I don't want to be a biracial. If you are reading this book because you think you might be biracial, my advice to you is to close this book immediately!Also, regarding your life experience, you just believe the lies made up by your parents, and you have to work hard to live a normal life. Being a biracial is dangerous, and you have to worry about it all the time.Most of the time, this identity will only bring you a fatal disaster, and the methods used by the other party are absolutely dirty and indecent, guaranteed to make you extremely painful. If you are a normal child who only reads this book as a novel, then congratulations, please continue reading.I'm actually jealous of you because you believe these things are fake.

If you read a few pages down and recognize yourself, or even feel something churn inside you, stop reading immediately because...you might be one of us.Once you know about it, sooner or later they will feel it, and, well, they will come to you. Don't say I didn't warn you! My name is Percy· Jackson and I am twelve years old. A few months ago, I was a resident student at Yancy School, a private school for troubled students in upstate New York. So, am I a problem student? Well, so to speak. I can easily prove this. Although my bad life has only started for a few years, I can find a lot of proofs that I have problems wherever I start.However, worse things actually started in May this year.Our sixth grade class went to Manhattan to teach off-campus in May. There were 28 psychotherapy students and two teachers on the yellow school bus. They went to the Metropolitan Museum to see the ancient Greek and Roman cultural relics exhibition together.

I know, this sounds like torture, but Yancy's field trips are usually like that. This time, because Mr. Brunner, the Latin teacher, led the team, I still had a glimmer of hope. Teacher Brunner is a middle-aged man in an electric wheelchair.He has thinning hair and a scraggly beard and always wears a worn-out tweed jacket that smells of coffee.Don't think he's a cool guy, he's good at telling stories, telling jokes, and letting us play games in class.He also has a formidable collection of Roman armor and weapons, and the only time I don't doze off is in his classes. I'm praying that all goes well with this field trip, at least this time nothing happens so I don't get into trouble.

Guys, I was so wrong. See, bad things happen to me every time I teach outside school.Like when I went to visit the Saladoga battlefield in fifth grade, I had a bag accident with a cannon from the American Revolutionary War, and even though it missed the sight of the school bus, I was kicked out.Earlier, when I was in fourth grade, we went to SeaWorld for a shark keeper experience.I just accidentally touched the wrong joystick on the narrow passage, and our whole class was washed out.And before much earlier... Well, let me say, you should be able to imagine it. So this time I taught outside school, I decided to perform well.

The whole way downtown, I put up with Nancy Popophy, the freckled, red-haired kleptomaniac.He took a super thick sandwich with peanut butter and ketchup and smashed it on the back of my best friend Grover. Grover was an easy target because he was skinny and would cry when he was frustrated.He must have been repeated several times, because he was the only sixth grader with pimples on his face, a beard on his buttocks, and a limp.He had developed some muscular disease in his legs that kept him out of gym class for the rest of his life.He walks comically, cautiously, as if he's going to hurt with every step, but don't let that fool you, if the student cafeteria had enchiladas on the menu that day, you'd see him sprinting past.

Then again, Nancy Popeye was tossing a wad of sandwich, smack, right on Grover's curly brown hair.If he knows that I have nothing to do with her today, because I am still under observation.The headmaster threatened me with a tone of destroying me, saying that if I made any mistakes in this out-of-school teaching, if there was any embarrassment, or even if I was only funny, I would be suspended from class. "I'm going to kill him." I muttered. Grover tried to calm me down by saying, "It's okay, I like peanut butter." He deftly dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch,

"Enough." I stood up, but Grover pulled me back into my seat. "You're still on probation," he reminded me. "If something happens, you know who will be blamed." Looking back on it now, I wish I'd shot Nancy Popophy.Because getting suspended was nothing compared to the mess I was about to get myself into. Teacher Brunner led us to visit the museum. He was at the front, in a wheelchair, guiding us through the echoing grand showroom, past marble statues and glass cases filled with authentic pieces of ancient pottery in black and orange patterns. The cultural relics in front of me have existed for two or three thousand years, and I was deeply moved.

