For Hestia. BTW Don't Trust Luke Castellan

Unbelievable. I left the boy alone for two hours, two, and my hero had somehow managed to get the whole Ares cabin against him.

If I remember correctly, I once expressed my complete despair using the phrase: Why, why did it had to be Perseus Jackson? Well, why did it had to be him?

Never before had I met a hero with such a long list of enemies, certainly not one who had not even officially started his career as one. At this pace, when and if Perseus lived to be eighteen, he'd have half of the mythical would after his guts. Maybe three fourths.

So we sat on the floor of the overflowing Hermes cabin facing one another, the other "heroes" went on about their daily lives, throwing various heavy items at each other from across the room and shouting unsavory words I would never utter. At least not out loud.

Anyways, I listened to Perseus as he told me about the things he'd learned and I had missed. Nothing of great importance, really. Or, you know what?, I'll let you decide for yourself. This is what Perseus told me:

Mr. Brunner was a centaur. His real name was Chiron and he'd trained Hercules. Horses had wings. He was probably dreaming. Every kid in here was the son or daughter of a Greek god and they said he was too. A god wad the camp's director. Maybe he had bats in the belfry. There were naids in the creek and they like him. And could I please at least try to look concerned?

"I thought we already talked about this?" I said, rubbing my eyes behind my glasses. They were still sensitive to the light.

"You never mentioned any of this!" Perseus protested.

"Didn't I told you some of the Greek myths were real?"

"You said some not them." He pointed out. "And you never said the goods were real."

"I included them in the some."

We didn't got to continue our argument for one of the sons of Hermes decided to interrupt.

"Found you a sleeping bag," he said. "And here, I stole you some toiletries from the camp store."

The boy looked about nineteen. His eyes were a clear blue and his hair a sandy brown. Everything in him screamed son of Hermes. Also, he had only "found" one sleeping bag. I decided I did not like him.

"Thanks." Perseus said.

"No prob." The son of Hermes plopped down beside Perseus, his gaze focused on me.

"I'm Eve." I said, before he asked, and stuck my hands out for him to shake. His hand was warm, mine had always been cold.

"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood then, Eve." The son of Hermes said, grinning. "I'm Luke Castellan."

But I wasn't looking at the son of Hermes any longer. Instead, I was seeing a shadow slip unseen from the Olympian trone room, carrying a bundle under one arm, sulfur dust turning into a livid Fury, and a pair of glowing golden eyes.

I forced myself not to look too unkindly upon Luke Castellan and nodded once.

"I take it you two aren't too freaked out yet."

"Who says we aren't?" I said.

"Yet?" asked Perseus.

The son of Hermes chuckled. "It's not every day that we get two newbies that don't try to escape or say they don't belong here."

"How do you know we're not trying to escape?" I said "We were just starting to craft or matter plan before you came."

"Should I leave then?" He was smiling.

Yes. "Nah." Unfortunately, my hero seemed to like this Luke Castellan and there was nothing too obvious in which to base my suspicions that Perseus might believe. "We'll do it later."

"Umm, Eve?" Perseus said.

"Yes?"

"If Luke knows we're planning to escape wouldn't he try to stop us?"

"Let him try."

"We're doomed."

I shook my head. "So little faith."

Castellan laughed. "Are you two siblings?"

I looked at Perseus, he looked at me. We looked at Luke. "No." We said I unison."Why?"

"I guess it's just that you look alike," Apparently, that hit from the guardian of the Garden of The Hesperides had, besides earning him the scar that ran across his face, also ailed his brain. "And came to camp together."

"That's because Eve's been following me..."

"He means looking after."

"And she appeared out of nowhere."

"She did?" The look on Castellan's eyes had changed. Turned from merely amused to interested and I didn't like it.

Fortunately, the sound of a horn blowing saved me from having to come up with some quick answer for that.

"Eleven, fall in!" Luke yelled.

The whole Hermes cabin, Perseus and I included, followed Luke out of the cabin and towards the dining pavilion.

I offered part of my meal to Hestia, figuring she was the last likely to blast new off the face of Gaea upon sensing my precense, and lamented the fact that my hero had rotten judgement.

So far, his only friends were a coward half- goat, an insufferable know-it-all, a god dammed lier, and a future evil lord.

...

The following weeks went by uneventfully, awfully dull, and I could have ended up pushing up daisies out boredom had I not been breaking my head trying to find a way to prove myself to Chiron.

I had no idea of what to do. And how could I, when the most heroic thing I've ever done is... no, forget it. I have never done anything that could be considered heroic by Chiron's standards, or anyone's for that matter.

Anyways, we spent our first weeks at Camp Half-Blood running through a sort of routine: First, ancient Greek lessons with the daughter of Athena, then archery with the Apollo cabin (Note to self: never let Perseus use a bow ever again), running with nymphs, and sword practice with Luke whom Perseus managed to beat once.

In our free time, I discovered a fondness for metalwork and Perseus did wonderful at canoeing.

Hah! Who am I kidding? I hated it in there. Every waking minute, Chiron or his wretched campers or both were looking at me, wanting to see what I could do, and every single night I had to sleep on the floor of the infamous Hermes cabin. How hard was it for the Olympians to send a bleeeeping sign to claim their sons and daughters?

And to make matters worse, my hero wanted to go to the Underworld and rescue his mother. He never mentioned his suicidal ideas to anyone, but he'd asked Grover about the previous, and may I add expired, heroes who'd gone to quests through the Underworld and questioned me for everything I might know about said subject. I told him the basics.

I missed my home.

...

The one entertaining thing that happened during those austere weeks was a game of Capture the Flag, a strange tradition tat took place of Fridays and never failed to produce injuried campers.

It was our first game. Hermes, Athena, and some others I can't remembered against Ares, Hephaestus, and some others I refuse to remember.

Now, I could go and on boring you with every single little detail of that night, but I won't. I am fairly sure you, that is if you are a real demigod, will remember this day.

So I will procede to tell you the highlights instead: Annabeth set Perseus and I as the fearsome (read unimpressive) guardians If the creek. As per usual, some of my hero's enemies tried to do away with us but we managed to keep afloat. Then a hellhound appeared and came this short of slicing my hero to ribbons. Fortuitously, we still found ourselves by the creek and Perseus was able to heal by its waters. It was then that Poseidon decided to send a sign claiming Perseus as his son.

That night, two things became official: My hero was the son of the sea god and every single living monster was after his guts.

Hello my lovelies! I know it's been a long time but my internet's been wonky and I've been trying to sue the school board because of all the homework they're giving us. Anyways, I'll normally update on Sundays or Mondays.

Meanwhile, here's something for you to think about: what is one of the things Eve avoids saying? There are three of them. Leave your answer in the comments and I'll let you know if you're right next Sunday!