Act two : Chapter two!

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Caught up in the chaos of setting his school on fire and battling flaming bulls, Percy hadn't had a moment to really notice Adira—until now. He allowed his gaze to linger. The first thing he noticed was her hair. It was darker and longer now than he remembered, and for some reason, it seemed to suit her even more now. He was used to seeing it tied back in her signature braids, but today, her long, loose curls spilled down her back. It was as if the sunlight had woven itself into those dark strands, casting a faint shimmer that made it almost impossible to look away.

She hadn't grown much over the past few months, at least not compared to him, and he couldn't help but notice how he now stood a bit taller. One thing that captivated him all over again were her eyes. Dark, steady, with those flecks of gold that glinted in the light.

He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to ask her how she was doing, how her trips to New York had been, and whether she'd seen anything interesting while she was there. Most importantly he wanted to tell her about his dreams about Grover.

But now it was time for dinner.

⚓࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ🧭

The sun was slowly setting behind the dining pavilion as the campers came up from their cabins. Percy, Adira, Annabeth and Tyson stood in the shadow of a marble column and watched them file in.

The Athena cabin arrived next, and Annabeth, still looking pretty shaken, hesitated before joining her siblings. Adira leaned in, "We" and gestured between the two of them, "definitely need to catch up later."

Annabeth stifled a giggle, her eyes flicking toward Percy. "Yeah, I saw some... interesting things today," she said, giving him a knowing look.

"Oh, really?" Adira raised an eyebrow, curiosity lighting up her face.

Percy immediately cleared his throat, heat creeping up his neck. "Not so interesting if you ask me," he said quickly, hoping to divert the topic before Annabeth could say anything about the photo in his notebook. That was something Adira didn't need to know about.

Adira gave Percy a skeptical glance, "Well, I'm not asking you," she said, before smiling at Annabeth. "Catch you later." The blonde girl joined her siblings.

Then Clarisse came, leading the Ares cabin. One arm in a sling and a nasty-looking gash on her cheek, while Malachi who followed her seemed to have no injuries.

Percy couldn't quite put his finger on it, but every time Malachi entered the scene or opened his mouth, a familiar irritation bubbled up inside him. There was something about the guy—maybe it was the way he seemed to hover around Adira, always trying to engage her in conversation. The more Malachi chatted her up, the more Percy felt that knot of annoyance tighten in his chest, as if he had a sudden urge to throw a punch.

"Do you think we should tell her?" Adira whispered to Percy, pulling him away from his thoughts, her voice low as she gestured toward Clarisse's back. A poorly taped piece of paper fluttered there, scrawled with the words YOU MOO, GIRL! In obnoxious block letters.

Percy glanced over, then snorted. "Nah. She'd probably yell at us anyway."

After the Ares kids came the Hephaestus cabin. Six guys led by Charles Beckendorf, a boy Adira didn't really talk to, but rumor was he could make anything. Give him a chunk of metal and he could create a razor-sharp sword or a robotic warrior or a singing birdbath for your grandmother's garden.

The other cabins filed in: Demeter, Apollo, Aphrodite, Dionysus. Naiads came up from the canoe lake. Dryads melted out of the trees while a dozen satyrs came from the meadow.

After the satyrs filed in to dinner, the Hermes cabin brought up the rear.

"That's my cue." She turned to Percy, ready to join the Hermes table. But before she could take a step, Percy's hand shot out, gently wrapping around her wrist. The contact was brief, but enough to send a jolt of surprise through her. She paused, her eyes meeting his.

"Uh, I need to tell you something," he said, his voice softer now, more serious. "Can we talk sometime in like, the next few days?"

Adira blinked, her curiosity piqued. His grip loosened, but his fingers lingered on her skin just a moment longer than necessary. She tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing as she studied him, trying to read what was behind those sea-green eyes.

"Uh, yeah... but it better not be something stupid, Anchorhead," she replied, half-teasing, squinting at him while wondering what he could possibly want to talk about with her.

She joined her cabin. They were always the biggest and last summer Luke and her were cabin counselors. But now that he's gone, she was leading cabin eleven alone, well officially, but Travis and Connor were like co-counselors.

As soon as the last campers had filed in, Percy led Tyson into the middle of the pavilion. Conversations died down and heads turned. "Who invited that?" somebody at the Apollo table murmured.