Mr. Brunner asked us to gather under a four-meter-high stone pillar with a personal sphinx on top.He told us that the pillar was a tombstone that belonged to a girl about our age, and told us the stories that were told on each side of the carving.I listened carefully to his explanation, it was really interesting.What's annoying is that everyone around me is talking, and every time I tell them to shut up, the other tutor, Ms Dawes, gives me a nasty look, Ms. Dawes is from Georgia. She hasn't been our math teacher for a long time. Although she is fifty years old, she always wears a black leather jacket. She looks very grumpy, as if she is about to ride a Harley into your belongings any time cabinet.He came to Yancy School in the middle of this year because our previous math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From the first day Mr. Dawes came here, he loved Nancy Popeye, and I was regarded by him as the offspring of the devil.He'd point his crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey..." Hearing that very sweet voice, I knew I'd have to stay after school this month. Once, she asked me to erase the answers in the old math workbook, and I didn't finish it until midnight.I told Grover that I don't think Mr. Dawes is human.He looked at me and said very seriously, "Exactly." Mr. Brunner continued to explain the Greek tomb art. Nancy Popophy chirped about the nudes on the pillars.I turned to her and said, "Can you shut up?"

My volume is louder than expected.Everyone laughed, and Mr. Brunner stopped telling the story. "Mr. Jackson," he said, "what do you think?" My face flushed.I said "no." Mr. Brunner pointed to a picture on the stone pillar and said, "Maybe you can tell us what this picture symbolizes?" I was relieved to see that picture because I actually recognized it. "Cronus is eating his baby." "That's right," Mr. Brunner was obviously dissatisfied, "Then, he did this because..." "Well," I racked my brains, "Cronus is the king of the gods, and..."

