Chapter 3

Irene, Chiron, and Percy passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the minotaur horn Percy was carrying. Another said, "That's him."

Irene could see Percy's discomfort clearly. He looked around with no particular expression on his face, but he was clearly nervous with his new environment.

"What's up there?" Percy asked Chiron while pointing at the attic.

"Just the attic." Chiron said, his smile fading.

"Somebody lives there?"

"No," he said with finality. "Not a single living thing. Come along, Percy," Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. "Lots to see."

They walk past the strawberry field, and Chiron began to explain about it and Mr. D's effect on fruit-bearing plants. Irene tried to remember the first time she arrived and wondered if Chiron said the same thing.

"Grover won't get in too much trouble, will he?" Percy asked Chiron. "I mean ... he was a good protector. Really."

Chiron sighed. He shed his tweed jacket and draped it over his horse back like a saddle. "Grover has big dreams, Percy. Perhaps bigger than are reasonable. To reach his goal, he must first demonstrate great courage by succeeding as a keeper, finding a new camper and bringing him safely to Half-Blood Hill."

"But he did that!"

"I might agree with you," Chiron said. "But it is not my place to judge. Dionysus and the Council of Cloven Elders must decide. I'm afraid they might not see this assignment as a success. After all, Grover lost you in New York. Then there's the unfortunate ... ah ... fate of your mother. And the fact that Grover was unconscious when you dragged him over the property line. The council might question whether this shows any courage on Grover's part."

Irene could see Percy's guilty look. It reminded her of herself when she was younger each time Chiron scolded her for one thing or another.

"He'll get a second chance, won't he?"

Chiron winced. "I'm afraid that was Grover's second chance, Percy. The council was not anxious to give him another, either, after what happened the first time, five years ago. Olympus knows, I advised him to wait longer before trying again. He's still so small for his age... ."

"How old is he?"

"Oh, twenty-eight."

"What! And he's in sixth grade?"

"Satyrs mature half as fast as humans, Percy. Grover has been the equivalent of a middle school student for the past six years."

"That's horrible."

"Quite," Chiron agreed. "At any rate, Grover is a late bloomer, even by satyr standards, and not yet very accomplished at woodland magic. Alas, he was anxious to pursue his dream. Perhaps now he will find some other career... ."

"That's not fair," Percy said. "What happened the first time? Was it really so bad?"

"It was." Irene muttered.

Chiron looked away quickly. "Let's move along, shall we?"

Irene started to get bored with their conversation. She only had enough interest to listen. Suddenly a watering can 'flew' near them and splashed its contents onto Chiron. Luckily it didn't hit his head. Percy looked absolutely horrified.

"Ah, Irene my dear, would you mind?" Chiron asked calmly as if nothing happens. Irene giggled and made a swift motion with her hand. In an instant the water vaporized from Chiron. Percy stared in awe, but then he asked something that made even Irene stiffen.

"Chiron," he said. "If the gods and Olympus and all that are real ...Does that mean the Underworld is real, too?"

Chiron's expression darkened. "Yes, child." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "There is a place where spirits go after death. But for now…until we know more…I would urge you to put that out of your mind."

"What do you mean, 'until we know more'?"

"Come, Percy. Let's see the woods."

They continued their tour. Percy seemed to enjoy the forest view enough. Or maybe he was marveling at how large the forest was. Probably the later was more precise.

Chiron said, "The woods are stocked, if you care to try your luck, but go armed."

"Stocked with what?" he asked. "Armed with what?"

"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own sword and shield?"

"My own—?"

"No," Chiron said. "I don't suppose you do. I think a size five will do. I'll visit the armory later."

Percy looked like he wanted to ask something, but he decided against it. They saw the archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables (which Chiron didn't seem to like very much. Irene found it amusing when she was younger), the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the arena where they held sword and spear fights.

"Sword and spear fights?" Percy asked.

