Everything looked the same as usual. Same strawberry field, same Big House, same Mr D. I sighed, and went to greet him.
"Good day, sir!" I said, trying to be cheerful. Kinda hard when you're talking to someone who could scowl for Olympus. And the world, for that matter.
"Well, you're back then, Mumblebore."
"Dumbledore, sir" I corrected him, rolling my eyes.
"Whatever!"
I left him mumbling to himself grumpily. No wonder they sent him here. How could you listen to him go on and on for all eternity. I pitied the gods at that moment. But I pitied us at Camp Half-Blood more.
I crossed over to Athena cabin, searching for one person in particular. When I saw her, I couldn't help but smile. Same old Annabeth, stuck in a book about Architecture written in Ancient Greek.
"Annabeth..." I called, in a sing-song voice. She looked up, dazed by the light streaming in the room through the open door behind me. She finally noticed me and ran to me faster than a dryad running away from a satyr.
"Thorn!" She pulled me into a bone-breaking hug.
"I've missed you so much, you're never leaving me here with Clarisse ever again!" I had to laugh, the poor child meant it.
"What about Luke?" I asked, grinning evily.
She blushed. "What ABOUT Luke?" I didn't answer, and beckoned for her to follow me. "Come on, I've got to make sure nothing has changed since I left!"
We wandered around camp, going into the cabins to say hello to the campers and re-familiarising myself with everything. Everytime we walked around a corner, I half-expected Peeves, the poltergeist at Hogwarts, to ambush me with Never-wearing Glue and Hippogriff feathers.
It made me feel sad, in a way. No surprises like that for awhile.
Every ten seconds, Annabeth would yawn. I found it funny, and said,"Am I seriously that boring?"
"What! No, I'm just seriously tired!"
"Why, what have you been doing that has you sooo tired?"
"I've been nursing a demigod back to health in the infirmary!" she said, indigantly.
"Oh, what happened to them?"
"He got chased up to the camp boundaries by the Minotaur, saw his mother sacrifice herself for his safety, killed said Minotaur, dragged Grover up to the Big House while he was half-dead and collapsed on the porch, hysterical."
"...Woah...poor guy, has he recovered?"
"Yeah, he should be healthy enough to see Mr.D today or tomorrow."
"Well, you've been busy then."
"Exceedingly so."
I laughed."Let's go to the Big House!"
We walked up to the Big House, and ran into Mr.D and Chiron playing pinochle. We had nothing better to do so we decided to watch. About 10 minutes into the game, I noticed Grover and a dark-haired boy walking towards us. The boy looked tired and weak, and clenched a bloody horn tightly in his hand. He looked sick and exhausted and lost. Grover kept glancing at him, as if he was worried the boy would fall over or break down in tears. I leant against the porch railing and watched their approach.
Percy's POV:
The porch wrapped all the way around the farmhouse.
My legs felt wobbly trying to walk that far. Grover offered to carry the Minotaur horn, but I held onto it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I wasn't going to let it go.
As we came around the opposite end of the house, I caught my breath.
We must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to Long Island Sound, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture - an open-air pavilion, an amphitheatre, a circular arena - except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball.
Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings.
Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blonde-haired girl who'd spoon-fed me popcorn-flavoured pudding and a brown-haired girl I had never seen before, who was watching us, were leaning on the porch rail next to them.
The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes and curly hair so black it was almost purple. he looked like those paintings of baby angels - what do you call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That's it. he looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he would've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I got the feeling this guy could've out-gambled even my stepfather.
"That's Mr D," Grover murmured to me."He's the camp director. Be polite. The blonde girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She looked after you while I was busy. The brunette, is Skylar Dumbledore. She's just a camp councillor, but she's been here longer than everyone else, and is kinda like, THE boss, but she's super cool, even though she seems scary 'cus she's the most powerful here. And you already know Chiron..."
I was just about to ask "She's the most powerful what?", but then he pointed at the guy whose back was to me.
First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.
"Mr. Brunner" I cried.
The Latin teacher turend and smiled at me. his eyes had that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B.
"Ah, good, Percy," he said."Now we have four for pinochle."
He offered me a chair to the right of Mr D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now don't expect me to be glad to see you."
"Uh, thanks," I scooted a little further away from him because, if there was one thing I had learned from living with Gabe, it was how to tell when an adult has been hitting the happy juice.
If Mr D was a stranger to alcohol, I was a satyr.
