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PROLOGUE

Jude

Eight years old

My book is ruined.

I sit behind the broken slide with my knees pulled up to my chest, staring at the wrinkled pages of Percy Jackson in my hands and trying really hard not to cry. The pages are wet, the cover is bent, and I don't even know if I'll be able to read the rest now.

Kane Mathews threw it in the toilet.

Dex gave him a black eye.

Mom is probably going to be mad at him for fighting again, but I'm not. I would've punched Kane myself if Dex hadn't gotten there first, especially after he called me a weirdo in front of everyone.

I hate that word.

I know I'm different. Mom says different isn't bad, and she says me and Dex have superpowers because our brains work differently than other people's, but sometimes I wish my superpowers didn't make people look at me like there's something wrong with me.

A shadow falls across my book.

“Hi.”

I quickly wipe my eyes with the back of my hand before looking up.

There's a boy standing in front of me. I've seen him at school before, but I don't know his name. He has dark hair, blue eyes and a crooked smile on his face, and after what Kane just did, I'm not exactly in the mood to trust another kid smiling at me.

I close my book and hold it against my chest. If he decides to destroy it even more, I'll have to wait another month to buy a new copy, and I really want to know how it ends.

Instead, the boy holds out his hand.

“My name is Damiano.”

His English sounds different, but his smile seems sincere, so I look at his hand for a second before shaking it.

“Jude.”

He points at the book I'm holding. “I saw what they did.”

I look down at the wet pages sticking out beneath my arm. “They say I'm weird.”

Damiano leans closer until his face is right in front of mine, his eyes moving over me like he's actually checking to see if Kane was right. I don't know what he's looking for, but after a few seconds, he shrugs.

“I don't think you're weird at all. And if your brother hadn't punched him, I would've.”

I stare at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Where are you from?”

“Italy. Bet you thought I was from around here with my perfect accent, huh?”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, and the tight feeling that's been sitting in my chest since Kane took my book loosens a little.

“I have ADHD.”