The Lightning Thief

quest.”
    “This must be reported to Olympus,” Chiron murmured. “I will go at once.”
    “Luke is out there right now,” I said. “I have to go after him.”
    Chiron shook his head. “No, Percy. The gods—”
    “Won’t even talk about Kronos,” I snapped. “Zeus declared the matter closed!”
    “Percy, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren’t ready.”
    I didn’t like it, but part of me suspected Chiron was right. One look at my hand, and I knew I wasn’t going to be sword fighting any time soon. “Chiron . . . your prophecy from the Oracle . . . it was about Kronos, wasn’t it? Was I in it? And Annabeth?”
    Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. “Percy, it isn’t my place—”
    “You’ve been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven’t you?”
    His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. “You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I’m right about the path ahead of you . . .”
    Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows.
    “All right!” Chiron shouted. “Fine!”
    He sighed in frustration. “The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing.”
    “We can’t just sit back and do nothing,” I said.
    “ We will not sit back,” Chiron promised. “But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come.”
    “Assuming I live that long.”
    Chiron put his hand on my ankle. “You’ll have to trust me, Percy. You will live. But first you must decide your path for the coming year. I cannot tell you the right choice. . . .” I got the feeling that he had a very definite opinion, and it was taking all his willpower not to advise me. “But you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for seventh grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision.”
    I wanted to protest. I wanted to ask him more questions. But his expression told me there could be no more discussion; he had said as much as he could.
    “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Chiron promised. “Argus will watch over you.”
    He glanced at Annabeth. “Oh, and, my dear . . . whenever you’re ready, they’re here.”
    “Who’s here?” I asked.
    Nobody answered.
    Chiron rolled himself out of the room. I heard the wheels of his chair clunk carefully down the front steps, two at a time.
    Annabeth studied the ice in my drink.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked her.
    “Nothing.” She set the glass on the table. “I . . . just took your advice about something. You . . . um . . . need anything?”
    “Yeah. Help me up. I want to go outside.”
    “Percy, that isn’t a good idea.”
    I slid my legs out of bed. Annabeth caught me before I could crumple to the floor. A wave of nausea rolled over me.
    Annabeth said, “I told you . . .”
    “I’m fine,” I insisted. I didn’t want to lie in bed like an invalid while Luke was out there planning to destroy the Western world.
    I managed a step forward. Then another, still leaning heavily on Annabeth. Argus followed us outside, but he kept his distance.
    By the time we reached the porch, my face was beaded with sweat. My stomach had twisted into knots. But I had managed to make it all the way to the railing.
    It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun.
    “What are you going to do?” Annabeth asked me.
    “I don’t know.”
    I told her I got the feeling Chiron wanted me to stay year-round, to put in more individual training time, but I wasn’t sure that’s what I wanted. I admitted I’d feel bad about leaving her alone, though, with only Clarisse for company. . . .
    Annabeth pursed her lips, then said quietly, “I’m going home for the year, Percy.”
    I stared at her. “You mean, to your dad’s?”
    She pointed toward the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Next to Thalia’s pine tree, at the very edge of the camp’s magical boundaries, a family stood silhouetted—two little children, a woman, and a tall man with blond hair. They seemed to be waiting. The man was holding a backpack that looked like the one Annabeth had gotten