Chapter 4: Demigod
Once I got over the fact that my Latin teacher was a horse, we had a nice tour though the occasional stares I got from the other campers only made my anxiety worse. We passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the minotaur horn I was carrying. Another said, "That's him."
Most of the campers were older than me. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters.
I tried my best to avoid there stares but it did nothing to stop my racing heart the way they stared at me made me uncomfortable. I felt there eyes on me a few of them whispered to each other and I managed to hear some of what they were saying.
"What's wrong with his face?" I looked back at the farmhouse in an attempt to ignore their stares. It was a lot bigger than I'd realized-four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, like an upscale seaside resort.
I was checking out the brass eagle weather vane on top when something caught my eye, a shadow in the uppermost window of the attic gable. Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and I got the distinct impression I was being watched.
"W-What's up there?" I asked Chiron. He looked where I was pointing, and his smile faded. "Just the attic." "Somebody lives there?" No, he said with finality. "Not a single living thing." I got the feeling he was being truthful.
But I was also sure something had moved that curtain. "Come along, Percy," Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. "Lots to see." We walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe.
Chiron told me the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus. "It pays our expenses," he explained. "And the strawberries take almost no effort." He said Mr. D had this effect on fruit-bearing plants: they just went crazy when he was around.
It worked best with wine grapes, but Mr. D was restricted from growing those, so they grew strawberries instead. I watched the satyr playing his pipe. His music was causing lines of bugs to leave the strawberry patch in every direction, like refugees fleeing a fire.
I wondered if Grover could work that kind of magic with music. I wondered if he was still inside the farmhouse, getting chewed out by Mr. D. "Grover w-won't get in too much trouble, will he?" I asked Chiron. "I mean ... he was a good protector. Really."
Chiron sighed. He shed his tweed jacket and draped it over his horses 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!" Percy said adamantly. "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."
I wanted to protest. None of what happened was Grover's fault. I also felt really, really guilty. If I hadn't given Grover the slip at the bus station, he might not have gotten in trouble-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! I-I thought he was sixteen. "Satyrs mature half as fast as humans, Percy. Grover has been the equivalent of a high-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 look shocked. "What happened the first time? Was it really so bad? "Chiron looked away quickly. "Let's move along, shall we?" But I wasn't quite ready to let the subject drop.
Something had occurred to me when Chiron talked about my mother's fate, as if he were intentionally avoiding the word death. The beginnings of an idea-a tiny, hopeful fire-started forming in my mind.
"C-Chiron," The centaur glanced back at him confused. "If the gods and Olympus and all that are real ...Yes, child? "Does that mean the Underworld is real, too?" Chiron's expression darkened.
"Yes, child." He paused, as if choosing his words care-fully. "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."
"W-What do you mean, 'until we know more'?" Chiron ignored him. "Come, Percy. Let's see the woods." As we got closer, I realized how huge the forest was. It took up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, you could imagine nobody had been in there since the Native Americans.
Chiron said, "The woods are stocked, if you care to try your luck, but go armed." The deformed boy gave him a puzzled look. "Stocked with what?" I asked. "Armed with what?" Chiron sighed "You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own sword and shield?"
"M-My own-?"No, Chiron said. "I don't suppose you do. I think a size five will do. I'll visit the armory later. "I wanted to ask what kind of summer camp had an armory, but there was too much else to think about, so the tour continued. We saw the archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables (which Chiron didn't seem to like very much), the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the arena where Chiron said they held sword and spear fights.
"S-Sword and s-spear fights?" The deformed teen asked confused. "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?" I asked. Chiron looked at me as if I'd gone a little weird. "We still have to eat, don't we?" I decided to drop the subject.
Finally, he showed me 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. And they were without doubt the most bizarre collection of buildings he'd ever seen.
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. Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory.
Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at.
They all faced a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops (which were more my speed). 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 was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick. 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?" The teen guessed. "Correct," Chiron said. "Their cabins look empty." He frowned. "Several of the cabins are. That's true. No one ever stays in one or two." Okay. So each cabin had a different god, like a mascot. Twelve cabins for the twelve Olympians.
But why? would some be empty? I stopped in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three. It wasn't high and mighty like cabin one, but long and low and solid. The outer walls were of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashell and coral, as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor. I peeked inside the open doorway and Chiron said, "Oh, I wouldn't do that!"
