The next he saw the pair after the field trip, the boy looked more open than before. Archer supposed having come clean of his being a satyr was a weight off the boy's chest.
The satyr led them to the centaur's classroom where it closed the door.
"So?" Truth be told, Archer was still leery about meeting with Kheiron. Though the centaur was lauded and remembered as the trainer of heroes, how history was written was often different from reality.
Instead of being offended, the centaur chuckled as though this was just a normal occurrence for him. "Your situation is unique. I've never encountered demigods able to mask their scents as well as you both. This is, quite frankly, unprecedented."
"Ah, that's because-"
He put a hand on the girl's mouth before she could get more than a few words out. "Let him finish first, it's only polite." He had resigned himself to getting some of his secrets out in the open because of this girl but that didn't mean he couldn't stall it for a while.
The girl blinked and smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry."
Archer turned back to the centaur and raised a brow.
"Right, well, to continue - Since your situation is so unique, this brings up unique opportunities as well." He opened a drawer from his desk and brought out a pen and paper. "Normally I'd have met your parents and suggested that you attend Camp Half-Blood as soon as possible, to increase your chances of survival, but, with how you are, you should be able to last until at least the summer. That's when the camp officially opens for demigods to return for their training." He handed them the piece of paper. "The camp is protected by a barrier that keeps out all monsters. It's also protected by the Mist so normal people won't be able to see it."
Archer looked at the hastily drawn map and committed it to memory. He should be able to get there on his own easily. He handed the paper to the girl. "And what if we refuse to go to this camp of yours?"
The centaur suddenly looked disappointed but had a wry smile on his face. "We don't force children to go to camp, no. You're free to not go but your chances of survival would dwindle the older you get."
"The average lifespan of an untrained demigod is fifteen-years old." Archer looked at the satyr. It was the first time the boy-goat piped up in the entire conversation.
"Mr. Underwood is correct. The average lifespan of an untrained demigod is fifteen-years old. This is why we actively look for children like you."
"I'll take my chances. Thank you." He already decided he'd stay as far away from the supernatural, anyway. He stood and went home.
The weeks after carried on normally. He went to school, he attended classes, he barely listened, and he went home, rinse and repeat. The only real difference from before the trip to the museum was the addition of a tag-along and her friend.
"What you got for lunch?"
He bit back a sigh and continued eating as though he didn't hear the girl's question as she sat down opposite him. Her friend sat down beside her. Archer absently noted how uncomfortable the satyr still was, even after a few weeks of being forced to be in his presence by virtue of being the girl's friend.
The girl sighed and put down her fork. She had mac n' cheese for lunch. How...delightful. She sighed again, more forceful this time. When he continued ignoring her, she took an even deeper breath. "If I ask you what your problem is, will you stop that?" She let out an explosive breath, regained her bearings, and stared expectantly at him. He sighed this time. "Why do you insist on spending time with me when I make it clear I don't want to?"
She blinked and said, "Because you're the only one I can talk to about the stuff that I see. Other than Grover."
"Hey!"
Could this girl be any stupider? She'd had two run-ins with beasts and she still kept tempting fate. It's a miracle she hadn't died to one at this point. "I'd rather not talk about that, thank you very much. I'd like to live a normal life without all the supernatural nonsense." He closed his boxed lunch and stood. "And word of advice: don't look for them and just act like everything's normal."
The hand that pulled him back down was unexpected. "Please. I don't know who else to turn to. Mr. Brunner doesn't give me any answers and only says I should wait until summer. I tried to talk to my mother about it but she just smiled and didn't say anything."
"I try to teach her as much as I can but I don't know how to train her to protect herself," the satyr interjected. He adjusted his crutches beside his arm. "That's only something someone like her can teach her."
"That you saved me and haven't asked anything in return means you're not a bad guy. Please, I don't know who else to talk to. I just- I want someone I can talk to about- about being a demigod. I've even been trying to figure out who my father is an-"
That it was the satyr that clamped his hand on her shoulder to stop her before she said anything they would all regret was a welcome surprise. Archer nodded his thanks, he could allow the satyr that much at least. "Be careful with what you say out loud, Jackson. Words, especially names, have power, and unless you want to draw unnecessary attention, you won't use them."
"See! This is what I'm talking about! There's so much I don't know." She paused. "How come you know so much about this already?"
"That's something I'm curious about as well," the satyr added. "Did someone teach you about the whole, you know, thing?"
He ignored the boy-goat. He instead pinched the bridge of his nose. "If I agree to teach you, will you stop pestering me?"
She immediately brightened. "Reall-!"
He held up his hand. "On a few conditions." He waited until she settled down. "You will listen to what I say when I say it, you will not question me in the moment, and you will come alone, agreed?"
She blinked and nodded. "Yeah."
He finished his lunch before packing it away. "You will meet me by the bus stop nearest the front gate ten minutes after the last bell, got it?"
"Uh, ah! Yeah! Yeah, I'll see you then."
He shook his head. What headache was he getting himself into?
