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
I thought she'd make some comment about the bloodthirsty gods chasing us, but when she finally found her voice, she said, "That boy kissed you!" Leave it to Liz to have her priorities straight.
Coach Hedge grunted like he was pleased to have an excuse. He unclipped the megaphone from his belt and continued giving directions, but his voice came out like Darth Vader's. The kids cracked up. The coach tried again, but this time the megaphone blared: "The cow says moo!
My glowing form was so heavy, its feet sank into the top of the tank. “Sekhmet!” I yelled. The lioness whirled and snarled, trying to locate my voice. “Up here, kitty!” I called. She spotted me and her ears went back. “Horus?” ‘Unless you know another guy with a falcon head.
Before I could do anything rash, a familiar voice behind me said, "Hello, Sadie." The other girls let out a collective gasp. My pulse quickened from "slow walk" to "fifty-meter-dash." I turned and found that-yes, indeed-the god Anubis had crashed our dance.
We speak with one voice,” Walt said. “Especially on this matter. No one hurts Sadie Kane.
The dead are hard to look at. Their faces shimmer. They all look slightly angry or confused. they will come up to you and speak, but their voices sound like chatter, like bats twittering. Once they realize you can't understand them, they frown and move away. The dead aren't scary. They're just sad.
Schist," said an angry voice from the grass. Hazel raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?" "Schist! Big pile of schist!
Frank imitated the voice of Vitellius: 'They're wimps! Back in my day, we died all the time, and we liked it!
I turned and faced the Olympians. "We need a shroud," I announced, my voice cracking. "A shroud for the son of Hermes.
Luke gazed at Annabeth. "You knew. I almost killed you, but you knew . . ." "Shhh." Her voice trembled. "You were a hero at the end, Luke.
Annabeth's voice caught on the word friend. Percy was a lot more than that. Even boyfriend really didn't cover it. They'd been through so much together, at this point Percy was part of her--a sometimes annoying part, sure, but definitely a part she could not live without.
I am Persephone" she said, her voice thin and papery. "Welcome, demigods. Nico squashed a pomegranate under his boot. "Welcome? After last time, you've got the nerve to welcome me?" I shifted uneasily, because talking that way to a god can get you blasted into dust bunnies. "Um, Nico-" "It's all right," Persephone said coldly. "We had a little family spat." "Family spat?" Nico cried. "You turned me into a dandelion!
Frank didn’t drop you on purpose,” she said. “He’s not like that. He’s just a little clumsy sometimes.” “Oops,” Leo said, in his best Frank Zhang voice. “Dropped Leo into a squad of enemy soldiers. Dang it!
When he woke, daylight was coming through the glass floor, and a boy's voice said, "Oh...You are in so much trouble.