Author's note: I didn't like Octavian's character in the book, I felt it was too one-dimensional. I'm writing him differently to hopefully develop his character and how he ended up being the augur we all love to hate. There won't be interactions with the Greeks except for some mentions.

I didn't dream. All I saw was darkness and several voices arguing somewhere above me.

"Did you see what he did? It's him. It has to be him."

"Quiet. We'll find out soon enough. Right now, he needs rest."

"We don't have time!"

"If we wake him he'll die, and then he's definitely not the child of prophecy."

"But – "

"Later, Octavian. Now get out of here. Or did you want to risk some more nectar?"

I didn't recognize the voices, but I did recognize that tone. It's the one that teachers used when they told me to do a question they knew I couldn't solve in front of everybody. I pretended to be asleep and waited to hear footsteps. Sure enough, I heard a set of feet stepping away out of earshot. I risked cracking an eye open and saw the blond guy sitting beside me, scowling at the door.

The room I was in looked like a clinic designed by a time traveler. The walls were painted in that weird shade of white that old hospitals had; not dirty, but not quite white either. The ceiling looked like cracked tiles – mosaic, I think it's called – and every edge of the room had grooves, maybe to resemble columns. There was a bedside table with a stack of clothes and leaning beside it on the floor was my backpack. An IV drip loomed above me, but luckily it was empty. I wasn't hurt that badly. Right?

"Percy Jackson," I said. I expected a croak, but I sounded fine. I managed a smile when I saw the blond guy jump in his seat. He turned to look at me. He seemed alright, but he had bandages on his shoulder and he still had that crazy look in his eye. Maybe that was just how he normally looked? Suddenly I felt less like a patient and more like the board in an Operation box set.

"What?"

"My name. You asked me before I went out," I said.

He grinned. "Right. I don't think we've formally met." He stuck out his hand again. "My name's Octavian Aelius. Welcome to Camp Jupiter."

I closed my eyes, laid down, and felt a soft pillow cushioning my head. I don't remember the last time I felt a pillow. I think… I think after my twelfth birthday party, which consisted of me, my mom, and a blue cupcake with a candle on it, I went to bed, thinking that I would soon be a teenager, that I would soon grow up. Then I woke up in the ruins, and the wolves came.

Now I'm here. I hope it was worth it. Lupa taught me a lot of cool things, and I really didn't miss middle school, but I did worry about my mom. I was told that she knew it was going to happen at some point, but still. I hadn't spoken to her in months. She was probably more concerned than I was. Especially since I left her with Gabe.

My stomach clenched involuntarily at the thought of my stepdad. If my real dad would step in, then maybe she wouldn't have to put up with such a tool. I guess I had to step up. For now, though, I needed to figure out where I stood. I opened my eyes and saw that Octavian hadn't looked away.

"What's Camp Jupiter? And why did I have to fight a living hamburger to get here?"

"That living hamburger was the Minotaur. And I think it's easier to show you. Come on, let's get out of here. Oh, and you might want to change," he added, nodding to the stack of clothes: a purple T-shirt and a pair of jeans. "You've been in those clothes for three days now."

"I was out for three days?" I've never been knocked out. I once slept for 12 hours when my mom first got me a PlayStation, but three days?

"Between the journey here from the Wolf House, the fight with the Minotaur, and whatever it is you did with the water? I'm surprised you're already awake."

"Wait. The Wolf House? You know about the Wolf House?"

That got a self-satisfied smirk. He lifted his right arm, and for the first time I saw black markings on the length of his forearm. The letters SPQR, what looked like a big letter U with some lines on the inside, and a single strip. I thought they were tattoos, but they were darker and fuller, like they'd been burned onto his skin. Or drawn with a Sharpie. Somehow, I didn't think it was that second one.

"You're not the only one who's gifted. Get changed and follow me outside."

I waited till he left and pulled on the clothes set out for me. They fit perfectly. It was a nice change after so many years of having to wear hand-me-downs from my uncles or cousins or whatever my mom could scrounge up in the thrift store. I guess there really were other kids like me here. I felt butterflies in my stomach. Could this be it? Could this be where I belonged?

I couldn't wait to find out. I exited the room to find Octavian waiting for me, and together we left the infirmary and out onto Camp Jupiter.

