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percabeth momentsThe Lightning Thief
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The last thing I remember is collapsing on a wooden porch, looking at a ceiling fan circling above me, moths flying around a yellow light, the stern faces of a familiar-looking bearded man and a pretty girl, her blond hair curled like a princess's. They both looked down at me, and the girl said, "He's the one. He must be."
She was probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. wither her deep tan and her curl blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.
She glanced at the minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. I imagined she was going to say, You killed a minotaur! or Wow, you're so awesome! or something lik