"Cabin challenges and all that," he explained. "Not lethal. Usually. Oh, yes, and there's the mess hall." Chiron pointed to an outdoor pavilion framed in white Grecian columns on a hill overlooking the sea. There were a dozen stone picnic tables. No roof. No walls.

"What do you do when it rains?" Percy asked.

Chiron looked at the boy as if he'd gone a little weird. But he said jokingly, "Irene could probably handle that. We still have to eat, don't we?"

Finally, Chiron showed Percy the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side. Except for the fact that each had a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), they looked absolutely nothing alike. Irene recalled that she used to think it was odd the first time she arrived. But after she learned the true usage of the cabins, it made sense.

In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined firepit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A girl about nine years old, which was actually Hestia (yeah, the Hestia, goddess of hearth), was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick. Irene greeted her, and Hestia smiled as a response.

The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin one was the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmered like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them. Cabin two was more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peacocks.

"Zeus and Hera?" Percy guessed. Irene admitted that the boy was smarter than he looked.

"Correct," Chiron said.

"Their cabins look empty."

"Several of the cabins are. That's true. No one ever stays in one or two."

Percy stopped in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three.

"Ah, that would be Irene's cabin." Chiron said.

"Why is it so empty? I mean, is there no one except Irene that stays here?"

"Nope. I'm alone here. I don't mind if you want to join me, though." Irene grins. Percy stuttered nervously. Obviously he didn't like the idea of staying with a girl in one big cabin. Too bad. They continued along their way.

"We haven't seen any other centaurs," Percy observed.

"No," said Chiron sadly. "My kinsmen are a wild and barbaric folk, I'm afraid. You might encounter them in the wilderness, or at major sporting events. But you won't see any here."

"You said your name was Chiron. Are you really ..."

He smiled down at Percy. "The Chiron from the stories? Trainer of Hercules and all that? Yes, Percy, I am."

"But, shouldn't you be dead?"

Chiron paused, as if the question intrigued him. "I honestly don't know about should be. The truth is, I can't be dead. You see, eons ago the gods granted my wish. I could continue the work I loved. I could be a teacher of heroes as long as humanity needed me. I gained much from that wish ... and I gave up much. But I'm still here, so I can only assume I'm still needed."

"Doesn't it ever get boring?"

"No, no," he said. "Horribly depressing, at times, but never boring."

"Why depressing?"

Chiron seemed to turn hard on hearing again.

"Oh, look," he said. "Annabeth is waiting for us."

Annabeth was reading a book in front of the last cabin on the left, number eleven. When they reached her, she looked at Percy over critically, like she was still thinking about how much he drooled. Irene inwardly laughed to herself.

"Annabeth," Chiron said, "I have masters' archery class at noon. Would you take Percy from here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Cabin eleven," Chiron told Percy, gesturing toward the doorway. "Make yourself at home."

Out of all the cabins, eleven looked the most like a regular old summer camp cabin, with the emphasis on old. The threshold was worn down, the brown paint peeling. Over the doorway was a symbol, a winged pole with two snakes wrapped around it. A caduceus.

Inside, it was packed with people, both boys and girls, way more than the number of bunk beds. Sleeping bags were spread all over on the floor. It looked like a gym where the Red Cross had set up an evacuation center.

Chiron didn't go in. The door was too low for him. But when the campers saw him they all stood and bowed respectfully.

"Well, then," Chiron said. "Good luck, Percy. I'll see you at dinner." He galloped away toward the archery range.

Percy stood awkwardly in front of the door. He seemed to hate this kind of thing very much. Irene could understand. She lived in Hermes cabin once, for only one month before she got claimed.

"Well?" Annabeth prompted. "Go on."

Percy tripped. Some snickered, but they said nothing.

Annabeth announced, "Percy Jackson, meet cabin eleven."

"Regular or undetermined?" somebody asked.

"Undetermined."

Everybody groaned.

Luke came forward. "Now, now, campers. That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there."

"This is Luke," Annabeth introduced. "He's your counselor for now."

"For now?" Percy asked.

"You're undetermined," Luke explained patiently. "They don't know what cabin to put you in, so you're here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers."