It was the weirdest thing I'd ever seen, and that includes the Minotaur and my reflection when I wake up in the morning. Everything looked like upsized pieces from a museum (not that I go to museums) or sets from old 80s movies. Guys and girls my age would walk around, marching in full armor with earphones on or talking about the latest episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine while carrying heaps of swords. It was a clash between normal life and a corny high school play. I loved it.

"Here, well, we have the infirmary. Normally it's filled to the brim, but we haven't had any war games in a while, so it's more or less empty for now. In this area we have the barracks, where the legionnaires live – I guess you can call them dorms. Over there are the baths – "

"Baths? We have to share baths?" I asked. Even back home we had our own bathroom.

Octavian looked at me quizzically. "Have to? People pay to do it. You haven't lived till you tried a Roman bath," he said. I couldn't tell if he was joking.

"Right, I think I'd rather keep my private parts private, thank you."

"Your loss. Anyway, we should get you over to the principia."

"The principal?" I had a sour taste in my mouth. Like the rock candy they put on principals' desks.

"Principia. Though I guess you can say that our, ah, principals live there. Here in Camp Jupiter our leaders are called praetors. They oversee everything going on in the legion, make all the big decisions, have the biggest votes in the senate, and generally control the fate of Rome's legacy and everyone in camp, living and dead. No big deal." He tried to keep his voice casual, but I could hear the pride in his voice. Octavian definitely wasn't a leader – he looked too much like me – though he sounded like a kid showing off his report card to his parents.

"Living or dead?" I asked.

"Yes. You haven't noticed?" he spread his arms and looked around.

I followed his eyes and sure enough, I saw dead people. Purple men and women in togas, floating in the air, chatting away like normal people. Except I could see through them.

"Lares, we call them. House gods. They're harmless, but they know everything in camp and are so judgmental."

"I can imagine." I couldn't, actually, but I was busy taking things in. In Yancy Academy, my school before all this, I didn't really have any friends who were into architecture and stuff. My teacher Mr. Brunner was all over Greek history though, and I thought he would love this place. The only experience I had with design was the squat buildings in New York and the faraway skyline, but even I could appreciate the beauty of this place. Every curve and sleek design just looked right. The marble and limestone buildings were neat and rigid, like they were meant to be used and not looked at, but someone obviously put a lot of love into their construction. Even the cobblestones were pristine, not a weed to be seen.

"Alright. We're here," Octavian said.

I looked up at the building in front of us. "What is this, the Lincoln Memorial?" It looked exactly like it, only smaller and without the actual memorial inside. Instead, we were presented to a couple stone doors that looked impossibly heavy and freshly painted white walls.

"You wish. The Lincoln Memorial's design was based on Roman architecture. Those pillars, those slanted rooftops? Totally uninspired, but I guess you can't improve perfection. Come on. The praetors would want a chat with you."

"The praetors? The principal guys? What're they gonna do, interrogate me?" I joked.

Octavian looked at me like I was from another planet. "Well… yes."

Together we pushed the doors open and stepped inside. I was instantly reminded of a bank. The slick marble floor and eerily quiet halls were familiar enough. On the ceiling a mosaic of Romulus and Remus, sitting under the gaze of Lupa, stared down onto us. The walls were draped in velvet, and instead of looking cheesy they seemed to blend in perfectly. In the corner was a suspiciously dark stairwell, and in the center of the room was a long wooden table, covered in scrolls, tablets, laptops, and reams of paper with pens and markers of all colors scattered across. A heavy stamp sat at the center. Behind it were a pair of high-backed chairs where two guys who looked old enough to attend college were arguing. To either side of the table there were a pair of dog statues, one silver and one gold.

"You know we have to do it. We can't be complacent!"

"You're being reckless. I won't have it, Jules. Now give it a rest." He turned to us. "New blood, yeah?"

I wasn't sure what to say, so I just nodded.

"I heard you took down the Minotaur all by yourself," he said softly. They were about eighteen, dressed like me but with a purple cape that would look like a bedsheet on me. On them, however, it was regal. I could almost pretend that they weren't wearing jeans and a tee. The one who spoke to me had brown eyes and brown hair, both so dark they could be black. He had tanned skin like he worked under the sun a lot, and a light spray of freckles dusted his nose and cheeks. His hands were steepled on the table in front of him, long fingers leading up to well-muscled arms and shoulders. He looked like a surfer, though he had a buttery smooth voice.

