Character:
Annabeth Chase
Age: 12
Description: deep
tan, curly blond hair, athletic build, startling gray eyes
Likes: ambrosia,
nectar, studying battle strategies, preparing battle plans, sword fighting,
obstacle courses
Dislikes: people
who are lazy or irresponsible, minotaur’s, bullying, betrayal
Why We Love Her: Annabeth is one of the best female leads in a book series! She is wise, strong, fierce, and loyal. A girl who's straight-forward and who can kick some major butt, Annabeth makes sure to keep the boys in line. She's not afraid to run head long into a battle to protect the ones she cares about and is quick on her feet. We loved her growth throughout the series and her relationship with Percy.
SNEAK PEEK FROM THE LIGHTNING THIEF
When we were a
few feet away, Annabeth said, “Jackson, you have to do better than that.”
“What?”
She rolled her
eyes and mumbled under her breath, “I can’t believe I thought you were the one.”
“What’s your
problem?” I was getting angry now. “All I know is, I kill some bull guy—”
“Don’t talk like
that!” Annabeth told me. “You know how many kids at this camp wish they’d had
your chance?”
“To get killed?”
“To fight the
Minotaur! What do you think we train for?”
I shook my head.
“Look, if the thing I fought really was the
Minotaur, the same one in the stories . . .”
“Yes.”
“Then there’s
only one.”
“Yes.”
“And he died,
like, gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So . . .”
“Monsters don’t
die, Percy. They can be killed. But they don’t die.”
“Oh, thanks.
That clears it up.”
“They don’t have
souls, like you and me. You can dispel them for a while, maybe even for a whole
lifetime if you’re lucky. But they are primal forces. Chiron calls them
archetypes. Eventually, they re-form.”
I thought about
Mrs. Dodds. “You mean if I killed one, accidently, with a sword—”
“The Fur . . . I
mean, your math teacher. That’s right. She’s still out there. You just made her
very, very mad.”
“How did you
know about Mrs. Dodds?”
“You talk in
your sleep.”
“You almost
called her something. A Fury? They’re Hades’ torturers, right?”
Annabeth glanced
nervously at the ground, as if she expected it to open up and swallow her. “You
shouldn’t call them by name, even here. We call them the Kindly Ones, if we
have to speak of them at all.”
“Look, is there
anything we can say without it thundering?”
I sounded whiny, even to myself, but right then I didn’t care. “Why do I have
to stay in cabin eleven, anyway? Why is everybody so crowded together? There
are plenty of empty bunks right over there.”
I pointed to the
first few cabins, and Ananbeth turned pale. “You don’t just choose a cabin,
Percy. It depends on who your parents are. Or . . . your parent.”
She stared at
me, waiting for me to get it.
“My mom is Sally
Jackson,” I said. “She works at the candy store in Grand Central Station. At
least, she used to.”
“I’m sorry about
your mom, Percy. But that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about your other
parent. Your dad?”
“He’s dead. I
never knew him.”
Annabeth sighed.
Clearly, she’d had this conversation before with other kids. “Your father’s not
dead, Percy.”
“How can you say
that? You know him?”
“No, of course
not.”
“Then how can
you say—”
“Because I know you. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t
one of us.”
“You don’t know
anything about me.”
“No?” She raised
an eyebrow. “I bet you moved around from school. I bet you were kicked out of a
lot of them.”
“How—”
“Diagnosed with
dyslexia. Probably ADHD, too.”
I tried to
swallow my embarrassment. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Taken together,
it’s almost a sure sign. The letters float off the page when you read, right?
That’s because your mind is hardwired for ancient Greek. And the ADHD—you’re impulsive,
can’t sit still in the classroom. That’s your battlefield reflexes. In a real
fight, they’d keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that’s because you
see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular
mortal’s. Of course the teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters.
They don’t want you seeing them for what they are.”
“You sound like
. . . you went through the same thing?”
“Most of the
kids here did. If you weren’t like us, you couldn’t have survived the Minotaur,
much less the ambrosia and nectar.”
“Ambrosia and
nectar.”
“The food and
drink we were giving you to make you better. That stuff would’ve killed a
normal kid. It would’ve turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and
you’d be dead. Face it. You’re a half-blood.”
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