I sat in the middle of the Apollo Cabin, trying to write a poem. So far, I was unsuccessful.

"Hey guys," I called. "What word rhymes with Apollo?"

"Awesome." Olivia suggested, rolling her eyes. "At least that's what Dad thinks."

"How about swallow?" Kayla said. Her eyes drifted to the paper in my hands. "What's your poem about anyway, Cass?"

"Well…" I said. "I'm trying to enter this mortal contest. You have to write a poem about one of your parents, and what they mean to you."

"Couldn't you just do your mom?" Austin asked. I glared at him. He gulped.

"Oh yeah. Sorry Cassie. I forgot there for a sec."

You see, my mom died in a car accident three years ago, and I had been stuck in camp ever since. Which if you ask me, is a long time.

But no one ever asks the children of Apollo anything. It's like we're some spoiled, stuck- up brats that only care about ourselves, and our amazing blue eyes and blonde hair.

Not that my hair is amazing. On most days, it's a ratty, tangled mess of blonde waves. Today was one of those days, unfortunately.

"It doesn't have to rhyme." Will reminded me. "You know you could write a haiku or something, Cassie."

I rolled my eyes. "Everyone expects me to write a haiku just because Dad's been obsessed with them ever since he visited Japan."

"Write an ode." Austin commented. "They originated in Ancient Greece, you know."

"I know." I said. "What do I call it? Ode to Apollo?"

"That's perfect!" cried Victoria. "Now you just need to write it on paper."

After about an hour, I had come up with a semi- okay poem.

"Guys!" I called, looking around the cabin. I had gone to write the rest of the poem on my bed. No answer.

"Guys!" I tried again, this time a little louder. I sighed. My cabin had left me. Again.

Running to the bathroom, I splashed some water on my face, and attempted to finger comb my hair, which somehow made it messier. Grabbing my poem, I pulled on sneakers, and ran out the door.

—-

My first stop was the infirmary. There, I found Will and Elena, who were busy with a patient.

"Will," I called. "Where did everyone else go?"

My half brother sighed. "Archery. And we looked for you, but you had fallen asleep on your bed. and you know how crabby you get if someone wakes you up."

"Wait!" cried Elena, as I was running out the door. "Don't forget your poem!"

I sighed and ran back for it.

—

I met the rest of my cabin at the archery field. Well, what really happened was that I accidentally walked in front of the targets, and was yelled at to get off before someone hit me.

"Hey guys!" I called. "I finished my poem! Wanna hear?"

"Sure." said Marisol. "Speak away Cass." And with that, she let her arrow to fly and managed to get a perfect bull's eye.

I cleared my throat loudly. "Ode to Apollo. By Cassie E. Greeney.

My Dad means a lot of things to me.

First of all, he's awesome,

And he's a great singer.

My Dad is also a doctor

Saving lives, right and left.

And he is always there for me

When I need him.

He never forgets my birthday

Always bringing me a gift.

He is very smart

And always knows the right thing to do.

That is what my Dad means to me."

Sadly, no one applauded my poem, which was truly a work of art. Victoria did raise an eyebrow, though.

"Um, Cassie?" she asked. "Did you just take Dad and write down the exact opposite of what he's like? Because that is what it sounds like."

"True." said Austin. "Dad has never once remembered my birthday. And a gift? That's pushing it."

"Oh, come on, guys!" I cried. "Lighten up! It's not like anyone will ever see it, right?"

My cabin mates looked at each other. "Well…" they said. "I guess not."

Little did we know how absolutely wrong I was.