"No, that's not exactly true. The guards outside helped me. I wouldn't be here if they didn't," I said. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Octavian straighten up a bit. I realized that he hadn't said a word. It was such a difference from his usual chatty self that I couldn't help feeling a little worried.

"And yet you left two legionnaires wounded while you got off without a scratch. How do you explain that?" he asked. His tone hadn't changed, and yet I could feel my face reddening. I didn't want to mention what I could do. I know that I should, but I didn't. Thankfully Octavian stepped in.

"It was a three-man job. Me and Gwen distracted it, and Percy here saw a chance and took it. He killed the Minotaur before it focused on him. End of story," he stated. Technically it wasn't a lie.

"I don't remember asking you, Aelius," he replied. Now it was Octavian who got red-faced. He remained silent.

"I suppose we can't know for now sure. Let's focus on what we can do for now and get this over with," the other guy spoke up. I forgot he was there. The guy had curly black hair and olive skin that looked even darker with his tan. Two black eyes peered at me under the mass of curves tumbling on his forehead. He spoke with authority and strength, the kind of voice I expected a president to have.

"Let's sort out the paperwork." He leaned down and must have opened a filing cabinet under the table because he came up holding a few sheets of paper. He took up a pen and began filling it in.

"Full name, age, and date of birth?"

"Perseus Jackson, twelve, August 8, 1993," I said.

"Perseus. Interesting name. Demigod or legacy?" he asked.

"Uh… demigod. I think."

"You think?"

"I'm not sure what a legacy is," I admitted.

"I'm sure your friend Octavian here can explain," the soft-spoken guy said.

If Octavian took insult to the taunt, he didn't show it. "Legacies are children of demigods," he said. "I'm one. My mom is a daughter of Apollo." He stuck out his arm, showing his tattoos like they were all the explanation I needed.

"Apollo, god of… broken harps?"

"Music," the soft-spoken guy interrupted. "Poetry, healing, the sun, plagues, archery – "

"And prophecy," Octavian finished. He had that look in his eye again.

"Yes, thank you, Octavian," he whispered, sticking out his own arm. He also had the letters SPQR, but instead of a U, his symbol was a dove, and he had more strips than Octavian, at least seven or eight. "I'm Marcus, son of Venus, praetor of Camp Jupiter."

"Julius," the other guy grunted. "My dad's Mars. Just call me Jules. Do you know who your parent is?"

"I'm not sure. But I know my mom is mortal," I said. Jules was about to say something, but a metallic creak caught everyone's attention. The dogs had turned to face me. I was sure they were facing forward when I came into the room.

"Lying to a legionnaire will earn you a beating. Lying to a praetor…" Marcus left the threat hanging.

"I'm not lying!" I blurted out. "I really don't know who my dad is. I – I have some ideas, but I never met him." The dogs didn't react.

"If they're satisfied, so am I," Jules said. "You seem like a good kid. I don't know what you're hiding, but lots of demigods are insecure about their parents. Take your time and let us know as soon as possible. I don't want to be digging through our archives a month later just to fill in a blank. Any letters of recommendations? Sponsors?"

"Um – "

"I'll sponsor him," Octavian said. "I'll show him around, teach everything he needs to know, and prepare him for the legion. He can be in the Fifth Cohort with me."

That was a lot, coming from a guy I just met. Evidently the praetors thought so too. Both of them looked up and stared down Octavian.

"I don't see why not." Jules glanced at Marcus.

"Better him than us, yes. Perseus Jackson, you have been assigned to the sponsorship of Octavian Aelius, legacy of Apollo, to serve on probatiothe Twelfth Legion Fulminata of New Rome under the Fifth Cohort. Do you accept?"

"Yes." This was way too much too fast. Even though I didn't understand a word he said, it sounded cool. I felt like I was accepted into something a lot bigger than me. It gave me purpose and somehow, pride.

"Great." Marcus reached under the table and produced a small necklace with a lead tablet on it, then tossed it to me. I caught it with one hand. "Put that on. Octavian, if you could show him the barracks," he said, talking like there was an inside joke I didn't get.

