The Lightning Thief By Rick Riordan

The Lightning Thief By Rick Riordan
The Lightning Thief is a 2005 fantasy-adventure novel based on Greek mythology, the first young adult novel written by Rick Riordan. It is the first novel in the Percy Jackson & the Olympians series, which charts the adventures of modern-day twelve-year-old Percy Jackson as he discovers he is ademigod, the son of a mortal woman and the Greek god Poseidon. Percy and his friends go on a quest to prevent a war between the gods Zeus, Poseidon and Hades.
Riordan finished writing his manuscript in 1994. The Lightning Thief was sold at auction to Miramax Books July 28, 2005. The book has sold over 1.2 million copies in the subsequent four years, appearing on The New York Times children's Best Seller list and being listed as one of the Young Adult Library Services Association's Best Books for Young Adults, among other awards. It was adapted into a film named Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief which was released in the United States on February 12, 2010. The sequel to this novel is The Sea of Monsters.

From the book
Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood.
If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right
now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal
Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful,
nasty ways.
If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think it's fiction, great. Read on. I envy you
for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.
But if you recognize yourself in these pages—if you feel something stirring inside—stop
reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it's only a matter of time
before they sense it too, and they'll come for you.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
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.
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.
I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.
But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.
Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a
scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think
he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this
awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't
put me to sleep.
I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.
Boy, was I wrong.
See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to
the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for
the school bus, but of course I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school,
when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong
lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that... Well, you
get the idea.

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