![]() ![]() I’m sure I’d seen the statue before, but I’d never paid it much attention. Her dark hair fell in ringlets around her face. She held an open book in one hand like she was about to recite a poem. In the center of the room, under the ornate domed ceiling, a ten-foot-tall statue stood on a high pedestal. Even the transients or local teenagers who’d broken in over the years didn’t care enough to bother with the books-except to use them as tinder for fires. Nobody had even bothered to sell or give away the books. I had mixed feelings about this place, but whatever you thought of libraries, there was no denying that this one was sad. On the marble floor near the exit were the remnants of an old campfire. Judging from the piles of wrappers and cans, and the articles of old clothing strewn across the furniture, we weren’t the only ones who had discovered a way in. Others were torn and strewn around, smashed by muddy footprints. Some books formed piles in the corners like snowdrifts. Stacks of books marched off in all directions. I hadn’t been there since I was a little kid. My knees were weak as I climbed into the library’s main reading room. Sam pointed the light up at a door, then bowed and extended his arm. I cleared my throat, hoping my voice would come out strong. Maybe there was something heroic inside of me after all. As he hugged me, the flashlight cast weird shadows across the walls.īlood pumped in my ears and I could barely hear the squeaking anymore. Then…before I knew it, Sam’s backpack lifted as we stepped onto the opposite staircase. As my second foot reached the floor, I squeezed my eyes even tighter and focused on matching my breath to the shuffling of our feet. I followed, struggling to hold onto his bag, nearly tripping down the stairs. We both exhaled as Sam slowly stepped forward, sliding his feet along the floor underneath the squirming masses. “One…” said Sam, and I closed my eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “On three, okay?” said Sam, and I was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that I had a friend like him, someone who could literally get me to overcome my worst fears. ![]() I bit my lip and grabbed his bag, trying not to think about all those sharp little claws and weird naked tails and beady eyes. Hold onto my backpack,” he said, pulling it tight over both shoulders. ![]() ![]() Though the Greek and Roman crewmembers of the Argo II have made progress in their many quests, they still seem no closer to defeating the earth mother, Gaea.“I’m right here if anything happens,” said Sam. Her giants have risen-all of them-and they\'re stronger than ever. They must be stopped before the Feast of Spes, when Gaea plans to have two demigods sacrificed in Athens. She needs their blood-the blood of Olympus-in order to wake.The demigods are having more frequent visions of a terrible battle at Camp Half-Blood. The Roman legion from Camp Jupiter, led by Octavian, is almost within striking distance. Though it is tempting to take the Athena Parthenos to Athens to use as a secret weapon, the friends know that the huge statue belongs back on Long Island, where it "might" be able to stop a war between the two camps.The Athena Parthenos will go west the Argo II will go east. The gods, still suffering from multiple personality disorder, are useless. How can a handful of young demigods hope to persevere against Gaea\'s army of powerful giants? As dangerous as it is to head to Athens, they have no other option. In response to an awful camp orientation video created by the god Apollo, Percy Jackson and other residents of Camp Half-Blood answer such questions as “What is this place?” and “Do I get to keep the T-shirt?” Newbies can check out the section on the Divine Cabins, read up on Magical Landmarks, and consult the chapter of Training Arenas. But Camp Half-Blood Confidential explores much more than just the buildings and grounds. It includes info that can only be learned from those who live there.For instance, campers do not always co-exist in peace and harmony. The camp is not run with superior efficiency. Prophecies do not flow forth with great regularity. Sprinkled throughout are stories from heroes who have called Camp Half-Blood home or just passed through on their way to places unknown. ![]()
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