"Of course." Octavian nodded to them. I did the same, and together we left for the legion. A shiver ran down my neck. Something told me their eyes bored onto my back as I was walking. Maybe it was just my imagination. I hoped.

Back outside, the sun was setting. I didn't realize that much time had passed. The light glinted off the soft ripples of the river in the distance and stung my eyes. Still, I could take a moment and take it all in.

"There'll be time enough for sightseeing later," Octavian said, pulling me towards the barracks. "Come on. Let's get you settled in first."

"Octavian? Why did those guys make fun of you?"

He glanced back at me, surprised. "What? They weren't – "

"It's alright, man. I've been there. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want."

"It's… it's fine." It wasn't. He had to take a deep breath before continuing. "It's because I'm a legacy. Not a real demigod. I'm more human than most of the people here, especially in the legion. I can barely handle nectar and ambrosia, and my gifts are a bit…"

"Watered down?" I offered.

"Diluted. But yes, I had to work twice as hard as everybody else to be taken seriously. Despite my family's best efforts."

"Your family? What – "

"We're here," he said abruptly. I made a mental note to talk about his family later. Maybe when we were alone. I looked away from him and to the direction he was headed. Like most of the buildings here, it was squat and painted white, but tucked away behind a load of dining tables. Soot and dirt had seeped into the walls that looked impossible to remove. Even though its construction was like everything else, it just seemed sad. A small golden symbol of an eagle with its wings stretched stuck to the front of the building. It looked more like burnished bronze.

"I thought the barracks were over that way," I pointed to the direction of the infirmary. The cobblestone road led a little further from here.

"Most of them, yes. But the Fifth Cohort is special. This is our home," he said. He pushed the door open, and the first thing I noticed was the smell. The kitchens must not be very far from here, and neither was the garbage dump, apparently. The Roman design was brought down by the terrible state it was in. A long corridor ran through the length of the building. I could see corners along the way, five to either to either side, which I assumed would lead to the actual rooms. The dim lighting was just enough for me to make out scraps of candy wrappers on the floor alongside bits of lint and what looked like shrapnel.

"It's usually a lot better," he said unconvincingly. This place reminded me of the one time I went to my stepdad's 'office'. "Come on. I'll show you to our room."

"'Our'?"

He stepped forward and walked into the first room to our right. It went for a few paces before they ended in front of a flimsy wooden door. It creaked open and we pushed inside.

I'm not claustrophobic or anything, but this room made me question it. Five bunk beds lined the walls, three on one side and two on the other. A large wardrobe claimed an entire section of the room and in the middle was a decent sized table with half a dozen chairs ringed around it. Three of them were occupied, and three faces looked up.

Two of them were girls. The girl on the left had bushy black hair drawn to a ponytail and thick eyebrows over startling blue eyes the color of Gatorade. Her nose was a little big and her lips were taut over her strong jaw. The girl on the right was even skinnier than Octavian. Her mouth had quirked into a grin and her brown eyes sparkled with mischief. A curtain of straight black hair fell to her shoulders. Between the two of them was a tall guy who looked like Octavian's older, cooler brother. They shared the same features, but he had a few more inches and about ten pounds on him. His eyes were more observant than Octavian's intense stare, though he tried for a weak smile.

Then I saw what was on the table. It was a curled horn the size of my arm. A few days ago, I would mistake it for a piece of firewood. Now I couldn't see it as anything other than the horn of the Minotaur.

"What's that doing here? I thought it went poof," I asked stupidly.

The skinny girl's grin got even wider. "Does that mean you don't want it?" The others rolled their eyes and groaned. "What? If he doesn't want it, we can all claim it."

"So you can pawn it off? No way," the guy grumbled. He turned to face me. "Does that mean it's true? You really did kill the Minotaur?"

The others looked at me expectantly. Even Octavian was quiet for a minute. "Yeah. Does that not happen often?"

The skinny girl burst out laughing. "I like this guy already! If he was any more clueless he'd be a Lare!"

"What's your name?" asked the other girl. Her voice was surprisingly chirpy, like a choir girl.

"Percy. Percy Jackson. I, uh, I just got here." I turned to Octavian for help.

