The Last Olympian by Rick Riordan Page A

true.” Paul stared at me like he’d never seen me before. He was wearing his white bathrobe, now covered in hellhound fur, and his salt-and-pepper hair was sticking up in every direction. “All the talk about monsters, and being a demigod . . . it’s really true.”
    I nodded. Last fall I’d explained to Paul who I was. My mom had backed me up. But until this moment, I don’t think he really believed us.
    “Sorry about Mrs. O’Leary,” I said, “destroying the living room and all.”
    Paul laughed like he was delighted. “Are you kidding? This is awesome! I mean, when I saw the hoofprints on the Prius, I thought maybe. But this!”
    He patted Mrs. O’Leary’s snout. The living room shook— BOOM, BOOM, BOOM —which either meant a SWAT team was breaking down the door or Mrs. O’Leary was wagging her tail.
    I couldn’t help but smile. Paul was a pretty cool guy, even if he was my English teacher as well as my stepdad.
    “Thanks for not freaking out,” I said.
    “Oh, I’m freaking out,” he promised, his eyes wide. “I just think it’s awesome!”
    “Yeah, well,” I said, “you may not be so excited when you hear what’s happening.”
    I told Paul and my mom about Typhon, and the gods, and the battle that was sure to come. Then I told them Nico’s plan.
    My mom laced her fingers around her lemonade glass. She was wearing her old blue flannel bathrobe, and her hair was tied back. Recently she’d started writing a novel, like she’d wanted to do for years, and I could tell she’d been working on it late into the night, because the circles under her eyes were darker than usual.
    Behind her at the kitchen window, silvery moon lace glowed in the flower box. I’d brought the magical plant back from Calypso’s island last summer, and it bloomed like crazy under my mother’s care. The scent always calmed me down, but it also made me sad because it reminded me of lost friends.
    My mom took a deep breath, like she was thinking how to tell me no.
    “Percy, it’s dangerous,” she said. “Even for you.”
    “Mom, I know. I could die. Nico explained that. But if we don’t try—”
    “We’ll all die,” Nico said. He hadn’t touched his lemonade. “Ms. Jackson, we don’t stand a chance against an invasion. And there will be an invasion.”
    “An invasion of New York?” Paul said. “Is that even possible? How could we not see the . . . the monsters?”
    He said the word like he still couldn’t believe this was real.
    “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t see how Kronos could just march into Manhattan, but the Mist is strong. Typhon is trampling across the country right now, and mortals think he’s a storm system.”
    “Ms. Jackson,” Nico said, “Percy needs your blessing. The process has to start that way. I wasn’t sure until we met Luke’s mom, but now I’m positive. This has only been done successfully twice before. Both times, the mother had to give her blessing. She had to be willing to let her son take the risk.”
    “You want me to bless this?” She shook her head. “It’s crazy. Percy, please—”
    “Mom, I can’t do it without you.”
    “And if you survive this . . . this process ?”
    “Then I go to war,” I said. “Me against Kronos. And only one of us will survive.”
    I didn’t tell her the whole prophecy—about the soul reaping and the end of my days. She didn’t need to know that I was probably doomed. I could only hope I’d stop Kronos and save the rest of the world before I died.
    “You’re my son,” she said miserably. “I can’t just . . .”
    I could tell I’d have to push her harder if I wanted her to agree, but I didn’t want to. I remembered poor Ms. Castellan in her kitchen, waiting for her son to come home. And I realized how lucky I was. My mom had always been there for me, always tried to make things normal for me, even with the gods and monsters and stuff. She put up with me going off on adventures, but now I was asking her