Before he could pull me back, I caught the salty scent of the interior, like the wind on the shore at Montauk. The interior walls glowed like abalone. There were six empty bunk beds with silk sheets turned down. But there was no sign anyone had ever slept there. The place felt so sad and lonely, I was glad when Chiron put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Come along, Percy."
Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers. Number five was bright red-a real nasty paint job, as if the color had been splashed on with buckets and fists. The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar's head hung over the doorway, and its eyes seemed to follow me.
Inside I could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, both girls and boys, arm wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared. The loudest was a girl maybe thirteen or fourteen almost my own age She wore a size XXXL CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirt under a camouflage jacket.
Her dark eyes lock on me and she gave me an evil sneer. She reminded me of the many bullies from my previous years of school though the camper girl was much bigger and tougher looking, than any bully I'd ever faced.
I kept walking, trying to stay clear of Chiron's hooves. "We haven't seen any other centaurs," I 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 me. "The Chiron from the stories? Trainer of Hercules and all that? Yes, Percy, I am." The deformed boy stared at him in disbelief.
"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." He thought about being a teacher for three thousand years. It wouldn't have made his Top Ten Things to Wish For list.
"Doesn't it ever get...b-boring?" No, no, he said. "Horribly depressing, at times, but never boring." The boy looked at him nervously "W-Why depressing?" Chiron seemed to turn hard of hearing again. "Oh, look," he said. "Annabeth is waiting for us."
The blond girl I'd met at the Big House was reading a book in front of the last cabin on the left, number eleven. When we reached her, she looked him over critically, like she was still thinking about how much he drooled.
He craned his neck trying to see what she was reading but couldn't make out the title. He thought his dyslexia was acting up. Then I realized the title wasn't even English. The letters looked Greek .I mean, literally Greek.
There were pictures of temples and statues and different kinds of columns, like those in an architecture book. "Annabeth," Chiron said, "I have masters' archery class at noon. Would you take Percy from here?"
"Yes, sir." She said glancing over at the strange boy . He looked away avoiding her gaze. "Cabin eleven," Chiron told me, 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 one of those doctor's symbols, a winged pole with two snakes wrapped around it. What did they call 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.
I stood in the doorway, looking at the kids. They weren't bowing anymore. They were staring at me, sizing me up. I knew this routine. I'd gone through it at enough schools. Some kids looked slightly surprised by his strange appearance.
"Well?" Annabeth prompted. "Go on." So naturally I tripped coming in the door and made a total fool of myself. There were some snickers from the campers, but none of them said anything, But a few still stared at me.
Annabeth announced, "Percy Jackson, meet cabin eleven. "Regular or undetermined?" somebody asked. I didn't know what to say, but Annabeth said, "Undetermined." Everybody groaned.
A guy who was a little older than the rest 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." The guy was about nineteen, and he looked pretty cool. He was tall and muscular, with short-cropped sandy hair and a friendly smile.
He wore an orange tank top, cut-offs, sandals, and a leather necklace with five different-colored clay beads. The only thing unsettling about his appearance was a thick white scar that ran from just beneath his right eye to his jaw, like an old knife slash.
"This is Luke," Annabeth said, and her voice sounded different somehow. I glanced over and could've sworn she was blushing. She saw me looking, and her expression hardened again. "He's your counselor for now."
"For now?" the deformed teen asked giving the blonde girl a puzzled stare. "You're undetermined," Luke explained patiently giving him a patient smile. "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."
I looked at the tiny section of floor they'd given me. I had nothing to put there to mark it as my own, no luggage, no clothes, no sleeping bag. Just the Minotaur's horn. I thought about setting that down, but then I remembered that Hermes was also the god of thieves.
I looked around at the campers' faces, some sullen and suspicious, some grinning stupidly, some eyeing me as if they were waiting for a chance to pick my pockets. Some however looked at me uncertainly as if they still weren't sure what to make of me.
"H-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. "Come on," Annabeth told me grabbing my arm. "I'll show you the volleyball court."
"I've already seen it." Come on. She grabbed my wrist and dragged me outside. I could hear the kids of cabin eleven laughing behind me. When we were a few feet away, Annabeth said, "Jackson, you have to do better than that."
The deformed teen frowned. "What?" She rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, "I can't believe I thought you were the one." He looked at her slightly irritated. "What's your problem?" He could feal himself becoming more and more frustrated.