"Percy got here a few days ago. And yes, it's true that the Minotaur chased him all the way through the tunnel. And it's true that he killed it," he stepped in.

"I thought that was just a rumor."

"It's not. I was on guard duty with Gwen. I fought it too."

The skinny girl frowned. "What? But if that's true, then why's he in the Fifth?"

"Because I sponsored him."

The others groaned. Even the girl looked put down. "Octavian, he probably saved your life! This is how you repay him?"

"Why? What's wrong with the Fifth?" I demanded. Was this like a temporary space for demigods who were about to be kicked out? Some kind of sick student exchange program? Hey, glad you liked your three days Camp Jupiter! Now off you go to Yancy Academy!

"We're the worst in the legion," the other girl explained. "Nobody goes here by choice, except for a few weirdos who actually want to be assigned to this place. Freaks and Greeks."

I felt a weight lift off my chest. "I can handle that." It was true. I hoped I would immediately fit in but changing from a loser to a popular kid overnight seemed more impossible than killing the Minotaur.

"My name's Percy," I said. I offered my hand to the blue-eyed girl.

"Vanessa." I thought she was going to break my hand with her grip.

"I'm Felix," the guy muttered.

"Alex," the skinny girl blurted out, shaking my hand way too fast.

There was an awkward silence.

"Not going to ask who's who?" Alex asked. "Or are you trying to guess? I think Vanessa is a bit obvious, but the rest of us – "

"Uh, you just introduced yourselves."

She scoffed. "Well, yeah, duh. You don't want to know who our godly parent is?"

"I think your own name is more important than your parents'," I shrugged.

There was another pause before Felix spoke up. "I think I understand why you're in the Fifth now," he said sagely.

"Yeah," Vanessa nodded. "He's pretty weird." I felt myself redden again. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Octavian smiling.

"Well, I think it's best if you knew. I'm a legacy of Vulcan," Vanessa said.

"My dad's Mercury," Alex grinned. "Just my luck. Maybe if he was Hermes I would have a decent handbag."

"I'm a son of Apollo," Felix said. He tried for another flimsy smile. The other two shifted their feet and their eyes darted to Octavian, who maintained a neutral expression. So that's why they looked so much alike. Though Felix seemed more… I don't know, godlike. I decided to keep that comment to myself.

"Great. Well, I'm not sure who my dad is, but my mom's name is Sally Jackson. She works in a small candy shop in Manhattan and she's ten times better than my father could ever be. That's the only thing about my parents I care about."

This time, everyone smiled and nodded. We could all agree on that.

"And if we're going to be roommates, then I guess we'll be friends too. So as far as I'm concerned," I picked up the horn, which was much heavier than it looked, "this belongs to all of us." I flipped it and jammed it point-first into the center of the table where it quivered.

Alex whistled. "You sure got a flair for the dramatic," she teased as she got up and stretched. "I gotta say, you're not half bad, Jackson. There might be hope for us yet." She turned to Vanessa. "Are we still on?"

"Yes," she said, standing too. "My project's almost done. Then I can help with your… uh, experiment." She flashed me a smile.

"Great. Well, we'll be seeing you guys tonight, then. Try not to get killed," she said before leaving the room. Vanessa waved and followed.

"Alright then. Now you know where you'll be staying for gods-know how long," Octavian spoke up. "Now we just need to get you some clothes and you'll be golden. Come on."

He stepped through the door without saying a word to Felix. I glanced at the taller kid. He looked a little embarrassed. "I'll, uh, I'll see you later then, Percy," he managed to say, pulling out a phone and immediately hiding behind it.

"Right," I said. Something was going on between him and Octavian. Clearly the other two knew about it. Before I could decide on something to say to him I left my new room to follow Octavian.

"They seemed nice," I said as I trudged alongside him.

"They are." He didn't continue the conversation.

"So how come they didn't have those tattoos?" I tried.

"Hm? Oh, they're on probatio, just like you. They only came to the legion a few months ago. You can only become a full member of the legion and earn your stripes after a year of service or an act of valor."

"An act of valor? You mean like killing the Minotaur?"

He cracked a smile. "Acts of valor for a fellow legionnaire. Self-preservation doesn't count."

"You and that other girl would be burger patties if I didn't jump in."

