A/N: Hi, there! I'm feeling rather perky today, I don't know why. I wanted to give some shout-outs:

BarrelRacer13
Greenlem
Chloemacefieldluvstratie
Nanu Kitty
MidnightParade

Disclaimer: I disclaim. All rights go to the rightful recipient Rick Riordan. I love alliteration.

Travis looks both left and right before crossing the intersection. "If someone sees, and knows we're not old enough to be out of high school, they'll assume we're ditching," he explains, and nearly trips over the curb, but catches himself, and adds, "which, I suppose, we are, in a sense."

I roll my eyes, and follow closely behind him. "Can you please tell me where we're going?"

"I can. But I won't. Not yet."

I roll my eyes and continue, my feet getting a little sore. After about five minutes of walking, he stops at a place just off the business district.

It's a broken down building with a faded, lopsided sign that says: Billy's Warehouse. It looks abandoned, and I'm beginning to fear what Travis brought me here for.

Travis catches my expression and gasps, "no! No! Oh, gods, no. Try to see through the Mist. Focus. Really, really see."

I sigh, and do as he says. As I watch, something changes. It's so slight, I barely notice it. But it's so obvious, how could I not notice? In a matter of seconds, it's no longer Billy's Warehouse.

It's the Olympian Lounge.

"What-?" I breath.

Travis guides me through a door, and into a slightly dim room with round tables and chairs, some occupied with kids of different ages. Some our age, some twelve, or thirteen. Some are older, seventeen or eighteen or college-aged.

The walls are a teal color, with swirls of different colors every here and there. I note the swords and knives laid casually on the tables or in scabbards. It's like a crazy, crazy dream.

A brilliant dream.

"It's a 100% demigod hang out place. It's awesome, right?" Travis asks. "Hidden from mortals, and completely safe. Well, not really. But it's still awesome." He grins, and I grin back. I must look so goofy, being so happy.

"How-how have I never known about this?" I am so ecstatic, but still curious.

Travis shrugs. "I dunno, really. A few demigods do. It's mostly known on the inside. Mostly people who spend their days gossiping. I manage to stay connected. You, however, mostly have your head in the tulips during the summer."

I roll my eyes, and laugh. "Tulips are winter flowers."

Travis takes my hand and leads me to a table. A nymph drifts towards us.

"Two Diet Cokes, please," Travis tells her.

"I'm sorry. Dionysus, er, drank it. He's had a bad strike with Chiron back at camp playing pinochle. Diet Coke is his alternative for alcohol and stuff. Would Coca Cola be fine?"

We both nod, and she drifts away, tapping with her fingers with the beat of the music playing. It's melodious.

"It's cool, huh?" Travis sees me nod, and goes on. "Before I was a year-rounder at Camp Half-Blood, I was always here during the winter."

A group of giggling girls, presumably daughters of Aphrodite, came to our table.

"'Sup, Travis?" One with short, elegant blonde hair and thin eyebrows asks.

"How are ya, Trav?" Another, this one with pinkish-orangish hair and impossibly short shorts (especially when it's winter).

"How's it going, Traviekins?" This one wears over-the-top makeup, like she's ready to hit the runway.

The nicknames are enough to make me laugh and puke simultaneously. I try not to laugh, instead, I shove my knuckles to my mouth so I won't make a sound.

Travis turns scarlet and says, "Nothing much. I'm fine."

The girls giggle more, and shuffle away.

I release my hand and laugh. "Well, that, was. . ." I can't finish my sentence before I'm laughing again.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh now. But when they stampede you sometime, trying to get to me, you won't be laughing."

I raise my eyebrows, "Well, don't you have a high opinion of yourself. But I will still be laughing."

The nymph comes with two red cans of soda, and two glasses with ice. "Enjoy," she says.

We do. I pour half of the can into my glass, and drink in sips. A boy with black spiky hair comes up to Travis.

Travis stands.

"Hey, man, how've you been?" They do that weird guy hug thing where they grasp hands and chest bump.

"I been great, man! I haven't seen you in a while! How've you been?"

"I've been awesome. You look a lot older than when I last saw you! How long's it been? Two, three years?" The boy with the black hair asks.

"'Bout, yeah."

"Well, it's great to see you 'gain. Keep in touch 'right?" Travis nods, and the boy walks away.

Travis sits back down, and drinks a little of his Coca Cola. "I have no idea who that was," he admits, with a short chuckle.

I give a short, stiff laugh. We listen to the music for a few moments. I ask Travis what time it is, and he says it is one o'clock. We finish our sodas.

"What now?" I ask, tired of awkward silence.

"'S up to you," Travis replies with a shrug.

He leaves two drachma on the table, and he motions for me to take his hand. It's so corny I almost snort, but don't. I take his hand. It's warm and bigger than my hand, a little rougher too, but somehow soft. I have not a clue how that works.

This time, while we're walking, Travis doesn't look around. School is already out, so no worries. I don't know where we're going. All I am aware of is Travis's hand around mine. I mentally slap myself. I refuse to. I refuse to consider.

"I can take you home if you want," Travis mumbles.

I nod a slight "sure", but I'm not sure I want to go home. Home is dark and enclosed and . . . a little depressing. It's too quiet.

"Or not, if you don't want to," he adds.

"Do you remember when Adam stopped us at the park?" I blurt suddenly, unintentionally.

Travis looks at me, a single eyebrow raised. "Well, yeah, it was just a few days ago. What about it?"

"I have a bad feeling. I dunno. Maybe it's nothing. It's probably nothing."

Travis glances at me suspiciously, but he doesn't pry. I'll tell him eventually.

I clap a hand to my forehead. "My garden!" I suddenly remember my plants that I haven't cared for in a while. Only watering them. I need to be in a general proximity in order for them to blossom to their fullest potential.

How could I have been so neglectful? How could I have even thought for a moment I could put off my garden? It's like a switch has been flipped and I suddenly feel an intense sensation of shame and guilt.

"I'll take you home."

I feel very disappointed in myself. I've been so neglectful, and, because of that, I both have a garden of browning plants, and I have to go home.

Travis trips a little. Are you okay? I ask silently. He shrugs it off.

The day started bad, got better, and ended worse.