"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?" He glared at now furious. "To get killed?!" "To fight the Minotaur! What do you think we train for?"
He sighed. "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 billion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So ..."
Annabeth sighed. "Monsters don't die, Percy. They can be killed. But they don't die." She said giving him a pitiful look. He looked away from her not wanting her pity. "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 reform."
His thoughts turned to Mrs. Dodds. "You mean if I killed one, accidentally, with a sword-" She nodded "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?" She smiled "You talk in your sleep." He looked away blushing as he changed the subject. "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. Right. Thunder rumbled over head "Look, is there anything we can say without it thundering?" I sounded whiny, even to myself, but right then I didn't care. "Why do I have to stay in cabin eleven, anyway? Why is everybody so crowded together? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there."
I 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." She stared at me, waiting for me to get it.
The boy glared at her. "My mom is Sally Jackson," I said. "She works at the candy store in Grand Central Station. At least...she used to." He looked at the ground tears starting to form in his eyes and he quickly wiped them away.
"I'm sorry about your mom, Percy. But that's not what I mean. I'm talking about your other parent. Your dad." The boy looked up at his eyes flashing with rage. "He's dead. I never knew him." He said growling.
Annabeth sighed. Clearly, she'd had this conversation before with other kids. "Your father's not dead, Percy." The deformed boy looked shocked now. "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." The boy glared at her bitterly. "You don't know anything about me!" He almost shouted. "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." Percy stared at her shocked-How-" But she wasn't finished. "Diagnosed with dyslexia. Probably ADHD, too...among other things, she said her eyes roaming over his deformities.
He looked at the ground embarrassed. "W-W-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 battle-field 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."
The boy looked at her uncertainly. "Y-Y-You sound like ... you went through the same thing?" She nodded absentmindedly "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."
"A-Ambrosia and...Nectar" Annabeth explained. "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."
The boy looked at her confused. A...half-blood. He was reeling with so many questions he didn't know where to start. What did she mean, half-blood? Half what? What was he? Who was he? Before he could ask her a husky voice yelled, "Well, well a newbie!"
He turned around to see The big girl from the ugly red cabin was sauntering toward them . She had three other girls behind her, all big and ugly and mean looking like her, all wearing camo jackets.
The girl sneered at him with disgust. And an ugly newbie no less, this will be fun! Annabeth glared at the girl annoyed. "Clarisse," Annabeth sighed. "Why don't you go polish your spear or something?"
"Sure, Miss Princess," the big girl said. "So I can run you through with-it Friday night." Erre es korakas! Annabeth said, which I somehow understood was Greek for 'Go to the crows!' though I had a feeling it was a worse curse than it sounded.
"You don't stand a chance." "We'll pulverize you," Clarisse said, but her eye twitched. Perhaps she wasn't sure she could follow through on the threat. She turned toward me. "Who's this ugly runt?"
"Percy Jackson," Annabeth said, "meet Clarisse, Daughter of Ares." Percy gulped trying to hide his unease as he stared the girl down. "L-Like ... the war god?" Clarisse sneered. "You got a problem with that?" Hmm...Freak?
"No," He said smirking at her "It explains the bad smell." Clarisse growled. "We got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy." Percy. "Whatever. Come on, I'll show you." She grabbed him by the arm "Clarisse-" Annabeth tried to say.
"Stay out of it, wise girl." Annabeth looked pained, but she did stay out of it, and I didn't really want her help. I was the new kid. I had to earn my own rep. even if I ended up getting beat up by I girl my own age I wasn't going to be a coward...Not anymore!
I tugged my arm free as I handed Annabeth my minotaur horn and got ready to fight, but before I knew it, Clarisse had me by the neck and was dragging me toward a cinder-block building that I knew immediately was the bathroom.
He struggled against her tight grip as he fought to break free, but she was a lot stronger than he'd realized. He'd been in plenty of fights before, but this girl Clarisse had hands like iron. She dragged him into the girls' bathroom.
There was a line of toilets on one side and a line of shower stalls down the other. It smelled just like any public bathroom, and I was thinking-as much as I could think with Clarisse ripping my hair out-that if this place belonged to the gods, they should've been able to afford classier bathrooms.