"Is it 'God'?" Teacher Brunner questioned. "Oh, the king of the 'Titans'" I corrected myself, "and...he didn't believe in his celestial children, so, well, Kronos ate them, right? His wife hid the baby Zeus Get up, take a stone instead, and give it to Kronos. When Zeus grows up and defeats Kronos, he will have a brother and a sister..." "Huh?" The voice came from the group of girls behind me. "...so there was a massive war between the gods and the titans," I continued, "and the gods won." There was a snickering sound from the crowd. Right behind me, Nancy Popophy grumbles to her friend, "'Please explain why Kronos eats his baby'. Sounds like we would use it in real life, or It’s the same question you have to answer when you’re looking for a job.” "Jackson, respond to Mr. Bobofei's great question. Does such a thing exist in real life?" Teacher Brunner said. "Too bad," Grover muttered. "Shut up!" Nancy said in a breathy voice, her face was redder than her hair. That at least shut Nancy up, Mr. Brunner was the only one who caught her talking nonsense, and he had radar ears. I thought about his question, then shrugged: "I don't know" "Well," Mrs. Brunner looked disappointed, "Jackson was half right. Zeus mixed mustard with wine and fed it to Kronos, forcing him to spit out the other five children, we call them gods, who were in The titan lived and grew in the stomach of the titan and was not digested. The gods defeated the father Kronos and cut him into pieces with Kronos own scythe and threw him to Tartarus which is the underworld The darkest corner. Guys, with the company of this interesting story, it's lunch time before you know it! Mr. Dawes, please take us back outside to get the numbers?" The students spread out, the girls laughed and huddled together, and the boys pushed each other like idiots. Grover and I were about to walk out with everyone when Mr. Brunner said, "Jackson." I knew that was coming. I told Grover to go first, then turned to Mr. Brunner and said, "Yes." Mr. Brunner gave a "won't let you go" expression.His bright brown eyes looked as if he had lived a thousand years and seen all the vicissitudes of the world. "You have to learn the answers to these questions," Mr. Brunner told me. "A story about the Titans?" "About real life, and how the results of what you learn apply in real life." "Oh." "What you have learned from me," he said, "is very important. Percy Jackson, I want you to take this seriously. I will only accept your best performance." I want to lose my temper, this guy is asking too much of me. Indeed, his jousting day was kind of cool, he would challenge us in full armor in Roman armor and shout, "Yah!"; Names of people in the Greco-Roman era, name their mothers and gods they believed in, Teacher Brunner hoped that I would do the same as others, but I obviously have dyslexia and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, and my life Never had a grade higher than a C.But he doesn't just want me to be good, he wants me to be better, but I can't, I can't remember names and things, let alone spell those words correctly. I muttered and complained that he wanted me to work harder, when Mr. Brunner gave Shizhu a sad and deep look, as if he had attended this girl's funeral. He asked me to go out for lunch. Classmates gather on the steps in front of the museum, from here we can see the continuous flow of pedestrians coming and going on Fifth Avenue. There's a storm brewing overhead, and I've never seen such black clouds over New York.I think this could have something to do with global warming or something, because the weather in New York State has been weird since Christmas, super storms, floods, lightning strikes and fires, etc., so weird things happened, so even this time There will be hurricanes, and I don't think it's surprising. But no one seems to have noticed this.Some classmates were throwing cookies from their lunch boxes to pigeons, and Nancy Popophy was stealing from a lady's purse.Of course, Mr. Dawes didn't see it. Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from everyone else.We like to say that maybe this way people won't know we're from "that" school, the school for losers and freaks with nowhere else to go. "Are you going to stay after school?" Grover asked. "No." I said, "Mr. Brunner didn't say, I just wish he would let me off sometimes, I mean, I'm not a genius after all." Grover paused for a moment, and just when I thought he was about to give me a deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he said, "Can I have your apple?" I had no appetite, so I gave him the apple. Watching the taxis pass up Fifth Avenue reminds me of my mom's apartment, a short walk uptown from where we're sitting now.I haven't seen him since Christmas.I would love to hop in a taxi and go home, and my mother will be happy to hug me, but she will also be disappointed in me.He'd send me back to Yancy to try harder, and even though it was my sixth school in six years, I could still get kicked out again.I don't like to see her sad. Mr. Brunner parked the wheelchair at the bottom of the handicap ramp.He eats celery and reads a paperback novel, a red umbrella perched on the back of his chair that looks like a mobile coffee table. I pulled out the sandwich and there was Nancy Popeye and her bunch of ugly friends.I guess he's getting tired of stealing from tourists, and now he's dumping half of his lunch on Grover's lap. "Ouch!" He grinned at me, showing crooked and rotten teeth.Her freckles were orange, like someone had squirted cheese sticks on her face. I try to stay calm, the school counselor has told me a million times: "Count to ten, hold your nerves." But I'm really freaking out, my mind goes blank, and a wave of rage sweeps through me . I don't remember running into her, but when I came to my senses, Nancy was sitting on her ass in the fountain screaming, "Percy pushed me!" Mr. Dawes suddenly appeared beside us. Several children talked in a low voice: "Did you see..." "……water……" "...grab her..." I don't know what nonsense they're talking about, I just know I'm in trouble again. Mrs. Dawes came up to make sure poor little Nancy was all right, and promised to buy her a new shirt in the museum shop, and then Mrs. Dawes turned to me.Victory blazed in her eyes, as if she had waited all semester for her chance to make a move. "Now, dear..." "I know." I said unfairly: "Wipe the exercise book for a month." I was not right. "Come with me," said Mr. Dawes. "Wait!" Grover yelled. "It