Adira shot the Apollo table a glare. She wasn't the biggest fan of having a Cyclops here, but she always reminded herself that Tyson was harmless, he was still young.

From the head table a familiar voice drawled, "Well, well, if it isn't Peter Johnson. My millennium is complete."

Percy gritted his teeth "Percy Jackson ... sir."

Mr. D sipped his Diet Coke. "Yes. Well, as you young people say these days: Whatever."

He was wearing his usual leopard-pattern Hawaiian shirt, walking shorts, and tennis shoes with black socks. With his pudgy belly and his blotchy red face, he looked like a Las Vegas tourist who'd stayed up too late in the casinos. Behind him, a nervous-looking satyr was peeling the skins off grapes and handing them to Mr. D one at a time.

Next to him, where Chiron usually sat (or stood, in centaur form), was a pale, horribly thin man in a threadbare orange prisoner's jumpsuit. The number over his pocket read 0001. He had blue shadows under his eyes, dirty fingernails, and badly cut gray hair, like his last haircut had been done with a weed whacker.

He glared at Percy, a look that sent shivers down his spine. He looked ... fractured. Angry and frustrated and hungry (lol) all at the same time.

"This boy," Dionysus told him, "you need to watch. Poseidon's child, you know."

"Ah!" the prisoner said. "That one." His tone made it obvious that he and Dionysus had already discussed him at length.

"I am Tantalus," the prisoner declared, his cold smile chilling the surrounding air. "On special assignment here until, well, until my Lord Dionysus decides otherwise. And you, Perseus Jackson, I do expect you to refrain from causing any more trouble."

"Trouble?" Percy demanded.

Adira felt her irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. Everything about Tantalus rubbed her the wrong way—his arrogance, his condescending tone, the way he dismissed the campers like they were nothing. It took everything in her not to jump in and punch the guy.

Dionysus snapped his fingers. A newspaper appeared, the front page of the days' New York Post. There was Percy's yearbook picture from Meriwether Prep.

"Ah, yes, trouble," Tantalus said, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "You caused plenty of it last summer, I understand.""

Percy didn't say anything and with that look on his face, anyone could figure it was because he was too mad to even speak. But seriously, who did Tadaeus or Tantalus think he was? Blaming a child that the gods had almost gotten into a civil war. Bratty.

A satyr inched forward nervously and set a plate of barbecue in front of Tantalus. The new activities director licked his lips. He looked at his empty goblet and said, "Root beer. Barq's special stock. 1967."

Oh, this was going to be fun.

With a flourish, the glass filled itself, but Tantalus hesitated, his hand hovering above it as if afraid to touch something too hot to handle.

"Go on, then, old fellow," Dionysus said, a strange sparkle in his eyes. "Perhaps now it will work."

Adira snickered, "Yeah, sure. You'd have to be an idiot to believe that. Oh, wait..." she added, her voice dripping with sarcasm, just loud enough for Tantalus to hear.

The response was instantaneous. Tantalus's face flushed with anger, and he bellowed, "Shut up, girl!"

Tantalus grabbed for the glass, but it scooted away before he could touch it. A few drops of root beer spilled, and Tantalus tried to dab them up with his fingers, but the drops rolled away like quicksilver before he could touch them. He growled and turned toward the plate of barbecue. He picked up a fork and tried to stab a piece of brisket, but the plate skittered down the table and flew off the end, straight into the coals of the brazier.

"Blast!" Tantalus muttered.

Adira raised an eyebrow, unfazed and unsurprised. People like him made her feel so smart.

"Ah, well," Dionysus said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Perhaps a few more days. Believe me, old chap, working at this camp will be torture enough. I'm sure your old curse will fade eventually."

"Eventually," muttered Tantalus, staring at Dionysus's Diet Coke. "Do you have any idea how dry one's throat gets after three thousand years?"

"You're that spirit from the Fields of Punishment," Percy stated. "The one who stands in the lake with the fruit tree hanging over you, but you can't eat or drink."

Tantalus sneered at him. "A real scholar, aren't you, boy?"

"You must've done something really horrible when you were alive," Percy whistled, kind of amazed. "What was it?"

Tantalus's eyes narrowed. Behind him, the satyrs were shaking their heads vigorously, trying to warn him.

