Chapter Three
I arrive at the camp easily without seeing any monsters. I walk up to the entrance when a force pushes me back onto the ground. I try again, this time touching the force field with a finger. It ripples, proving to not be extremely stable. After finding a rock and chucking it at the force field for a time, it shatters and forms a hole large enough for me to to through. As soon as I enter, magic ripples and another weak layer forms.
I trudge through the dirt path and see several kids walking around doing their camp activities. Judging by the large groups they huddle in, I could tell who their godly parents were. That group of pretty girls wearing lots of makeup? Aphrodite. The people in bed and seem to be half-asleep? Hypnos. Lots of minor gods had their own cabins with many demigods flowing out of them.
"Hello, Kayla," a familiar voice says. It startles me, and I see a nymph exiting from the trees. "Péfko?" I ask. The nymph shakes her. "I'm Kymatismós, a naiad," she gestured to the lake behind her. "Péfko told me that you were coming here, so I'm here to help you. You crossed through the borders because you broke through it, but you still have to fit in with the demigods. Here, wear this shirt." Kymastimós handed me an orange shirt with a pegasus embroidered on it. In big bold letters, "Camp Half-Blood" was written in a Greek font.
I put the t-shirt over my tank top, and the naiad sent me off. I started strolling around and some girls from the Aphrodite group came over to me. "Hi hon, I'm Drew. I was wondering if you're new, since you look lost. Also, you look like a child of Aphrodite, wanna go check with Chiron?" an Asian girl asks.
I politely shake my head, and Drew rolls her eyes. "Alright, come meet me at Cabin 10 if you need help fitting in." She smirks and struts away from me. I notice her then flirting with some heavily muscled boys from the Ares cabin. She suddenly turns serious when one of the boys point at me. Drew says something, and then the boys turn to face me with scowls.
They come walking towards me, spears drawn and mouths foaming with spit. I resist the urge to puke as the horrible stench of sweat reached me smelling distance. "So, this is the new kid," an ugly brother says to the stinkier one.
"Well, she's not much to look at. Let's give her a makeover, Sherman." The smell of his foul breath makes me gag. The brothers snicker at me, and take turns breathing large gasps of air. Each brother competes to top the breath before with a longer, stinkier one. When the half-brothers decide it's enough, Sherman takes his spear and slowly scrapes it against my face. I draw my breath as a trickle of blood slides smoothly down my cheek. Oh, if I die again, what will the gods do?
"Mark, you can have the honor of tasting first blood," Sherman grunts. Mark smirks nastily and lets the blood roll onto his finger. He sticks the finger in his mouth and smiles wistfully like a child eating cotton candy.
"Tastes great," Mark comments. Sherman smiles greedily and he starts poking me with his spear again. Little dots of red pop up and paint my face like chicken pox. I remain silent, because this is how school taught us to defend bullies. Mark whines that Sherman isn't going deep enough to taste "the good stuff", so Sherman lifts his spear above his head. He starts to hurtle the spear at my arm, but then I throw up all over his sweaty armor. This enrages him, and Sherman stars stabbing at my hand as a deep, melodious voice pulls Sherman away from his rage quit.