"How long will I be here?" He asked.

"Good question," Luke said. "Until you're determined."

"How long will that take?"

The campers all laughed except Irene and Annabeth.

"Come on," Annabeth tug on his shirt. "I'll show you the volleyball court."

"I've already seen it."

"Come on." She grabbed his wrist and dragged Percy outside. Irene followed them with amusement. She wondered what Annabeth will say.

When they were were a few feet away, Annabeth said, "Jackson, you have to do better than that."

"What?"

She rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, "I can't believe I thought you were the one."

"What's your problem?" Percy was getting angry now. "All I know is, I kill some bull guy—"

"Don't talk like that!" Annabeth told me. "You know how many kids at this camp wish they'd had your chance?"

"To get killed?"

"He has a point." Irene pointed out. But Annabeth didn't pay attention.

"To fight the Minotaur! What do you think we train for?"

Percy shook his head. "Look, if the thing I fought really was the Minotaur, the same one in the stories…"

"Yes."

"Then there's only one."

"Yes."

"And he died, like, a gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So…"

"Monsters don't die, Percy. They can be killed. But they don't die,"

"Oh, thanks. That clears it up."

"They don't have souls, like you and me. You can dispel them for a while, maybe even for a whole lifetime if you're lucky. But they are primal forces. Chiron calls them archetypes. Eventually, they re-form."

"You mean if I killed one, accidentally, with a sword—"

"The Fur ... I mean, your math teacher. That's right. She's still out there. You just made her very, very mad."

"How did you know about Mrs. Dodds?"

"You talk in your sleep."

"You almost called her something. A Fury? They're Hades' torturers, right?"

Annabeth glanced nervously at the ground, as if she expected it to open up and swallow her.

"You shouldn't call them by name, even here. We call them the Kindly Ones, if we have to speak of them at all."

"Look, is there anything we can say without it thundering? do I have to stay in cabin eleven, anyway? Why is everybody so crowded together? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there." Percy pointed to the first few cabins, and Annabeth turned pale.

"You don't just choose a cabin, Percy. It depends on who your parents are. Or ... your parent."

"My mom is Sally Jackson," Percy said. "She works at the candy store in Grand Central Station. At least, she used to."

Irene's heart sank. Sally Jackson was her mom's name. Could Percy really be her brother? And what does he mean, 'used to'?

"I'm sorry about your mom, Percy. But that's not what I mean. I'm talking about your other parent. Your dad."

"He's dead. I never knew him."

Annabeth sighed. "Your father's not dead, Percy."

"How can you say that? You know him?"

"No, of course not."

"Then how can you say—"

"Because I know you. You wouldn't be here if you weren't one of us."

"You don't know anything about me."

"No?" She raised an eyebrow. "I bet you moved around from school to school. I bet you were kicked out of a lot of them."

"How—"

"Diagnosed with dyslexia. Probably ADHD, too."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Taken together, it's almost a sure sign. The letters float off the page when you read, right? That's because your mind is hardwired for ancient Greek. And the ADHD—you're impulsive, can't sit still in the classroom. That's your battlefield reflexes. In a real fight, they'd keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that's because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal's. Of course the teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters. They don't want you seeing them for what they are,"

"You sound like ... you went through the same thing?"

"Most of the kids here did. If you weren't like us, you couldn't have survived the Minotaur, much less the ambrosia and nectar,"

"Ambrosia and nectar,"

"The food and drink we were giving you to make you better. That stuff would've killed a normal kid. It would've turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and you'd be dead. Face it. You're a half-blood."

Then a husky voice yelled, "Well! A newbie!"

"Clarisse," Annabeth sighed. "Why don't you go polish your spear or something?"

"Sure, Miss Princess. So I can run you through with it Friday night."

''Erre es korakas!" Annabeth said. "You don't stand a chance."

"We'll pulverize you," Clarisse said, but her eye twitched. She turned toward Percy. "Who's this little runt?"

"Percy Jackson," Annabeth said, "meet Clarisse, Daughter of Ares."

