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"What word rhymes with purple?"

Casey slowly looked up from her game of solitaire. She thought for a moment, flipping the ace of spades between her fingers.

"Absolutely nothing," she finally answered laying her card down with a pleased look.

"That can't be right," Sylvester sighed strumming a few absent notes on his guitar.

"Trust me," Casey said, staring at the card in her hand.

"Well damn," he muttered under his breath as he crossed out words on the piece of paper beside him, "now what am I suppose to do."

"Read me the lyrics," she said thoughtfully, "maybe I can help."

"Hey that's a good idea," Sylvester smiled. Gently, he plucked out a soft rhythm from the guitar letting the notes rise and fall before adding his voice to the music.

I see blue when I look at you

You remind me of the deep navy sea

Your movements so wild and oh so free

Everyday you're a different hue

I see blue when I look at you

I feel red when I talk to you

My heart beats fast and my cheeks go cherry

My hands feel heavy like they're too much to carry

I don't know how you cast your voodoo

But I feel red when I talk to you

I could be green or yellow or even chartreuse

Any color you want for the feelings you induce

I could be ivory or mauve or least of all purple

The strumming came to a halt and Sylvester looked up with irritation.

"See I have nothing to rhyme with purple. Why on earth would no body think to come up with a word that—why are you laughing?"

"That's your song," she howled falling on her back from laughter, "that is what you came up with?! It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. 'I see blue when I look at you' where did you come up with that?"

Sylvester was indignant, "I thought it was quite good up until the purple part."

"Geez, Sly, that was more sappy than all the trees in Vermont," Casey cried still laughing.

"Now I remember why I never share my music," he grumbled.

"Oh that just made my day," Casey sighed with content, wiping a tear from her eye.

"I don't know why I bother," he moaned falling dramatically on his bed.

Unfamiliar silence fell on the cabin as he sulked. That was strange. It was never this quiet in the Apollo cabin. Usually there was singing or laughter or talking or sometimes the occasional crying but now it was just silent.

"Hey Casey, where the heck is everybody," Sylvester jerked up looking around.

"Showing the newbie around," Casey said absently, her full attention back on the card game.

"What newbie," he questioned standing up, "nobody told me we were getting a new camper."

"Martin did last night," Casey said frowning as she looked for a place for the Jack of hearts, "but I think you were too busy making goo goo eyes at that Hermes girl."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he blushed.

"Like I care," she said rolling her eyes.

"How come you didn't go to meet the new kid?"

Casey's head jerked up from the cards a venomous look on her face but as soon as it appeared it was hidden by a blank expression, "no reason."

"Right," Sylvester said sarcastically.

"Why would I want to show some newbie around the camp all day," she snapped, "it's right on the bottom of my to-do list, just a step below having a staring contest with Medusa."

"It looks like somebody is suffering from youngest child syndrome," he smirked coming to stand behind her, "little Casey is no longer the baby of the family."

Without even blinking her hand shot up grabbing him by the collar and pulling him down to eye level. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him with eyes a fiery red, "I dare you to call me little Casey again."

"I'm good," Sylvester squeaked.

"Good boy," she smiled, releasing his shirt from her iron grip.

"And this is the cabin where you will be sleeping," Martin's voice boomed as he walked into the room.

Casey and Sylvester's head turned as their siblings entered. Scout was followed in by a girl a head shorter than her.

"Guys meet Matilda," Scout said stepping to the side to let them get a better look at her.

Sylvester plastered a winning smile onto his face and held out a hand, "Hello there Matil—what the—I mean h-hi."

Matilda glared back at him with arms crossed and a killer frown. She was not exactly what a person would expect a child of the sun god to look like. For starters her skin was so white it made the dead look like they had a rosy complexion. While the roots of her hair showed she was clearly blonde the rest was bad-dye- job black. She was covered head to toe in black, which only served to make her even paler. The plaster of mascara and eye liner did not help much either.

Casey took one look at her and frowned, "you have got to be kidding me."

"Casey," Scout nudged her, "be nice."

"Fine,' she growled before slipping on a smile that looked like it physically pained her, "hello Matilda."

"That's not my name," she said in an emotionless voice.

"Ha," Jasper laughed triumphantly, "so you do talk!"

Martin jabbed him with his elbow and gave him a pointed glare.

"Err do you have another name you want to be called?" Martin asked politely, "I mean Casey's real name is Cassandra and Scout is actually Antoinette."

"Martin," Scout furiously snapped.

"I prefer Sunny," she deadpanned.

"I would laugh but I think you're being serious," Jasper noted.


"She didn't say a word the whole time we were showing her around," Jasper complained flopping onto his bed, "and she kept staring at me. Gave me the creeps."

"Hmm," Casey sniffed, "did anyone even check to make sure we're related? I think she would have felt more at home with Clarisse and her gang."

"Would it kill you all to be nice," Scout sighed. She was on her bed staring up at the ceiling with her hands held behind her head, deep in thought. "Think about what she is going through right now. She just learned she is demi-god and has to move away from her family because there are horrible monsters out there wanting to kill her. She is obviously not going to be Miss Sunshine on the first day."

