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I looked down and saw Kat as I had never, ever expected to see her.
She was crying.
Not that that in itself was incomprehensible. After all, she'd spent her life not knowing her father, and to suddenly have hope of finding out who he was, only to have it snatched away from her just as quickly, well, I spent most of my life not knowing MY father, so I guess I could relate. But… this was Katrina Serton. I'd seen her demolish half a dozen fighters at a time. Just an hour ago, she'd obliterated over twenty wild harpies on her own.
And now, she was kneeling on the floor, sobbing into her hands, her bright blue hair pasted across her forehead. It was hard to reconcile the two images. Then reconcile them later you insensitive jerk I mentally chastised my self. Analyze later. Help Now.
I sidled up to her and plonked my butt beside hers, placing a hand softly on her shoulder, while my other hand groped around on a nearby table for a napkin or a tissue. I found one, and turned to Kat.
Slowly, carefully, I removed the hair from her eyes and handed her the napkin. I looked into her bright green eyes, now swamped with tears, and just said "How can I help?"
She shook her head and went to get up, started to tell me that she didn't need help, that she was gonna be fine.
"That's rubbish Katrina." I said, unfalteringly. "You're obviously upset. Now tell me how I can make it better."
She looked at me in surprise. To be honest, I was a tad surprised myself. After all, my normal response to emotional women had been to run for the hills, usually screaming.
"It's just… I don't like to talk about it." She said, faintly.
"I get that Katrina. I didn't want to talk about my ADHD or my dyslexia for years. I still don't feel comfortable discussing it. But keeping it all inside, bottling it all up, well, it almost destroyed me. Keeping it from everyone, it was a full time job. So trust me, please. Open up, even just a little. It will help, I promise."
She blew her runny nose into the napkin, turned to the side, and in a voice so faint I could barely hear, she said "Okay."
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I guided Kat to a table on the far side of the room, far away from anyone who might be listening, though that wasn't hard. By now, the food court was practically deserted by now, and all that was still open was a sandwich bar and what looked like an ice cream stall. I made a mental note of that, if things went badly, Ice cream might be instrumental in cheering her up again…
Katrina looked up at me, and said, in a throaty voice. "You know I never knew my dad, right?" I nodded, having heard this from Zane, all those… days ago (was it really only 3 weeks since I'd come to Camp half blood? It seemed so much longer…) "I was abandoned on the doorstop of Camp when I was less then a year old, with a note saying my name, and my birthday. That was it. I've tried looking for my Dad, but without a description or a first name, it's impossible to find someone if they don't want to be found these days." The look in her eyes was almost desperate.
"Anyway, I spent the first twelve years of my life in the Hermes cabin. You know what it's like in there, it's rowdy, overcrowded, your stuff gets nicked if its not padlocked 3 times and cursed. So early on, I figured I could get out of there by impressing my godly parent. So I spent my entire life trying to be the perfect camper. The perfect warrior. But no matter how many fights I won, no matter how many times I helped my team win capture the flag, I was still unclaimed. I hated it. I really did."
"So how did you get claimed then?" I asked, very curious now.
"I grew an apple tree in an Ares camper's stomach." She said, looking me straight in the eye.
"What? You grew a TREE inside of someone? How is that even possible?"
"This guy was picking on a pair of kids, they were like 3 years old for Hera's sake, and I just got so mad that I drew my sword and leapt at him, screaming in Greek, before I got near him though, he just sort of keeled over and started moaning, and his chest was squirming, like something was trying to burst out." A vision of that scene from Alien flashed through my mind, where the infected guy explodes on the table in a shower of fake blood and gore. "Anyway, it turned out I'd managed to make an apple seed inside him germinate, and well, it was enough to convince Demeter that it was time to claim me." She paused for breath.
"But even after I moved to Demeter cabin, I still wasn't happy. I was suddenly expected to drop all my extra sword fighting practice and combat training, and use my nature powers to grow pwetty little flowers for the camp and other pointless exercises." Her voice dripped with scorn.
I remembered how my siblings had treated me when I had been claimed, dragging me along to music and poetry classes I had no interest in, making me spend hours engaged in activities that held no interest for me. Enough Artie. You're here to LISTEN not think about yourself.
Kat had started speaking again. "And now this Phineas comes up, tells me he knows my father, that his undoing was his glory or his honor or something. I mean what, does that mean he's dead? Or what?" I could see she was shaking with anger and frustration. "So there, that's me. I opened up, are you happy?"
"I once spent 3 days without sleep revising for a 5th grade spelling test that got cancelled, and I can still name every single word on that list, in order and spell them all, all these years later." I said, a hint of an edge entering my voice.
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Katrina asked me, though, I could she the barest hints of a smile creeping into her expression.
"No. I just figured, since you were sharing something private, I'd tell you something that I'd never told another soul." I said, my tone sincere.
"Oh my god. You're actually serious, aren't you?" She laughed out loud, lighting up her face. I noticed that she obviously hadn't been wearing much makeup, because her tears hadn't made it smudge or run at all. "You're a serious fricken wackadoodle, you know that? I mean, obsessing over spelling tests and silly second grade projects, counting your steps, it's all a bit insane really."
"You don't have to live with it. I mean, seriously, try sleeping when your brain is screaming 'You should be training' 24/7. It's like something's trying to control me, guide me." I said, a little annoyed.
"Yeah. Wackadoodle. Hey, how many steps to that counter over there?" She asked, pointing a stall we'd passed earlier.
"27." I blurted out, completely unconsciously. "Ahh, I hate that. It really creeps me out saying things like that when I don't even know the answer."
"How far to central park?" She asked between gasps of laughter.
"4796 steps" I said. "STOP IT!" I yelled. "You're freaking me out here."
"Hey, it's your weird brain." She shot back, but refrained from asking how far it was to anywhere else.
"Look lets get out of here. I think I saw a small BnB on the way with a vacancy. They'll probably be a bit more lax when it comes to minors renting rooms."
"Sounds good. Say, how many steps is it from here?" she asked, mischievously.
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We talked more for the whole night, old crushes, training techniques, amusing anecdotes. By the time the sun rose, it was like we'd known each other for years. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so completely at ease with someone. But then, this is pretty much the first time you've been totally straight up with someone, I thought to myself.
Anyway, we headed to the building Phineas had told us was the location of this Lycos and his wall. Thankfully, it wasn't far from the BnB. (3670 steps, if like Kat you had been wondering.)
I remembered what Phineas had told us about this monster. Apprehensiously, I knocked the door. There was no response. I turned to Kat, and asked "Are we absolutely sure this is the right place?" She nodded.
I reached into my backpack and pulled out the breast plate that Kat had made for me from the behemoths scale. I slipped it beneath my hoody, and it adjusted itself to fit my body. Handy that…wonder how it works. Without more ado, I took a few steps back, and lunged at the door, striking it with my shoulder and driving my entire mass through. I crashed straight through and landed in a roll. My eyes struggled to adjust to the dark of the room. My hand strayed oh so slightly to my staff.
Suddenly, a harsh, evil voice that haunts me to this day filled the room. It was like a knife scraping through skin mixed in with a howl of some large predator.
"I don't remember ordering takeout… but I never look a gift horse in the mouth."
I looked up.
Straight into the eyes of a werewolf.
WHOA! CLIFFIE! Now what are you gonna do? I think this is it until after my exams, I'm afraid, so I tired to make it a longer then ordinary chapter. As per usual, each reviewer gets to ask me 1 question about the story.