Percy Jackson.
Well, what is there to say about the boy? Seventeen years of age, tall and lanky, casual kid. Dyslexic, restless, bully magnet, unathletic, and not too bright as well. Apparently enjoys swimming, fighting people (though, this is a small mystery to me, because I don't believe he could ever win a fistfight), and, strangely enough, blue colored food.
Weird.
That's probably the best, most gentle term you could use on someone like that. It's like he literally lives in his own little world. The scariest part is, he knows it. Is that how all crazy people are like?
I'll admit though, I hadn't known Percy until the fateful day we collided. Literally. Not by some sort of street accident either, but by some freak explosion that I don't recall being anything remotely close to ordinary. It was a pretty normal day for me, actually, until the whole place blew up, and this particular boy flies straight to me and knocks me flat on the ground. But, hey, if he hadn't, I would have been fried to charcoal.
Yeah, he saved my life.
But there's really just something different about this kid. Yeah, okay, I know I said he was weird, but I didn't say I hated him for it. In fact, I think it's pretty cool. Everyone's a little weird sometimes – he just kind of makes up for the other part of us that isn't.
How to describe Percy Jackson? He's got a few bolts loose. He's probably the most unorganized person I know. He really, really will get himself killed, if he's not careful.
And, he's a son of Poseidon.