Not That Kind Of Lady

‘Good idea,’ Nelinha says. That makes twice this week she has publicly agreed with Gem, which probably means doomsday is nigh.

I've swept through all the pages but I couldn't find that first agreement Ana said. I think Rick was mistaken on this part. It was only in Chapter 27 did Nelinha agreed with Gem.

The following was posted by Rick Riordan on his blog, a long, long time ago (October 3, 2013).

A Deleted Scene from The Last Olympian

Recently on Twitter I mentioned a deleted scene from The Last Olympian, in which Percy Jackson comes across his old nemesis Nancy Bobofit, the mortal girl who bullied him in The Lightning Thief. The scene was cut from the book for the sake of keeping the narrative moving, but I’ve always liked it. This week I spoke with Publisher’s Weekly about how I decide which characters to highlight and sideline in each book. As an extension of that interview, the deleted Nancy Bobofit scene is featured below.

Percy, Thalia, Annabeth and Grover are heading to Central Park to fight the Titans when they run across a group of unconscious mortals. As you may recall, the god Morpheus put all the mortals in Manhattan to sleep before Kronos’ army attacked the city:

The lights of the city were blinking on. I guess they were on automatic timers. The streetlamps in the park glowed, making the lanes and the trees look spooky – like we needed any more spookiness.

Thalia stopped and tensed, like she was catching a scent. “I’ll be back. Need to check the Hunters on the right flank.”

Her bow appeared in her hands and she disappeared into the trees.

We stepped over bodies of sleeping New Yorkers, moving them to safety when we could. We were just coming to a stone bridge on the northern side of the park when we came across a dozen kids, all slumped next to a pretzel stand, like they’d been lined up to buy snacks.

Grover yelped. “Percy . . . look.”

He crouched next to a girl with orange hair and freckles. She reminded me a little of Clarisse, because she was a big girl, like she was built for tackle football.

And then my eyes widened. “Oh my gods. It’s . . . Nancy?”

I hadn’t seen her in four years, but I still recognized her. Nancy Bobofit, a bully who’d made my life miserable in sixth grade. Grover and I had been at Yancy Academy, and she would pick on us mercilessly. She’d been around the first day I suspected that I was a demigod.

“Who’s Nancy?” Annabeth asked.

“A girl we used to know,” Grover muttered. “Not a very nice girl.”

I looked at the other sleeping kids. Some I’d never seen, but a few looked familiar.

“This is our class from Yancy,” I said. “They must’ve been on the summer trip.”

“Yeah,” Grover said. He pointed to a lady in a flowery dress. “Here’s Mrs. Watt. She always chaperoned the summer New York trip. If we’d stayed at Yancy . . .”

He didn’t finish the thought. We both knew that was impossible. We didn’t live normal lives. We never would’ve made it through middle school without monsters destroying us or the school or both. Still, it was strange looking at my former classmates. I never went backward. Once I left a school, I always tried to leave it behind for good. Besides, the memories were usually bad. But looking at the kids who’d kept going, even stupid old Nancy Bobofit, I felt a wave of sadness wash over me.

“They’re right in the path of the battle,” Grover said, and he looked at me to see what I’d suggest.

“We have to move them,” I said. “Under the bridge, maybe. They’ll be safer.”

“After all she did to us,” Grover mused, “it kind of serves her right to be stomped by a titan army.”

“But we can’t.”

He sighed. “Yeah. You’re right. Maybe . . . draw a moustache on her, at least?”

Four years ago, it would’ve been tempting. Now, I realized that I didn’t hate Nancy anymore. I was a different person. She was a mortal in the path of danger – we were the only thing between her and destruction.

“No moustaches,” I said. “Annabeth, give me a hand?”

She was studying me carefully, trying to read my thoughts, but she didn’t say anything. She just helped me drag the school group to safety.

This deleted part is in Chapter 14: Pigs Fly, between these lines:

“Do you think Ethan suspects about your weak spot?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He didn’t tell Kronos anything, but if he figures it out—”

“We can’t let him.”