"And neither of us would be patties if you didn't show up," he shrugged. I hadn't thought about that.

"How is she, by the way? The other guard?"

"Gwen? She's fine, almost fully healed. The nectar and ambrosia did their job. It's almost like they're magic," he said. I chuckled, but my eyes were drawn to his bandages. Now I understood why he felt isolated. Just walking around made him look weaker.

We made our way through the street and through a pair of gates. Apparently Romans really liked gates. The path continued for a while until we came across a much wider, much fancier area. This was the city I saw from the end of the tunnel, I realized. It looked more like a city. The fancy building with the praetors (the principalis, Octavian called it), the barracks, and the infirmary looked like a war camp. This place looked like a miniature Rome. There was more variety in the buildings, but they had that distinct design. Still, I could see bakeries, clothing stores, armories, cafes, chariot dealerships, what looked like a court of the lawyer variety, a life-size replica of the Colosseum, libraries, and everything else you would expect to find in a hidden branch of ancient Rome during the 21st century.

I stepped forward, excited to see more of this paradise.

"Halt! No weapons through the Pomerian Line!" a voice screeched. I whipped around, but nothing was there. Octavian held out a hand.

"Give it a second."

With a pop, a floating statue was suddenly floating in front of me. He was the size of an elevator door and looked like a classical Roman statue – that is, ripped and nude. Thankfully, from the waist down he was just a block of marble. For some reason he didn't have arms.

"No weapons in the Pomerian Line!" it screamed again. "Cease and desist! Legionnaire, detain him at once!"

"Calm down, Terminus," Octavian said, giving Percy a look that seemed to say, just go along with me. "Percy's new here. And he doesn't have any clothes, let alone weapons."

"What a load of Minotaur dung! Check his pockets! His pockets!"

I frowned until I reached inside my right pocket. Sure enough, I could feel the familiar shape of my coin. I pulled it out. "Sorry, I forgot that it would come back – "

"I will not stand for this! Julia, seize it! Julia! Where has that child run off to?" He looked around. Just then I noticed a little mop of blond hair hiding behind a corner of a building. A squeal sounded, and a little girl about six years old came running forward, carrying a tray filled with scissors, nail clippers, and a steak knife.

"Give her the coin," the statue said.

"Are you sure? It can turn into – "

"Yes, yes," he said. He rolled his eyes, and I could imagine him waving his hands. If he had any. "Not to worry, Julia is an expert in deadly weapons."

She nodded gravely. I turned to Octavian, who smirked and ruffled the girl's hair. "I don't know anyone more trustworthy."

I shrugged and clinked it on the tray she held out. Julia beamed.

"Thank you. Now, what is this I hear about clothes? You just need to go a store – I recommend the Topsy Toga, since all their merchandise is regulation length. It's just over there, next to the building with the blue awning – no, look where I'm pointing."

"How? You don't have hands."

Apparently that was a sore point. Julia giggled and ran away. Octavian rubbed his face with his palm. The statue's face turned dark.

"A smart aleck, huh? Well, Mr. Rule Flouter, I guess Octavian can take you there. Or would you rather wait for me to grow a pair of arms?"

"Thank you, Terminus, I'll take it from here," Octavian said winningly. The statue grumbled and floated away, muttering something about artist's renditions and poor craftsmanship.

"That was interesting."

"Yeah, Terminus is a real stickler. I guess you can't help it when you're the god of boundaries," Octavian shrugged. My eyes widened.

"That was – that was a god?"

"A minor one, yes. But don't you say that to his face, otherwise he'd have the whole Cohort polishing New Rome. He protects us, keeps the peace."

"What happens if someone brings a weapon inside?"

"They disappear, along with whatever they brought with them." I could never tell when Octavian was joking.

Soon enough, we found the place Terminus suggested. Octavian informed me that they only sold clothes for formal events and nerds, so he took me to a much more normal place and we bought the bare necessities of a wardrobe. He paid the cashier in golden coins, kind of like the one I gave Julia, but rounder and shinier.

"Oh, dude, are you covering for me? I'll pay you back, I promise, it's just – "

"It's fine," he said easily. "It's part of my responsibility of sponsoring you."

I still felt bad. He showed me around some more before I could start complaining.

