I GET A SNEAK PEEK AT MY DEATH

 

If you want to be popular at Camp Half-Blood, don't come back from a mission

with bad news.

 

Word of my arrival spread as soon as I walked out of the ocean. Our beach is on

the North Shore of Long Island, and it's enchanted so most people can't even see

it. People don't just appear on the beach unless they're demigods or gods or

really, really lost pizza delivery guys. (It's happened — but that's another

story.)

 

Anyway, that afternoon the lookout on duty was Connor Stoll from the Hermes

cabin. When he spotted me, he got so excited he fell out of his tree. Then he

blew the conch hom to signal the camp and ran to greet me.

 

Connor had a crooked smile that matched his crooked sense of humor. He's a

pretty nice guy, but you should always keep one hand on your wallet when he's

around, and do not, under any circumstances, give him access to shaving cream

unless you want to find your sleeping bag full of it. He's got curly brown hair

and is a little shorter than his brother, Travis, which is the only way I can

tell them apart. They are both so unlike my old enemy Luke it's hard to believe

they're all sons of Hermes.

 

"Percy!" he yelled. "What happened? Where's Beckendorf?"