Rick Riordan
Rick Riordan
Richard Russell "Rick" Riordan, Jr. is an American author known for writing the Percy Jackson & the Olympians series, which is about a twelve-year-old who discovers he is a son of Poseidon. His books have been translated into 37 languages and sold more than 30 million copies in the US. Twentieth Century Fox has adapted the first two books of his Percy Jackson series as part of a series of films. His books have spawned related media, such as graphic novels...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionYoung Adult Author
Date of Birth5 June 1964
CountryUnited States of America
Laistry....I can't even say that. What would you call them in English?" "Canadians.
About the prophecy that Rachel did at the end of "The Last Olympian," Percy Jackson will participate this prophecy, along with Annabeth? Sorry for spelling errors
Don't untie me," she said, "no matter what happens or how much I plead. I'll want to go straight over the edge and drown myself." "Are you trying to tempt me?" "Ha-ha.
Well, actually it carried Cadmus. Europa fell off and died along the way, but that's not important.' It was probably important to her.
Tyson thought Annabeth was just about the coolest thing since peanut butter, and he SERIOUSLY loved peanut butter.
Red cattle," Annabeth said. "The cattle of the sun." "What?" I [Percy] asked. "They're sacred to Apollo." "Holy cows?
I know you'll do what's best for Annabeth." "How can you be sure?" "Because she'd do the same for you.
Why can't you place a blessing like that on us?" I asked. "It only works on wild animals." "So it would only affect Percy," Annabeth reasoned. "Hey!" I protested.
She (Annabeth) put her hand on my spine, and my skin tingled. I (Percy) moved her fingers to the one spot that grounded me to my mortal life. A thousand volts of electricity seemed to arc through my body.
Leo had wanted to paint a giant message on the bottom of the hull-WASSUP? with a smiley-face-but Annabeth had vetoed the idea.
Hephaestus glowered up at us. “I didn’t make you, did I?” Uh,” Annabeth said, “no, sir.” Good,” the god grumbled. “Shoddy workmanship.
I need to talk to Clarisse," Annabeth said. I stared at her as if she'd just said "I need to eat a large, smelly boot." "What for?
Tyson! Thank the gods, Annabeth is hurt!" "You thank the gods that she is hurt?" he asked, puzzled.
It's just Annabeth mom jeez!