“I’ll bonk him on the head harder next time,” I suggested. “Any idea what surprise Kronos was talking about?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t see anything in the shield, but I don’t like surprises.”

“Agreed.”

“So,” she said, “are you going to argue about me coming along?”

“Nah. You’d just beat me up.”

She managed a laugh, which was good to hear. I grabbed my sword, and we went to rally the troops.

--- Somewhere here. ---

Thalia and the head counselors were waiting for us at the reservoir. The lights of the city were blinking on at twilight. I guess a lot of them were on automatic timers. Streetlamps glowed around the shore of the lake, making the water and trees look even spookier.

“They’re coming,” Thalia confirmed, pointing north with a silver arrow. “One of my scouts just reported they’ve crossed the Harlem River. There was no way to hold them back. The army . . .” She shrugged. “It’s huge.”

“We’ll hold them at the park,” I said. “Grover, you ready?”

Also, I am fairly certain that this is not a whole chapter because the first few lines and the last few lines (I highlighted it in color red) corresponds to what is already written in Chapter 7: My Dinner Goes Up In Smoke.

Now, here it is.

When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals, Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention.

Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director Chiron says the next capture-the-flag is Friday. Cabin Five presently holds the laurels."

A bunch of ugly cheering rose from the Ares table.

"Personally," Mr. D continued, "I could care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Peter Johnson."

Chiron murmured something.

"Er, Percy Jackson," Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that. Now do your silly little welcome tradition. Go on."

Cabin Eleven started a chant, pounding on the table and doing a series of hand-gestures I didn't understand any better than the words:

Half-blood, half-blood, rak-a-sak-a-soo.

Gitcheegumee, ratatooie, whose child are you?

Throw him in, throw him in, welcome to the camp,

No one's a half-blood until they're damp!

Then the tempo changed and everyone in the pavilion drummed their fists on the tables:

Ohhhhhh ---

Percy kiss the boar! Percy kiss the boar!

Percy kiss the boar! Percy kiss the boar!

The bigger guys in Cabin Eleven grabbed me and lifted me over their heads. I struggled a little at first, but I realized there wasn't much point, so I let them carry me down to the cabins, the whole camp laughing and singing and jostling each other.

We went down to Clarisse's cabin, the one with the wild boar mounted above the doorway. Luke lifted me on his shoulders so I could reach it.

"Go ahead, Percy!" he yelled. "A big wet one on the snout!"

The thing was disgusting – moldy and smelly and ugly like you wouldn't believe. The snout was all peeling off and nasty.

"Percy kiss the boar! Percy kiss the boar!" everybody shouted.

Before I could think about it too much, I kissed the boar's nose.

A roar of approval went up from the campers, and I felt . . . weird, like I'd been accepted. I couldn't remember the last time anybody had cheered for me, much less a hundred people and satyrs and wood nymphs.

Before I could start feeling too warm and fuzzy, or even wipe the snout-grime off my lips, the stuffed boar's mouth opened all by itself and let loose an enormous belch right in my face. Everybody roared with laughter. It was a practical joke – a trick boar.

A new chant started: Throw him in! Throw him in!

The guys carried me down to the canoe lake.

I saw what was coming, but I wasn't worried about getting wet. I was thinking: Please don't let this be like the bathroom. Don't hose everybody down.

I didn't need to worry. I went straight in – SPLOOSH! – and right down to the bottom.

When I came up gasping, everybody cheered. Luke and some of the other guys hauled me out and clapped me on the back.

We all headed down to the amphitheater, where Apollo's cabin led the sing-a-long. We sang camp songs and ate s'mores and joked around, and the funny thing was, I didn't feel like anyone was staring at me anymore. I felt like I was home.

Later in the evening, when the sparks from the campfire were curling into a starry sky, the conch horn blew again, and we all filed back to our cabins. I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I collapsed on my borrowed sleeping bag.

My fingers curled around the minotaur horn. I thought for a moment about my mom, but they were good thoughts – her smile, the bedtime stories she would read me when I was a kid, the way she would tell me not to let the bedbugs bite.

When I closed my eyes, I fell asleep instantly.

That was my first day at Camp Half Blood.