Clarisse's friends were all laughing at the deformed boy as he tried to find the strength he'd used to fight the Minotaur, but it just wasn't there. "Like he's 'Big Three' material," Clarisse said as she pushed me 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. Clarisse bent me over on my knees and started pushing my head toward the toilet bowl. It reeked like rusted pipes and, well, like what goes into toilets. I strained to keep my head up. I was looking at the scummy water, thinking, I will not go into that. I won't.
Then something happened. I felt a tug in the pit of my stomach. I heard the plumbing rumble, the pipes shudder. Clarisse's grip on my hair loosened. Water shot out of the toilet, making an arc straight over my head, and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the bathroom tiles with Clarisse screaming behind me.
I turned just as water blasted out of the toilet again, hit-ting 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, I felt the tug in my gut lessen, and the water shut off as quickly as it had started. 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 me in shock.
I looked down and realized I was sitting in the only dry spot in the whole room. There was a circle of dry floor around me. I didn't have one drop of water on my clothes. Nothing. I stood up, my legs shaky.
Annabeth stared at him in disbelief. "How did you ...I-I-I don't know." 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 me a look of absolute hatred. "You are dead, new boy. You are totally dead." I probably should have let it go, but I just smirked at her instead. "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. Annabeth stared at me. I couldn't tell whether she was just grossed out or angry at me for dousing her.
"What?" He said staring at her confused "What are you thinking?" She grinned "I'm thinking," she said, "that I want you on my team for capture the flag."
Word of the bathroom incident spread immediately. Wherever I went, campers pointed at me and murmured something about toilet water. Or maybe they were just staring at Annabeth, who was still pretty much dripping wet.
She showed me a few more places: the metal shop (where kids were forging their own swords), the arts and-crafts room (where satyrs were sandblasting a giant marble statue of a goat-man), and the climbing wall, which actually consisted of two facing walls that shook violently, dropped boulders, sprayed lava, and clashed together if you didn't get to the top fast enough.
Finally we returned to the canoeing lake, where the trail led back to the cabins. "I've got training to do," Annabeth said flatly. "Dinner's at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin to the mess hall."
He nodded. "A-A-Annabeth?" Hmm? I'm sorry about earlier with the toilets." That was...weird "Whatever." She said with a shrug. "I-It wasn't my fault." She looked at me skeptically, and I realized it was my fault. I'd made water shoot out of the bathroom fixtures. I didn't understand how. But the toilets had responded to me.
I had become one with the plumbing. "You need to talk to the Oracle," Annabeth said. "Who?" "Not who. What. The Oracle. I'll ask Chiron." I stared into the lake, wishing somebody would give me a straight answer for once.
However I wasn't expecting anybody to be looking back at me from the bottom, so my heart skipped a beat when I noticed two teenage girls sitting cross-legged at the base of the pier, about twenty feet below.
They wore blue jeans and shimmering green T-shirts, and their brown hair floated loose around their shoulders as minnows darted in and out. They smiled and waved as if I were a long-lost friend.
The deformed teen stared at the strange girls in shock and not knowing what else to do. He waved back. "Don't encourage them," Annabeth warned. Glaring at him "Naiads are terrible flirts."
"Naiads," He repeated, feeling completely overwhelmed. "T-That's it. I want to go home now!" He felt sick to his stomach. He felt light headed. Nothing made sense anymore. Annabeth sighed . "Don't you get it, Percy? You are home. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us."
"You mean, mentally disturbed kids?" He said annoyed. She sighed frustrated. "I mean not human. Not totally human, anyway. Half-human." His eyes widened in disbelief at what he was hearing.
"H-Half-human and h-half-what?" "I think you know." He looked away as he looked back at the water. As much as didn't want to admit it he knew she was right. But he was afraid to admit it. He felt a tingling in his limbs, a sensation he sometimes felt whenever his mom talked about his dad.
"God," he said shaking his head in disbelief. "H-Half-god." Annabeth nodded. "Your father isn't dead, Percy. He's one of the Olympians." He shook his head refusing to believe what he was hearing. "T-That's ... crazy!"
"Is it? What's the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they've changed their habits in the last few millennia?"
"But those are just-" He stopped himself from saying myths again. Then remembered Chiron's warning that in two thousand years, he might be considered a myth. "B-But if all the kids here are half-gods-"
"Demigods," Annabeth said. "That's the official term. Or half-bloods." He nodded still slightly uneasy. "T-T-Then who's your dad?" Her hands tightened around the pier railing. I got the feeling I'd just trespassed on a sensitive subject.