"I was never like that," Jasper admonished staring out the window at his newest sibling. Sunny was sitting out on a bench picking petals off a flower. He could not help but wince every time she mutilated a petal off the flower.

"Everyone takes the news differently," she snapped.

"Speaking of news," Martin smiled coming to stand in the middle of the room, "I have come up with a new plan. And this one is foolproof."

"Well anything tops your last grand idea," Sylvester smirked picking up his guitar, "let's hear it."

"All right but we're going to need two pieces of rope, about four rolls of duct tape and a lemon meringue pie."

"I am amazed no one has locked you up yet," Casey gaped.


She was ten when he had come to visit. It was the second time she had met him. They had met before when she was three but she hardly counted that as meeting him. She had been sitting at the piano gently kneading out notes while her mother was curled on the couch, still weak from her last bout of illness.

Marcus was out on a business trip and her step-brother was out probably drowning puppies. It was just her and Mama. That was the way it should be.

Moonlight Sonata was lazily drifting through the massive house when a rap echoed on the door.

"Who could that be," her mother asked puzzled, feebly lifting up her head to stare in the direction of the door.

"I'll go and look, Mama," she said, curiously moving to the door, "you lie back down."

She slowly opened the large door to reveal an impressive figure of a man (although he looked to be only in his teens). Golden locks shadowed his handsome face and he was lean and well tanned in an un-tucked collared shirt and jeans.

"Hey Scout," the stranger smiled flashing her a bright teeth.

"Who are you," she asked confused. No one but Mama called her Scout.

The man's smiled seemed to wane a little before he began to speak only to be interrupted by her mother.

"Darling, who is at the door?"

Mama floated gracefully over to her; even when sick she managed to hold an elegant air about her.

"Hello Juliette," the man nodded to her.

"Apollo," she breathed suddenly looking frailer then when she was sick, "what are you doing here?"

"Just checking in," he smiled stepping through the doorway.

"Is that all," her mother raised an eyebrow before breaking into a coughing fit.

"You're sick," Apollo frowned moving closer to her.

He gently led her down the hallway and back to the couch. The whole time she had him watched carefully, ready to pounce should he make one false move. But he didn't. Apollo sat Mama onto the couch his hand gently rubbing her back as he whispered something she could not understand.

It was as if he has cast some sort of spell. Instantly, Mama's cheeks gained color and her hands no longer trembled. Her face looked young and healthy and her eyes were bright and alert.

"You didn't have to do that," she smiled.

"Oh please, I am the God of Healing."

"Hmm," she tensed, "and what exactly brings you back here after seven years?"

"I want to speak with you about a camp…"

They talked for a while but she could hardly understand what they were discussing. She noted Mama grimace every time the man mentioned camp but she could not understand why. She loved going to camp every summer.

Eventually, the man stood up to leave a somewhat dissatisfied look on his face. He moved swiftly to the door pulling out a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of his jeans.

"You will send her there, Juliette," he said as he opened the door.

Mama did not answer. She just stared out at the man as he slipped casually into a beautiful, red car.

"Who was that, Mama?" She asked as the car sped off out of sight.

"You probably don't remember him, darling," she said softly, pulling her close, "that was your father. He was the one who actually started calling you Scout."

"Oh," she whispered suddenly thoughtful.


"I think I have a plan," Scout suddenly said rolling off her bed, "and it's a good plan."

"A plan for what?" Sunny asked sullenly, sulking into the cabin.

"Parents Day is coming up," Martin explained, "We are hoping to get Father to come."

"I hate parents," she said in monotone.

"That's a surprise," Casey muttered.

"All right everyone shut up and listen," Scout said moving to the center of the floor, "we have two days left to get Father here, so this needs to be executed perfectly."

"Fine," Sylvester smiled, "let's hear it."

"We're going to steal his lyre," she said simply.

"That's it?" Jasper prodded, "That's the great plan? What is to stop Father from blasting us into a million pieces when he discovers we took one of his most prized possessions?"

"I've thought of that already," Scout held up a finger, "we are going to take it the day before Parents Day. If we go while it is light out we will know that he is not there, it will be perfect. And when he finally does realize that we have taken it, the festivities will already have started and our parents will be there. Father won't blast us into oblivion with all our mothers watching."

"I like it," Sylvester said scratching his chin, "it's simple, clever and doesn't involve pie."

"But we don't even know where he lives," Jasper pointed out, "not to mention if he even keeps the lyre in his house."

"He has a place in Miami," Casey said nonchalantly, "and he doesn't take it out with him when he is driving the sun chariot."

"How do you know that?" Martin asked bewildered.

Casey shrugged, "I heard one of Artemis's huntresses talking about it. Apparently they like to keep a close eye on him after what happened with this one Daphne chick."

"Well," Scout smiled, "any objections?"

"Nope," they all said in unison.


A/N: Okay so I know Apollo seemed a little OOC in that flashback but that is the way I have always pictured him.

I hope you enjoyed this installment and the faster you REVIEW the faster I get a chapter up!