"I'll be watching you, Percy Jackson," Tantalus said. "I don't want any problems at my camp."

"Your camp has problems already ... sir." Percy added that 'sir' with resentment.

"Oh, go sit down, Johnson," Dionysus sighed. "I believe that table over there is yours-the one where no one else ever wants to sit."

Percy's cheeks flushed crimson, Adira hoped he knew better than to talk back.

Dionysus was an overgrown brat, but he was an immortal, super powerful overgrown brat. No, seriously. He and Tantalus are taking brat summer to a whole other level.

Percy tried to play his anger off, he said, "Come on, Tyson."

"Oh, no," Tantalus said. "The monster stays here. We must decide what to do with it."

"Him," Percy snapped, his voice tense. "His name is Tyson."

The new activities director raised an eyebrow.

"Tyson saved the camp," Percy insisted, his voice rising. "He pounded those bronze bulls. Otherwise, they would've burned down this whole place."

"Yes," Tantalus sighed, "and what a pity that would've been." Dionysus snickered.

She wanted nothing more than to leap across the table and punch Tantalus right in his arrogant face, but Connor placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent reminder that getting involved with Tantalus would only lead to trouble.

"Leave us," Tantalus ordered, "while we decide this creature's fate."

Tyson looked at Percy with fear in his one big eye, but Percy knew he couldn't disobey a direct order from the camp directors. Not openly, anyway.

"I'll be right over here, big guy," the boy promised. "Don't worry. We'll find you a good place to sleep tonight."

Tyson nodded. "I believe you. You are my friend."

Percy trudged over to the Poseidon table and slumped onto the bench.

One of the wood nymphs gave Adira a plate of food, an Olympian olive-and-pepperoni pizza. Despite the delicious sight before her, Adira found that her stomach twisted uncomfortably; even after all that had happened that day, she just wasn't hungry.

As the Hermes table was allowed to approach the bronze brazier second, she took her plate and walked over. She scraped part of her food into the flames and was startled when someone suddenly spoke up next to her.

"Please promise me that if Tyson gets put into cabin eleven, they won't give him a hard time?"

Adira flinched at the sound of Percy's voice, her heart skipping a beat. She turned to face him, "Jeez, you do know that we go up here in a specific order?" She glanced back at Tantalus, who was currently preoccupied with trying to snag some food while Mr. D appeared to be dozing off, a half-empty goblet drooping in his grasp.

"Look," Percy pressed, his expression earnest, "I know you're not his biggest fan, but he can't really defend himself, verbally."

Adira paused, before she answered, "Yes, I promise. But don't get your hopes up. Maybe he won't even stay here."

"Yeah, I know." Percy said.

"Okay, now go before Tantalus sees you," Adira urged and lightly pushed him away.

"Aw, are you looking out for me?" he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.

She shot him an incredulous look, irritation flaring within her. "If he sees you here talking to me, we're both going to get into trouble. The last time I got on his bad side, I nearly punched him and ended up with a week of extra chores. So no, I'm looking out for myself."

"Okay, well, keep telling yourself that. But deep down, you're a softie, you know."

"Go. away."

With one last grin, Percy stepped back, hands up in mock surrender.

Everyone was seated at their tables but after a while, Tantalus had one of the satyrs blow the conch horn to get everyone's attention for announcements.

"Yes, well," Tantalus said, once the talking had died down. "Another fine meal! Or so I am told." As he spoke, he inched his hand toward his refilled dinner plate, as if maybe the food wouldn't notice what he was doing, but it did. It shot away down the table as soon as he got within six inches.

"And here on my first day of authority," he continued, "I'd like to say what a pleasant form of punishment it is to be here. Over the course of the summer, I hope to torture, er, interact with each and every one of you children. You all look good enough to eat."

Dionysus clapped politely, leading to some halfhearted applause from the satyrs. Tyson was still standing at the head table, looking uncomfortable, but every time he tried to scoot out of the limelight, Tantalus pulled him back.

"And now some changes!" Tantalus gave the campers a crooked smile. "We are reinstituting the chariot races!"

Murmuring broke out at all the tables-excitement, fear, disbelief.

"Now I know," Tantalus continued, raising his voice, "that these races were discontinued some years ago due to, ah, technical problems."

"Three deaths and twenty-six mutilations," someone at the Apollo table called.

