to death.
Annabeth and Thalia followed me outside. The wind blew straight through my coat like ice daggers. Once my mother's car was out of sight, Thalia said, "Your mom is so cool, Percy. You ever get in touch with your mom? Thalia was great at giving evil looks, what with the punk clothes she always wears—the ripped-up army jacket, black leather pants and chain jewelry, the black eyeliner and those intense blue eyes.
But the look she gave me now was a perfect evil "ten. I wonder what he found here that made him send the distress call.
The oak doors groaned open, and the three of us stepped into the entry hall in a swirl of snow. All I could say was, "Whoa. The walls were lined with battle flags and weapon displays: antique rifles, battle axes, and a bunch of other stuff.
I mean, I knew Westover was a military school and all, but the decorations seemed like overkill. My hand went to my pocket, where I kept my lethal ballpoint pen, Riptide. I could already sense something wrong in this place. Something dangerous. Thalia was rubbing her silver bracelet, her favorite magic item. I knew we were thinking the same thing.
A fight was coming. Annabeth started to say, "I wonder where—" The doors slammed shut behind us. It sounded like dance music. We stashed our overnight bags behind a pillar and started down the hall. We hadn't gone very far when I heard footsteps on the stone floor, and a man and woman marched out of the shadows to intercept us.
They both had short gray hair and black military-style uniforms with red trim. The woman had a wispy mustache, and the guy was clean-shaven, which seemed kind of backward to me. They both walked stiffly, like they had broomsticks taped to their spines. I'd been so focused on getting to Grover and finding out what was wrong, I hadn't considered that someone might question three kids sneaking into the school at night. We hadn't talked at all in the car about how we would get inside. I said, "Ma'am, we're just—" "Ha!
You shall be eee-jected! He pronounced his J like in Jacques, He was tall, with a hawkish face. His nostrils flared when he spoke, which made it really hard not to stare up his nose, and his eyes were two different colors—one brown, one blue—like an alley cat's.
I figured he was about to toss us into the snow, but then Thalia stepped forward and did something very weird. She snapped her fingers. The sound was sharp and loud. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I felt a gust of wind ripple out from her hand, across the room. It washed over all of us, making the banners rustle on the walls. You remember: I'm Thalia.
And this is Annabeth and Percy. We're in the eighth grade. I didn't know what Thalia was thinking. Now we'd probably get punished for lying and thrown into the snow. But the man seemed to be hesitating. He looked at his colleague. Gottschalk, do you know these students?
Despite the danger we were in, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. A teacher named Got Chalk? He had to be kidding. The woman blinked, like someone had just woken her up from a trance. I believe I do, sir. What are you doing away from the gymnasium? You—" He stopped short when he saw the teachers. I, uh—" "What is it, Mr.
His tone made it clear that he detested Grover. These students live here. Of course, Dr. I just meant, I'm so glad they made… the punch for the dance! The punch is great. And they made it! Thorn glared at us. I decided one of his eyes had to be fake. The brown one? The blue one? He looked like he wanted to pitch us off the castle's highest tower, but then Mrs. Gottschalk said dreamily, "Yes, the punch is excellent. Now run along, all of you. You are not to leave the gymnasium again!
We left with a lot of "Yes, ma'ams" and "Yes, sirs" and a couple of salutes, just because it seemed like the thing to do. Grover hustled us down the hall in the direction of the music. I could feel the teachers' eyes on my back, but I walked closely to Thalia and asked in a low voice, "How did you do that finger-snap thing?
Hasn't Chiron shown you how to do that yet? Chiron was our head trainer at camp, but he'd never shown me anything like that. Why had he shown Thalia and not me?
Grover hurried us to a door that had GYM written on the glass. Even with my dyslexia, I could read that much. I gave him a big high five.
It was good to see him after so many months. He'd gotten a little taller and had sprouted a few more whiskers, but otherwise he looked like he always did when he passed for human—a red cap on his curly brown hair to hide his goat horns, baggy jeans and sneakers Easy PDF Creator is professional software to create PDF.
He was wearing a black T-shirt that took me a few seconds to read. I wasn't sure whether that was, like, Grover's rank or maybe just the school motto. Grover took a deep breath.
At least Nancy got packed, too. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears. I thought about his question, and shrugged. Brunner looked disappointed. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach.
The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Dodds, would you lead us back outside? Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. I told Grover to keep going. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go— intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything.
Brunner told me. And how your studies apply to it. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson. I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C— in my life.
No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better.
Percy Jackson and the Olympians 1 The Lightning Thief
And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly. I mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner took one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral. He told me to go outside and eat my lunch. The class gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.
Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.
Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing.
Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius.
Then, when I thought he was going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he said, "Can I have your apple? I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat.
I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. She'd hug me and be glad to see me, but she'd be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again.
I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel.
A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table. I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.
I tried to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper. A wave roared in my ears.
The Glass Castle: A Memoir by Jeannette Walls
I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me! Dodds materialized next to us. Some of the kids were whispering: All I knew was that I was in trouble again. As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc. Dodds turned on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester.
Dodds said. I pushed her. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for me. Dodds scared Grover to death. She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.
Underwood," she said. Dodds barked at me. I gave her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on. How'd she get there so fast? I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it.
The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things. I wasn't so sure. I went after Mrs. Halfway up the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He was looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr.
Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel. I looked back up. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.
Okay, I thought. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.
Percy Jackson and the Olympians: Book Five: The Last Olympian Worksheets and Literature Unit
But apparently that wasn't the plan. I followed her deeper into the museum. When I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section. Except for us, the gallery was empty. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods.
She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling. Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Something about the way she looked at the frieze, as if she wanted to pulverize it I did the safe thing. I said, "Yes, ma'am. It was evil. She's a teacher, I thought nervously.
It's not like she's going to hurt me. I said, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am. Confess, and you will suffer less pain. All I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book. Then the weirdest thing happened.
Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human.
She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons. Then things got even stranger. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.
THE LIGHTNING THIEF Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Book 1 Rick
Dodds lunged at me. With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes.
My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword. She snarled, "Die, honey! Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword. The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan.It was evil. She just rolled her eyes and turned away. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. He must've been held back several grades, because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin.
I went back outside. It was a sword—Mr. Annabeth sighed. I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan— twenty-eight mentalcase kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.
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