"Annabeth? Skylar?" Mr Brunner called to the blonde and brunette.
They came forward and Mr Brunner introduced us. "Annabeth here nursed you back to health, Percy.
Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now."
Annabeth said "Sure, Chiron."
She was probably my age, maybe a couple of centimetres taller, and a whole lot more athletic-looking.
With her deep tan and her curly blonde hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a sterotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were a startling grey, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she was analysing the best way to take me down in a fight.
She glanced at the Minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. I imagined she was going to say, You killed a Minotaur! or Wow, you're so awesome! or something like that.
Instead she said, "You drool when you sleep."
Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blonde hair flying behind her.
Mr Brunner smiled. "And Skylar here, will be your guide in camp and help you settle in."
I looked at her. She was smiling at me, and I could feel myself smile back. I forced myself to keep looking at her. She had chocolate brown hair that reached the middle of her back, pale creamy skin, with rosy cheeks, full heart shaped lips and hazel brown eyes, that were friendly,
that seemed to tell me everything was okay, that she'd personally make sure of it herself.
I relaxed, and held out my hand. "Percy." She shook it. "Skylar, but you can call me Thorn if you want, everyone else does." I grinned at her, and turned to face Mr Brunner.
"So," I said,"You, uh, work here, Mr Brunner?"
"Not Mr Brunner," the ex-Mr Brunner said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."
"Okay." Totally confused, I looked at the director." And Mr D... does that stand for something?"
Mr D stopped shuffling the cards. He looked at me like I'd just belched loudly. "Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason."
"Oh. Right. Sorry."
Skylar stuck her tongue out from behind Mr D. "So is that why you always get mine wrong, then?" I had to force myself not to laugh.
"I must say, Percy," Chiron-Brunner broke in, "I'm glad to see you alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."
"House call?"
"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to... ah, take a leave of abscence."
I tried to remember the beginning of the school year. It seemed like so long ago, but I did have a fuzzy memory of there being another Latin teacher my first week at Yancy. Then, without explanation, he had disappeared and Mr Brunner had taken the class.
"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" I asked.
Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."
"Grover," Mr D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?"
"Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.
"You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr D eyed me suspiciously.
"I'm afraid not," I said.
"I'm afraid not, sir," he said.
"Sir," I repeated. I was liking the sitting the camp director less and less. Skylar rolled her eyes,
agreeing with my thoughts.
"Well," he told me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans, I would expect all civilised young men to know the rules."
"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron said.
"Please," I said,"what is this place? Mr Brun - Chiron - why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"
Mr D snorted. " I asked the same question."
The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile.
Chiron smiled at me sympathetically, the way he used to in Latin class, as if to let me know that no matter what my average was. I was his star student. He expected me to have the right answer.
"Percy," he said. "Did your mother tell you nothing?"
Skylar's POV
"Poor boy," I thought, "His mother's just died and he's interrogated by a grumpy God and horse."
"She said..." Percy started. "She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."
I looked at him. His eyes, sea-green, looked as sad and gloomy as the ocean on a stormy day. I felt like crying for him.
"Typical," Mr D said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"
"What?" Percy asked.
Mr D rolled his eyes, and explained, impatiently, how to bid in pinochle. Percy bid.
"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."
"Orientation film?" Percy asked.
"No," Chiron decided. "I think I'll let Skylar explain it to you."
"What!," I thought, as I glared at him. "Trust Chiron to give me the hard jobs!"
I sighed and started to explain. "Percy?" He looked up at me, looked me straight in the eyes. I felt my heart skip a beat. Bad Skylar, bad!
"You know Grover is a satyr. You know that you've killed a Minotaur. Not an easy thing, either.
What you don't know, or might not know, is that greater powers than us are at work in your life,
my life and our lives. Gods - the forces you call the Greek gods - are real."
Percy stared at Chiron, then Mr D, and finally me. He looked as if he were waiting for the punchline of a joke, except there wasn't one.
Mr D yelled "Oh, a royal marriage, Trick! Trick!" cackling as he tallied up his points.
"Mr D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"
"Eh? Oh, all right."
Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminium can and chewed it mournfully.
"Wait," Percy told me. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God."
"Hmmm, God, with a capital G? Different thing altogether! Let's not deal with the metaphysical!"
I replied.
"Metaphysical? But you were just talking about -"
"Gods, plural. Great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavours: the gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."
"Smaller!"
