Chapter 5
I will never understand demigods. I'd finally dragged myself out of the cabin and people kept congratulating me. And for what? What incredibly, heroic thing had I done? For yelling at my dad, of all things. I was starting to get seriously perturbed.
All satyr respect me, as they respect Dionysus. I'd been trying and failing, to keep campers away from me, satyrs assembled as body guards as I sulked. So not in the mood. When Percy came up to me and and started talking about how, "Dude it's so awesome that you stood up to your dad!" Well... I totally lost it.
"SHUT UP! I don't need ANYONE else telling me that it was awesome I pushed away my dad, who, despite prior belief, ACTUALLY CARES ABOUT ME!" My sword was drawn before I knew it. I just challenged master swordsman Perseus Jackson to a duel.
His reaction was remarkably quick, thing is, I had something he didn't, unfailing anger.
A lot of people swing blindly and wildly when they're angry. Not me. I hit with precision, and I still lost. He knocked away my sword and shoved me to the ground.
"Get a hold of yourself Pollux!" He warned.
"I'll make you go mad! You'll go insane!" I screamed, concentrating.
"NO!" Annabeth yelped, hugging him.
"Pollux, Pollux. You're upset, you need some time alone to think." A calming voice said. I think it was Piper. I am not a fan of Piper Mclean, and could see Jason watching wide eyed at my melt down.
I think it's only fair for me that the most calming place aside from the strawberry fields is Zeus's fist. It's a great place for reflection, and Zeus is my grandfather. Speaking of genealogy most people don't know that Castor and I's mom ran away when we were five. Dionysus HAD to take us to camp.
It- it was touch for him, juggling everything, and he was never the best dad. He'd taught us pinochle when we were six and we were often forced to play it with him and Chiron. Then there was Chiron. Poor Castor didn't get it though his head until he was eleven that the centaur was NOT TO BE RIDDEN.
How obvious, it was, that people knew us simply as Mr. D's kids. They didn't care about us. Few knew our names. Castor didn't get that either, he was optimistic, a glass half full guy. Even when mom left, even when Chiron wouldn't let Castor ride him, or when he lost a pinochle. Glass half full...
I was playing with my camp necklace, 17 years that someday I might be able to get back, thinking of these things, when I dropped it, impulsively reached for it, and fell off of Zeus's fist head first.
I write cliffies when I'm home sick.