AGRON

I drop to the ground as a spear zips towards my face.

"Sorry, Agron, didn't see you there!" Dean yells, dashing towards the spear and pulling it out of the wall. My name is Sophie, but the reason everyone around Camp calls me Agron is that there are two Sophies, and they're both daughters of Venus. That way, it's less confusing.

I shake my head and smile. "No worries, Dean, at least I'm not dead!" I call, as he runs off to meet his half-brother, Andy. I give a little fake laugh and walk towards the town, where most of the Roman descendants live. When I say Roman, I don't mean they're Italian. They're descendants of demigods. Now, I don't think I need to tell you about them, I'm pretty sure you've seen really, really old movies like Clash of the Titans and Immortals; I have, but honestly, I just think they're a pile of crap. They always feature Greek mythology, never Roman. Why? What's wrong with ours? Fine, call me biased, but the gods that I know are much, much fiercer than silly Greek gods. They controlled an empire, not a country!

"Agron, are you okay?" I hear someone ask.

I turn my head around, surprised to see it's Aaron. Aaron Saverin. The angst-filled son of Pluto with a big reputation in camp. No one really knows why he's angry most of the time, but what Alice, his half-sister, tells me is that he had a really rough childhood and camp is the only place he can actually let his anger out, with training and all. In truth, all of us had a rough childhood—well, demigods mostly—but rumor has it he had it worse than most, like going through hell and back.

I smile at him, trying to seem like it's nothing. "Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

He nods his head and sighs with relief. "If you say so. It's not every day you have spears flying towards you," he chuckles. Sometimes, just sometimes, his humor is too dark and sadistic for many of us. I'm guessing it comes with being the son of Pluto, but his sister isn't like that. Scratch that idea.

I try to laugh along with him. "Yeah, I agree. War games are coming up later, are you excited?" I ask, plucking a blond strand of hair from my purple camp T-shirt. Being a daughter of Venus sometimes makes you overly OCD, especially in my case, which is why my dad had no problem living with just me and my older sister, Lindy.

He looks at the ground and his black sneakers make scuff marks on the brown earth. "I don't know," he manages. "I think the war games will change. I don't know, it's just something I feel. I bet Klaus feels the same way in his little augury, splitting little stuffed animals in half and pulling their guts out."

I make a face. "Ugh, guts of fluffy white stuffing everywhere. Yuck." I think about what he just said. "War games? Change? Aaron, you're insane. The games haven't changed ever since they began. What makes you think they'll change this year?"

He shrugs carelessly. "Like I said, it's only a feeling. But it's a very strong one, Agron, so don't come whining to me after all of this happens and I say I told you so."

I nod my head, my mouth twitching at a smirk. "You're on, Saverin."

He waves to me and walks to the Second Cohort, while I make my way to New Rome. What I really don't get is how he got to the Second Cohort and off probatio so quickly. Recommendation letters are rare for demigods and I'm still stuck in the Fourth Cohort—how degrading is that? Well, it's not as terrible as the Fifth, but still! I'm close to being a loser. I've got one year of being in the Fulminata, so I'm off probatio as well.

Dan, a Legacy of Vulcan, runs beside me, a narrowly long black box as long as my leg. "Hey, Agron, I got this fixed for you already, hope you like it," he says, smiling.

I stop, and lift off the cover, placing it underneath the box. I gasp as I hope I'm not dreaming that this is actually happening.

My gladius sparkles as sunlight hits it, the newly polished gold handle forcing me to look away as I grin with happiness. And, my favorite part: engraved near the handle is the phrase, beauty does not make you weak, translated to Latin. I smile and give Dan a hug; so far, he's done so much for me. "Thank you, Dan. I can't thank you enough."

He hugs me back, and I can smell that strange scent of fire and lemons, the familiar smell I know and grew up with back in Ohio. He strokes my hair, and at some times, I can feel his rough, callused hands touch my head. Dan Korman is probably one of the very few Legacies that inherited an ability from his demigod parent, in this kid's case, he's a whiz with machinery. Can fix almost anything I've seen, and finish it in less than a week if it's nothing too difficult. "How about a kiss, Agron?" he asks, hopeful.

I laugh. This thing has been going on for years, and it's hilarious. It all started back in our hometown: Wayne County, Ohio. Me, Dan, and our old friends Kyle and Helen were playing near the lake. Helen was pushed into the lake by Dan, and she couldn't swim, so Kyle had to jump in and save her. Dan and I both knew that Kyle had fallen in love with Helen that summer and Helen felt the same. So, playfully, after being all Supermanly and sweeping the redhead off her feet, he asked, "How about a kiss, Helen Morgan?"

She replied, "If you'd like, Kyle Wasson." And they made out for probably three minutes. Dan and I found it awkward, so we hopped onto our bikes and left. From that moment on, whenever we'd ask favors from each other, one would go, "How about a kiss?" and most likely, the answer would be no. We were fourteen when everything happened, two years of being in Camp Jupiter. Not a single kiss passed between us.

"No, thanks, Daniel," I say, laughing and letting go.

He pouted, as always. "Are you sure?"

Just before I could reply, Jane, the daughter of Vulcan, runs towards me and touches my shoulder. "Agron, come quick! Chris has something to report to the whole camp."