"Yes, quite." Chiron interrupted. "The gods we discussed in Latin class."
"Zeus," Percy said. "Hera, Apollo. You mean them."
Thunder rumbled in the distance, sounding odd against the backdrop of a cloudless sky.
"Young man," said Mr D. "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around if I were you."
"But they're stories," Percy said. "They're - myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."
"Science!" Mr D scoffed. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson -" Percy flinched at the sound of his name. "- what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr D continued.
"Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals - they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come soooo far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."
Percy's POV:
I wasn't liking Mr D much, but there was something about the way he called me mortal..as if..he wasn't. It was enough to put a lump in my throat, to suggest why Grover was dutifully minding his cards, chewing his soda can, and keeping his mouth shut.
"Percy," Skylar said, "you might not believe it, but immortal means immortal. Can you imagine never dying? Never fading? Existing the way you are for all time?"
I was about to answer, off the top of my head, that it sounded like a pretty good deal, but tone of her voice made me hesitate.
"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," I said.
"Yes," Skylar agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning?"
Chiron interrupted. "What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how little boys can get over losing their mothers?
My heart pounded. He was trying to make me angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him.
I said "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."
"Oh, you'd better," Mr D murmured. "Before one of them incinerates you."
Grover said, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."
"A lucky thing, too," Mr D grumbled, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe!"
He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily and woven the air into glass. The goblet fillef itself with red wine.
My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up.
"Mr D," he warned, "your restrictions."
Mr D looked at the wine and feigned surprise.
"Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled,"Old habits! Sorry!"
More thunder.
Mr D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda. Skylar coughed loudly. He glared at her, waved his hand for a third time, producing a can of Coca-Cola, and went back to his card game. She picked it up, popped the can and said "Cheers!"
Chiron winked at me, "Mr D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."
"A wood nymph." I repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space.
"Yes," Mr D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time -well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away - the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you.
"Be a better influence," he told me. "Work with youths rather than tearing them down." Ha!
Absolutely unfair."
Mr D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid.
"And..." I stammered,"your father is..."
"Di immortales, Chiron," Mr D said. "i thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus,
of course."
I ran through D names from Greek mythology. Wine. The skin of a tiger. The satyrs that all seemed to work here. The way Grover cringed, as if Mr D were his master.
"You're Dionysus," I said. "The god of wine."
Mr D rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, "Well, duh"?"
"Y-yes, Mr D."
"Then, "Well, duh!" Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?"
"You're a god."
"Yes, child."
"A god. You."
He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust,
sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts.
I knew that if I pushed him, Mr D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a straitjacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life.
"Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly.
"No. No, sir."
The fire died a little. He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win."
"Not quite, Mr D," Chiron said. He sat down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me."
I thought Mr D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He got up, and Grover rose too.
"I'm tired," Mr D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first,
Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."
Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."
Mr D turned to me. "Cabin 11, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners."
He swept into the farmhouse. Grover following miserably, after Skylar sent him a sympathetic look.
"Will Grover be okay?" I asked her.
Skylar nodded, looking a bit troubled. "Mr D isn't really mad. he just hates his job. He's been 'grounded' and he can't stand that he has to wait another hundred years before he can go home to Olympus."
"Mount Olympus," I said, "You're telling me there really is a palace there?"
"Well, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, which used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, in respect to the way things used to be, but the palace moves, Percy, just like the gods do."
"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like... in America?"
"Well, yeah. The gods move with the heart of the West."
"The what?"
Skylar's POV:
Just as I was about to answer, Chiron interrupted...again.
"Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization'. Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for..."
I began to doze. I'd heard Chiron say almost the exact same speech everytime there was new camper. I almost know every word. I started to wonder about the feeling I'd gotten in the van.
I tend to listen (listen being the best word right now. It's not like I talk to my feelings.)
to how my guts, because they normally tend to help me in sticky situations. This beginning to seem like one. I frowned, hating it. "Why can't I figure my guts out right now?" I repeated that in my head, over and over, until I realised Percy and Chiron were looking at me. I blushed. "Skylar, could you bring Percy down to his cabin and then maybe you could show him around?" Chiron asked. I noticed he was no longer tucked into his wheelchair.
I nodded. I meantally shook myself awake, and looked down at Percy, who was still sitting down.
I smiled at him. "Come on then, Percy. Let's meet the other campers." He smiled back, and we stepped down off the poch, in the direction of the cabins.