was me! I pushed her!" I stared at him dumbfounded, I couldn't believe he wanted to cover me. Grover was terrified of Mr. Dawes. Mrs. Dawes glared at her, and his bearded jaw began to tremble. "I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said. "But……" "You—stay—in—here—in." Grover looked at me desperately. "It's okay," I told him, "Thank you for your effort." "Honey," Mr. Dawes growled at me, "come here!" Nancy Popeye grinned strangely. I gave her a hard look, gave him a super fierce "I'll kill you in a second" look, and then turned to look at Mrs. Dawes.But she wasn't there, she was standing on the top steps at the entrance to the museum, impatiently gesturing for me to follow. How could he go there so quickly? I often fall into this state, like my head suddenly falls asleep, only to find that some pieces have been lost when I return, like a jigsaw puzzle piece falling into the universe, leaving me staring blankly at a blank corner.The counselor at school told me it was because I had ADHD and my brain was misinterpreting things. I'm not sure that's the case. I followed behind Mr. Dawes. As I climbed the stairs, I glanced back at Grover.His face was pale, and he looked back and forth between Mr. Brunner and me, as if he hoped that Mr. Brunner would notice this, but Mr. Brunner was engrossed in his novel. I turned my head back, and Mr. Dawes was gone again. It turned out that he had entered the museum and walked to the end of the intersection hall. Well, I think he wants me to go to the museum store and buy a new shirt for Nancy. However, this was clearly not his plan. I followed him further into the museum, and when I finally caught up with her, I realized we were back in the Greco-Roman exhibit. There was no one else in the showroom except us. Teacher Dawes crossed his arms and crossed his chest, standing in front of the giant marble statue of the Greek god of heaven, and the voice spit out from his throat was very strange, like a low growl. If it wasn't for this strange sound, I wouldn't be nervous, because the combination of this sound and the teacher is really weird, especially Mr. Dawes.She looked at the stone carving, as if she wanted to destroy it. "Honey, you've given us enough trouble," she said. I made a safe response and I said, "Yes, sir." He tugged at the cuffs of his leather jacket. "Do you really think you can escape like this?" Her eyes have surpassed the level of madness, it is evil. I was thinking nervously, she is a teacher, it is impossible for her to hurt me. I said, "I... I will work harder, teacher." Thunder shook the entire building. "Percy Jackson, we're not stupid," said Mr. Dawes. "It's only a matter of time before we find you. Admit it, and you'll suffer less." I don't know what nonsense he's talking about. The only thing I can think of is that the teachers must have found out about the banned candy I used to sell in the dorm room, or they knew that the article I wrote about "The Adventures of Tom" was copied from the Internet, and I didn't know it at all. Read that book, and now they want to delete my grade, and even give me a harsher punishment, telling me to finish reading that book. "How?" he questioned me. "Teacher, I don't..." "Time's up," she growled. At this moment, the weirdest thing happened.His eyes glow like burning coals; he spreads his fingers, which become claws; his jacket melts to reveal a pair of gigantic wings.She is not human!She was a haggard witch with bat wings, sharp claws, and yellow fangs.She's about to cut me to pieces. What happened next was even stranger. Mr. Brunner, who was outside the museum a minute ago, drove a wheelchair from the porch into the exhibition hall, holding a pen in his hand. "Hey! Percy!" he yelled, throwing his pen into the air. Mr. Dawes jumped at me. I dodge amid the roar, and I feel the air of the claws snapping hard against my ear.I reached out and grabbed a ballpoint pen, but when the pen touched my hand, it was no longer a pen, it became a sword—the same bronze sword that Mrs. Brunner used on horse riding day, Teacher Dawes rushed towards me, with a murderous look in his eyes. My knees turned to soft jelly, and my hands shook so badly I could barely hold a sword. She yelled, "Go to hell, honey!" He flew at me. Extreme fear enveloped the whole body, I only made a natural reaction, swinging the sword. The metal blade touched her shoulder, then passed through her completely, as if she were made of water.Hiss - hiss! Teacher Dawes was like a sand castle blown away by an electric fan. Her body exploded and turned into a pile of yellow powder, which then evaporated on the spot, leaving no bones left.There was a lingering smell of sulfur and dying screams in the air, and an evil chill, as if those glowing red-eyed men were staring at me. I am alone now. I have this ballpoint pen in my hand. Mr. Brunner is not here, there is no one here but me. My hands are still shaking, someone must have poisoned my lunch with magic mushrooms or something. Is all this my hallucination? I turned and walked out. It started to rain. Grover sits by the fountain with a museum map over his head.Nancy Popeye was still standing there, drenched from a dip in the fountain.He was complaining to his ugly friends, and when he saw me he said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr beats you up." I said, "Who are you talking about?" "Our teacher, idiot!" I was taken aback.We didn't have a teacher named Kerr, and I asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away. I asked Grover where Mr. Dawes was. He said, "Who is it?" But he paused before answering and didn't look me in the eye, so I thought he was playing me on purpose. "It's not funny, sir," I told him, "I mean it." Overhead, thunder rumbled. I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella reading, as if he had never moved. I went up to check with him. He looked up, a little absent-minded, "Oh, that should be my pen. Jackson, please remember to bring your own stationery in the future." I handed Mr. Brunner's pen to him. If he didn't say it, I didn't even notice that I was still holding the pen. "Teacher," I said, "Where is Teacher Daus?" He looked at me blankly. "Who are you talking about?" "The other tutor, Mr. Dawes, is our math teacher." He frowned and leaned forward, looking worried. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dawes in this field trip, as far as I know, there has never been a person named Mrs. Dawes in Yancy school. Are you okay?