"Yes, yes!" Tantalus said. "But I know that you will all join me in welcoming the return of this camp tradition. Golden laurels will go to the winning charioteers each month. Teams may register in the morning! The first race will be held in three days time. We will release you from most of your regular activities to prepare your chariots and choose your horses. Oh, and did I mention, the victorious team's cabin will have no chores for the month in which they win?"

An explosion of excited conversation-no KP for a whole month? No stable cleaning? Was he serious?

Then the last person Adira expected to object did so.

"But, sir!" Clarisse said. She looked nervous, but she stood up to speak from the Ares table. Some of the campers snickered when they saw the YOU MOO, GIRL! sign on her back. "What about patrol duty? I mean, if we drop everything to ready our chariots-"

"Ah, the hero of the day," Tantalus exclaimed. "Brave Clarisse, who single-handedly bested the bronze bulls!"

Uhm, hello? Was Adira invisible to him?

Adira exchanged a look with Malachi, who had also been there to fight the creatures.

Clarisse blinked, then blushed. "Um, I wasn't the only one-"

"And modest, too," Tantalus interrupted, his grin widening as he turned to Adira, flashing her a sarcastic smile that dripped with condescension. "Not to worry, my dear! This is a summer camp. We are here to enjoy ourselves, yes?"

"But the tree-"

"And now," Tantalus said, as several of Clarisse's cabin mates pulled her back into her seat, "before we proceed to the campfire and sing-along, one slight housekeeping issue. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase have seen fit, for some reason, to bring this here." Tantalus waved a hand toward Tyson.

Uneasy murmuring spread among the campers. "Now, of course," he said, "Cyclopes have a reputation for being bloodthirsty monsters with a very small brain capacity. Under normal circumstances, I would release this beast into the woods and have you hunt it down with torches and pointed sticks. But who knows? Perhaps this Cyclops is not as horrible as most of its brethren. Until it proves worthy of destruction, we need a place to keep it! I've thought about the stables, but that will make the horses nervous. Hermes's cabin, possibly?"

Silence at the Hermes table. Travis and Connor Stoll developed a sudden interest in the tablecloth. Adira had her arms crossed over her chest, ready to snarl at him at any second. She could practically feel the heat of her anger simmering beneath the surface. Tantalus knew that the Hermes cabin was full already. There was no way they could take in a six-foot-three Cyclops.

"Come now," Tantalus chided. "The monster may be able to do some menial chores. Any suggestions as to where such a beast should be kenneled?"

Suddenly everybody gasped.

Tantalus scooted away from Tyson in surprise, his bravado faltering for the first time since he had arrived.

Adira's eyes widened as she stared at the brilliant green light that burst forth, illuminating the darkening pavilion with a dazzling holographic image. It shimmered like a living jewel, casting intricate patterns across the faces of the campers. But it made sense. Cyclopes were children of nature spirits and gods...well, one god in particular...

Above Tyson's head, a radiant emblem materialized, a stunning representation of a shield adorned with the symbol of the sea—Poseidon's trident—flanked by swirling waves and bursts of lightning.

Being claimed was a rare event. Some campers waited in vain for it their whole lives. Last summer everyone had knelt before Percy, but now they followed Tantalus's lead. He roared with laughter, "Well! I think we know where to put the beast now. By the gods, I can see the family resemblance!"

Everyone burst into laughter, their voices echoing around the dining pavilion, except for Adira, Annabeth, and a handful of other campers who exchanged glances filled with annoyance.

Adira's eyes narrowed as she noticed Connor and Travis snickering next to her, and she slapped the back of their heads hard enough to make them flinch. "Don't be assholes," she snapped, her tone sharp and unforgiving.

Tyson didn't seem to notice. He was too mystified, trying to swat the glowing trident that was now fading over his head. He was too innocent to understand how much they were making fun of him, how cruel people were.

It looked like Percy got himself a new family member.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 !! author's note!

Omg I apologize that I haven't updated in so long. I've been busy w school and I had writers block lol, but I'm back now <3

This chapter is boring and literally nothing happened. A few Perdira scenes and that's it, let's call it a filler chapter! I'm excited for the next one because it's the chariot races, yayay!

I hate Tantalus and I hate every single camper that laughed at Tyson.

Thank you guys so much for reading, don't forget to vote <3

Kisses, Keke 💋