"My dad is a professor at West Point," she said. "I haven't seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history." "H-He's human?" She frowned "What? You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?"
He blushed slightly. S-Sorry. "W-W-Who's your mom, then?" "Cabin six." Meaning? Annabeth straightened. "Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle." Okay, I thought. Why not? "And my dad?" He said giving her a desperate look hoping for answers.
The blonde sighed. "Undetermined," Annabeth said, "like I told you before. Nobody knows." E-Except my mother. She knew. "Maybe not, Percy. Gods don't always reveal their identities." "M-My dad would have. He loved her."
Annabeth gave him a cautious look. She didn't want to burst his bubble, but she knew the gods better than him. "Maybe you're right. Maybe he'll send a sign. That's the only way to know for sure: your father has to send you a sign claiming you as his son. Sometimes it happens."
"Y-You mean sometimes it doesn't?" He said nervously. Annabeth ran her palm along the rail. "The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids, and they don't always...Well, sometimes they don't care about us, Percy. They ignore us."
He thought about some of the kids he'd seen in the Hermes cabin, teenagers who looked sullen and depressed, as if they were waiting for a call that would never come. He'd known kids like that at Yancy Academy, shuffled off to boarding school by rich parents who didn't have the time to deal with them.
But gods should behave better. "S-So I'm stuck here," he said. "That's it? For the rest of my life?" Annabeth shrugged. "It depends," Annabeth said. "Some campers only stay the summer. If you're a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you're probably not a real powerful force. The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world the rest of the year.
But for some of us, it's too dangerous to leave. We're year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they'll ignore us until we're old enough to cause trouble-about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they get killed off.
A few manage to survive in the outside world and become famous. Believe me if I told you the names, you'd know them. Some don't even realize they're demigods. But very, very few are like that."
"S-So monsters can't get in here?" He said glancing nervously at the woods where he was certain dozens of monsters waited. Annabeth shook her head. "Not unless they're intentionally stocked in the woods or specially summoned by somebody on the inside."
"W-Why would anybody want to summon a monster?" "Practice fights. Practical jokes. "He stared at her shocked "P-Practical jokes?" She sighed "The point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm."
"S-So ... you're a year-rounder?" Annabeth nodded. From under the collar of her T-shirt she pulled a leather necklace with five clay beads of different colors. It was just like Luke's, except Annabeth's also had a big gold ring strung on it, like a college ring.
"I've been here since I was seven," she said. "Every August, on the last day of summer session, you get a bead for surviving another year. I've been here longer than most of the counselors, and they're all in college."
"W-Why did you come so young?" She twisted the ring on her necklace. "None of your business." Oh...I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to-It fine she said cutting him off. He stood there for a minute in uncomfortable silence. "S-So ... I could just walk out of here right now if...If I wanted to?"
"It would be suicide, but you could, with Mr. D's or Chiron's permission. But they wouldn't give permission until the end of the summer session unless ...Unless?" He asked giving her a confused stare.
"You were granted a quest. But that hardly ever happens. The last time ..."Her voice trailed off. He could tell from her tone that the last time hadn't gone well. He quickly changed the subject "B-Back in the sick room," he said, "when you were feeding me that stuff-Ambrosia."
"Y-Yeah that. Y-You asked me something about the summer solstice." Annabeth's shoulders tensed. "So you do know something?" He shook his head "Well... no. Back at my old school, I overheard Grover and Chiron talking about it. Grover mentioned the summer solstice. He said something like we didn't have much time, because of the deadline. What did that mean?"
She clenched her fists. "I wish I knew. Chiron and the satyrs, they know, but they won't tell me. Something is wrong in Olympus, something pretty major. Last time I was there, everything seemed so normal."
The deformed teens eyes widened in amazement. "Y-You've been to Olympus?!" She nodded absentmindedly "Some of us year-rounders-Luke and Clarisse and I and a few others-we took a field trip during winter solstice. That's when the gods have their big annual council."
"But... how did you get there?" "The Long Island Railroad, of course. You get off at Penn Station. Empire State Building, special elevator to the six hundredth floor." She looked at him like she was sure he must know this already.