He blinked. "Like ... the war god?"

Clarisse sneered. "You got a problem with that?"

"No," he said. "It explains the bad smell."

Irene laughed. "That's great, Percy! Teach me some of it!"

Clarisse growled at Irene and Percy. "We got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy."

"Percy."

"Ignoring people is rude, you know." Irene commented at Clarisse's lack of response to her.

"Whatever. Come on, I'll show you."

"Clarisse—" Annabeth tried to say.

"Stay out of it, wise girl."

"Clarisse," Irene said. "I'm warning you."

Clarisse stiffen, but didn't stop what she's doing. Percy handed Annabeth my minotaur horn as if he was getting ready to fight Clarisse,but before he knew it, Clarisse had him by the neck and dragged him toward the bathroom.

Clarisse's friends were all laughing, and Percy was struggling hard but he just could't find his strength.

"Like he's 'Big Three' material," Clarisse said as she pushed him toward one of the toilets.

"Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid looking." Her friends snickered.

Annabeth stood in the corner, watching through her fingers. While Irene calmly stared at the scene. Her sea-green eyes glinted dangerously. It was the first time Percy saw her so threateningly calm. It made her look more...menacing. Like her years of battle experience had just suddenly surfaced.

Clarisse bent him over on his knees and started pushing Percy's head towards the toilet bowl.

Percy struggled to keep his head away from the smelly waters. That was it. Irene lost her patience. She extended her hand.

The plumbing rumble, the pipes shudder. Clarisse's grip on Percy's hair loosened. Her eyes widened as if she realized that she pushed the wrong person's buttons. Water shot out of the toilet, making an arc straight over Percy's head and blew Clarisse's face. She screamed.

Percy turned just as water blasted out of the toilet again, hitting Clarisse straight in the face so hard it pushed her down onto her butt. The water stayed on her like the spray from a fire hose,pushing her backward into a shower stall.

She struggled, gasping, and her friends started coming toward her. But then the other toilets exploded, too, and six more streams of toilet water blasted them back. The showers acted up, too, and together all the fixtures sprayed the camouflage girls right out of the bathroom, spinning them around like pieces of garbage being washed away.

As soon as they were out the door, the water shut off as quickly as it had started. Irene let her hand down again and was staring at Clarisse with eyes that gave the impression of a raging sea.

The entire bathroom was flooded. Annabeth hadn't been spared. She was dripping wet, but she hadn't been pushed out the door. She was standing in exactly the same place, staring at both Percy and Irene in shock.

"Irene!" she whined.

"I didn't do that." Irene said. She frowned in puzzlement. She only triggered the toilets, not the showers. Probably she just got too carried away. She dried Annabeth with a single motion, smiling apologetically all the while.

Then Irene turned to Percy to do the same, but shocked to see that he sat dumbfounded on the only dry spot in the whole room. There was a circle of dry floor around him. Not one drop of water on his clothes. Nothing. He stood up, legs shaky and obviously shocked.

Annabeth said, "How did you… Irene, you didn't do that, did you?" Irene shook her head in reply. Annabeth was definitely questioning it inwardly.

They walked to the door. Outside, Clarisse and her friends were sprawled in the mud, and a bunch of other campers had gathered around to gawk. Clarisse's hair was flattened across her face. Her camouflage jacket was sopping and she smelled like sewage. She gave Irene and Percy a look of absolute hatred. "You are dead, new boy. You are totally dead."

Percy boldly said, "You want to gargle with toilet water again, Clarisse? Close your mouth." Her friends had to hold her back. They dragged her toward cabin five, while the other campers made way to avoid her flailing feet.

"You probably shouldn't say that. She knows she can't defeat me—that's why she hasn't threatened me—but she'll go after you." Irene warned. Percy shrugged.

Annabeth stared at Percy in an odd way. Irene could technically hear the gears in her head start turning.

"What?" Percy demanded. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," she said, "that I want you on my team for capture the flag. Both of you."

To Be Continued