"This is New Rome. Technically Camp Jupiter is back there, but they're one and the same, really. The only difference is the Pomerian Line – city limits – to ensure all the swords and spears stay in camp. This is where families live, where we hold meetings, and host the biggest events of the year. This is where we go to school – "

"School?" I choked out. "I came all this way to avoid school. I have to go back?"

"Yup. In addition to legion training and all its responsibilities, we're expected to complete a normal education. I mean, you can be the strongest demigod in the world, but the legion needs people who can count past twenty. Besides," he added just as I was about to whine, "when you get old, you'll need to get some kind of job. Denarii don't grow on trees, you know."

I grumbled a lot. He made too much sense. After getting over the shock, we headed back to camp. There was a huge commotion in the dining area.

I craned my neck to check it out, and there were about two hundred kids seated at the tables, eating and talking and laughing as food literally zipped through the air, carried by invisible hands and floated directly in front of them. My stomach growled, and I started to walk towards them, but Octavian cursed and held me back.

"We're late."

"It's never too late to eat," I complained.

"It is in camp. They don't tolerate lateness. The last time that happened…" he shuddered. "We can go straight into the barracks. We'll pass by the kitchen, sneak in, grab something, and dash out."

My stomach rebelled. Octavian knew more than I did, though, so I decided to just follow his lead. Along the way I could see that most of the people had phones on their hands or tables.

"How are they using phones? Don't they alert every nasty in the area?" I whispered.

"They do. But the camp's magic prevents detection. We can actually use technology here, but the wi-fi isn't great."

Suddenly there was a lump in my throat. "Could we maybe, um, make a call to New York?"

Octavian looked like he got where I was coming from. "Of course, Percy. No problem. There's a call center in New Rome, but I think we should go tomorrow. After everything you've had to adjust to today, well… a new day brings a clear mind."

I nodded and forced the lump back down. I was determined not to cry. It's just that I missed my mom so much. It wasn't as bad with Lupa, because I sort of looked at her as a mother figure. But now….

I swallowed my emotions. Tomorrow. Octavian was right. I hadn't realized how tired I was.

We snuck into the kitchens, where the pots and pans were manned by invisible people; aurae, or wind spirits, Octavian had said. We intercepted some bits of food flying to the distance – at one point I overreached, heard an indignant gasp and felt a solid slap on my face. Right. Invisible, but very, very strong.

"So how did you get your stripe?" I asked between bites of nachos and seven-layer dip.

"Same as everyone, really," he said. "A year of service. We haven't seen acts of valor in a while now. In fact, we haven't seen much change since those two became praetors."

I turned to see where he was glaring. Marcus and Jules were sitting at the cool kids' table, huddled together with a bunch of older guys and girls and deep in discussion.

"They seem alright."

"They're not terrible people, objectively," Octavian agreed. "If I'm being objective, though, the legion hasn't improved. When we had our vote, everyone thought that they would balance each other out. But now they can't decide on anything."

"It's better than having a yes man," I suggested. Octavian shook his head.

"No. What they're lacking isn't coordination. Well, they do lack that. But more importantly, they need vision. A shared goal." He had a hungry look in his eyes. And since he just inhaled a cheeseburger, I meant that metaphorically.

After we got our fill we ducked back inside the barracks to find the other three already in their bunk beds. Felix was snoring away, and after helping me put away my clothes, Octavian crawled into the bed below him. Three beds for the guys and two for the girls. We didn't mix. That would be gross.

The girls were hidden below their sheets, though from the light shining through them I knew they'd be on their phones till they fell asleep. I climbed onto the top bunk and stared to the ceiling. I hadn't even bothered to change. Instead I pulled my thin blanket to my nose.

It was way too much to process. I had worried about fitting in, but now I worried about standing out. Octavian expected something from me, and I felt like I owed it to him. After seeing how Marcus treated him he definitely put his neck on the line. And my roommates looked about as enthusiastic as the other kids in school. Something was wrong with this Cohort. It's like they're carrying a failure that would outweigh everything they could do, so they didn't even bother trying. Octavian was an exception, but even he had a lot of anger inside of him.

I had to prove myself, by myself. Whatever it is that was bringing them down, I knew I could solve it. But lying here in bed, I felt very, very small.