"You are a New Yorker, right?" O-Oh, sure." As far as I knew, there were only a hundred and two floors in the Empire State Building, but I decided not to point that out. She shrugged. "Right after we visited," Annabeth continued, "the weather got weird, as if the gods had started fighting.
A couple of times since, I've overheard satyrs talking. The best I can figure out is that something important was stolen. And if it isn't returned by summer solstice, there's going to be trouble. When you came, I was hoping ... I mean- Athena can get along with just about anybody, except for Ares. And of course she's got the rivalry with Poseidon. But, I mean, aside from that, I thought we could work together.
I thought you might know something." He shook his head. He wished he could help her, but he felt too hungry and tired and mentally overloaded to ask any more questions. "I've got to get a quest," Annabeth muttered to herself. "I'm not too young. If they would just tell me the problem ..."
He sniffed the air he could smell barbecue smoke coming from somewhere nearby. Annabeth must've heard his stomach growl. She smiled. Hungry. He nodded his face bright red with embarrassment. "Go on, I'll catch up with you later."
He was a bit uncomfortable leaving his new friend seeing as he didn't know anyone else here but left her on the pier as headed back to his cabin. Back at cabin eleven, everybody was talking and horsing around, waiting for dinner.
For the first time, he noticed that a lot of the campers had similar features: sharp noses, upturned eyebrows, mischievous smiles. They were the kind of kids that teachers would peg as troublemakers.
Thankfully, nobody paid much attention to me as I walked over to my spot on the floor and plopped down with my minotaur horn. The counselor, Luke, came over. He had the Hermes family resemblance, too. It was marred by that scar on his right cheek, but his smile was intact.
"Found you a sleeping bag," he said. "And here, I stole you some toiletries from the camp store." Percy couldn't tell if he was kidding about the stealing part, but decided not to ask. "T-T-Thanks."
"No prob." Luke sat next to me, pushed his back against the wall. "Tough first day?" Percy gave a timid nod. "I-I-I don't belong here," he said. "I-I-I don't even believe in gods." Luke shrugged his shoulders
"Yeah," he said. "That's how we all started. Once you start believing in them? It doesn't get any easier." The bitterness in his voice surprised him because Luke seemed like a pretty easygoing guy. He looked like he could handle just about anything.
"S-So your dad is Hermes?" He asked. He pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, and for a second I thought he was going to gut me, but he just scraped the mud off the sole of his sandal. "Yeah. Hermes." "The wing-footed messenger guy." "That's him. Messengers. Medicine. Travelers, merchants, thieves. Anybody who uses the roads. That's why you're here, enjoying cabin eleven's hospitality. Hermes isn't picky about who he sponsors." Percy figured Luke didn't mean to call him a nobody. He just had a lot on his mind.
"Y-You ever meet your dad?" he asked. "Once." The teen waited, thinking that if he wanted to tell him, he'd tell him. Apparently, he didn't. I wondered if the story had any-thing to do with how he got his scar.
Luke looked up and managed a smile. "Don't worry about it, Percy. The campers here, they're mostly good people. After all, we're extended family, right? We take care of each other." He seemed to understand how lost he felt, and Percy was grateful for that, because an older guy like him-even if he was a counselor-should've steered clear of an uncool middle-schooler like him
But Luke had welcomed him into the cabin. He'd even stolen him some toiletries, which was the nicest thing anybody had done for him all day. He decided to ask him his last big question, the one that had been bothering him all afternoon. "Clarisse, from Ares, was joking about me being 'Big Three' material. Then Annabeth ... twice, she said I might be 'the one.' She said I should talk to the Oracle. What was that all about?"
Luke folded his knife. "I hate prophecies." He muttered under his breath."W-What do you mean?" His face twitched around the scar. "Let's just say I messed things up for everybody else. The last two years, ever since my trip to the Garden of the Hesperides went sour, Chiron hasn't allowed any more quests.
Annabeth's been dying to get out into the world. She pestered Chiron so much he finally told her he already knew her fate. He'd had a prophecy from the Oracle. He wouldn't tell her the whole thing, but he said Annabeth wasn't destined to go on a quest yet. She had to wait until... somebody special came to the camp."
"S-S-Somebody special?" Luck smiled "Don't worry about it, kid," Luke said. "Annabeth wants to think every new camper who comes through here is the omen she's been waiting for. Now, come on, it's dinnertime."
The moment he said it, a horn blew in the distance. Somehow, Percy knew it was a conch shell, even though He'd never heard one before. Luke yelled, "Eleven, fall in!" The whole cabin, about twenty of us, filed into the commons yard.
They lined up in order of seniority, so of course he was dead last. Campers came from the other cabins, too, except for the three empty cabins at the end, and cabin eight, which had looked normal in the daytime, but was now starting to glow silver as the sun went down.
We marched up the hill to the mess hall pavilion. Satyrs joined us from the meadow. Naiads emerged from the canoeing lake. A few other girls came out of the woods- and when I say out of the woods, I mean straight out of the woods. I saw one girl, about nine or ten years old, melt from the side of a maple tree and come skipping up the hill.
In all, there were maybe a hundred campers, a few dozen satyrs, and a dozen assorted wood nymphs and naiads. At the pavilion, torches blazed around the marble columns. A central fire burned in a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub.
Each cabin had its own table, covered in white cloth trimmed in purple. Four of the tables were empty, but cabin eleven's was way overcrowded. He had to squeeze on to the edge of a bench. He saw Grover sitting at table twelve with Mr. D, a few satyrs, and a couple of plump blond boys who looked just like Mr. D.
Chiron stood to one side, the picnic table being way too small for a centaur. Annabeth sat at table six with a bunch of serious-looking athletic kids, all with her gray eyes and honey blonde hair.
Clarisse sat behind me at Ares's table. She'd apparently gotten over being hosed down because she was laughing and belching right alongside her friends. Finally, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent.
He raised a glass. "To the gods!" Everybody else raised their glasses. "To the gods!" Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and yes, barbecue! My glass was empty, but Luke said, "Speak to it. Whatever you want-non-alcoholic, of course."
Uh..."Cherry Coke. To his surprise The glass filled with sparkling caramel liquid. Then he had an idea. "B-Blue Cherry Coke." The soda turned a violent shade of cobalt. He took a cautious sip. Perfect. He drank a toast to his mother.
"She's not gone! He told himself self. Not permanently, anyway. She's in the Underworld. And if that's a real place, then someday..."Here you go, Percy," Luke said, handing him a platter of smoked brisket.
His mouth watered as he loaded his plate and was about to take a big bite when he noticed everybody getting up, carrying their plates toward the fire in the center of the pavilion. He wondered if they were going for dessert or something.
"Come on," Luke motioned for him to follow. As he got closer, he saw that everyone was taking a portion of their meal and dropping it into the fire, the ripest strawberry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest, most buttery roll.
Luke murmured in my ear, "Burnt offerings for the gods. They like the smell." "You're kidding." His look warned me not to take this lightly, but I couldn't help wondering why an immortal, all-powerful being would like the smell of burning food.
Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red grapes. "Hermes." He was next. He wished he knew what god's name to say. The deformed boy stared at the dancing flames.
Finally, he made a silent plea. "W-Whoever you are, tell me. Please." He scraped a big slice of brisket into the flames. When he caught a whiff of the smoke, he didn't gag. It smelled nothing like burning food. It smelled of hot chocolate and fresh-baked brownies, hamburgers on the grill and wildflowers, and a hundred other good things that shouldn't have gone well together but did. He could almost believe the gods could live off that smoke. When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals, Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention.
Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels."
A bunch of ugly cheering rose from the Ares table. "Personally," Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Peter Johnson."
Chiron murmured something. "Er, Percy Jackson," Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on." Everybody cheered. We all headed down toward the amphitheater, where Apollo's cabin led a singalong.
They sang camp songs about the gods and ate smores and joked around, and the funny thing was, He didn't feel that anyone was staring at him anymore. He felt like he was finally home. Later in the evening, when the sparks from the campfire were curling into a starry sky, the conch horn blew again, and everyone filed back to their cabins.
He didn't realize how exhausted he was until he collapsed on his borrowed sleeping bag. His fingers curled around the Minotaur's horn. He thought about his mother, but they were good thoughts: her smile, the bedtime stories she would read him when he was a kid, the way she would tell him not to let the bedbugs bite.
He chuckled borrowing deeper into his sleeping bag When he closed his eyes, he fell asleep instantly. That was his first day at Camp Half-Blood, done. He wished he'd known how briefly he would get to enjoy his new home.