pocket full of posies
❛ ii. godly families are messy ❜

━━━━━ OVER THE WEEKS, things had changed. And not in the friendly, making progress type of way. It was like Camp Half-Blood was becoming a shell of what it once was. It was like someone stormed past the magical borders and carved out the heart of Camp and ran off, a thief in the night.

Which is virtually what had happened.

On the surface, Camp Half-Blood didn't look all that different. The Big House was still there with its blue gabled roof and its wrap-around porch. The strawberry fields were still baking in the sun. The same white-columned Greek buildings were scattered around the valley—the amphitheater, the combat arena, and the dining pavilion overlooking Long Island Sound. And nestled between the woods and the creek were the same cabins—a crazy assortment of twelve buildings, each representing a different Olympian god.

But there was an air of danger now. Posie could just sense something was off, that something was wrong. And she wasn't the only one. Instead of playing volleyball in the sandpit, counselors and satyrs were stockpiling weapons in the tool shed. Dryads armed with bows and arrows talked nervously at the edge of the woods. The forest looked sickly, the grass in the meadow was pale yellow, and the fire marks on Half-Blood Hill stood out like ugly scars.

It had been horrible to watch the progression happen, especially when there was nothing Posie could do but watch.

Last summer, Apollo had told Posie that her ability to see beyond what others could was a gift—a gift of foresight that not many possessed. Back then, Posie wasn't so sure if her father was correct. Even now, she still wasn't sure. All she could do was watch horrible things happen, that heavy sense of déjà vu taunting her, as if she did know something. It nearly drove Posie mad to know she might have seen something in her dreams that could help, but she wouldn't know it until it was all over.

As she, Annabeth, Percy, and Tyson ( Wyatt departed from the group when he realized people were giving them looks ) made their way to the Big House, there was no summer greeting for old campers. Nobody stopped to talk. Nobody said, 'Welcome back'. Some did double takes when they saw Tyson, but most just walked grimly past and carried on with their duties—running messages, toting swords to sharpen on the grinding wheels. The Camp felt like a military school. And believe Posie, she had attended a couple before she had run away three years ago.

But none of that mattered to Tyson. He was absolutely fascinated by everything he saw. "Whasthat!" he gasped.

"The stables for pegasi," Percy said, frowning. "The winged horses."

"Whasthat!"

"Um ..." Percy blinked at the cinderblock building. Maybe he was getting flashbacks to last summer when Clarisse tried to shove his head in a toilet. "Those are the toilets."

"Whasthat!"

"The cabins for the campers. If they don't know who your Olympian parent is, they put you in the Hermes Cabin—that brown one over there—until you're determined. Then, once they know, they put you in your dad or mom's group."

The Cyclops looked at Percy in awe. "You ... have a cabin?"

"Number three." The son of Poseidon pointed to a low grey building made of sea stone.

"You live with friends in the cabin?"

"No. No, just me." Percy didn't go into much more detail than that. Posie figured it was a sore subject for the boy. He was the only one to stay in Cabin Three because his father wasn't supposed to have any children, and yet, here Percy was.

When they got to the Big House, they found Chiron in his apartment, listening to his favorite 1960s lounge music while he packed his saddlebags. Posie's heart lurched as she saw the sight. The centaur was practically another father to her.

As soon as the centaur came into sight, Tyson froze. "Pony!" he cried in total rapture.

Chiron turned, looking offended. "I beg your pardon?"

Annabeth ran up and hugged him. "Chiron, what's happening? You're not ... leaving?" Her voice was shaky. Chiron was like a second father to her, too.

Chiron ruffled her hair and gave her a kind smile. "Hello, child. And Percy, my goodness. You've grown over the year!"

Percy swallowed. "Posie said you were ... you were ..."

"Fired." Chiron's eyes glinted with dark humor. "Ah, well, someone had to take the blame. Lord Zeus was most upset. The tree he'd created from the spirit of his daughter, poisoned! Mr. D had to punish someone."

Posie crossed her arms, looking aside. "It's not fair. We already—"

But the centaur gave her a warning look, and she clamped her mouth shut. She may have seen Luke poisoning the tree, but that still wasn't enough to just go around saying it to everybody.

"This is crazy!" Annabeth protested. "Chiron, you couldn't have had anything to do with poisoning Thalia's tree!"

"Nevertheless," Chiron sighed, "some in Olympus do not trust me now, under the circumstances."

Posie frowned. She hadn't heard anything to do with the Olympians not trusting Chiron, not even her dreams had said anything about this. "What circumstances?" she asked.

Chiron's face darkened. He stuffed a Latin-English dictionary into his saddlebag while Frank Sinatra music oozed from his boom box.

Tyson was still staring at Chiron in amazement. He whimpered like he wanted to pat Chiron's flank but was afraid to come closer. "Pony?"

The teacher sniffed. "My dear young Cyclops! I am a centaur."

"Chiron," Percy said. "What about the tree? What happened?"

He shook his head sadly. "The poison used on Thalia's pine is something from the Underworld, Percy. Some venom even I have never seen. It must have come from a monster quite deep in the pits of Tartarus."

"Then we know who's responsible. Kro—"

"Do not invoke the Titan Lord's name, Percy. Especially not here, not now."

"But last summer he tried to cause a civil war in Olympus! This has to be his idea. He'd get Luke to do it, that asshole."

"Perhaps," Chiron said, glancing at Josephine, who shifted uncomfortably. "But I fear I am being held responsible because I did not prevent it and I cannot cure it. The tree has only a few weeks of life left unless ..."

"Unless what?" Annabeth asked.

"No," Chiron said. "A foolish thought. The whole valley is feeling the shock of the poison. The magical borders are deteriorating. The Camp itself is dying. Only one source of magic would be strong enough to reverse the poison, and it was lost centuries ago."

"What is it?" Percy asked. "We'll go find it!"

Chiron closed his saddlebag. He pressed the STOP button on his boom box. Then he turned and rested his hand on Percy's shoulder, looking the boy straight in the eyes. "Percy, you must promise me that you will not act rashly. I told your mother I did not want you to come here at all this summer. It's much too dangerous. But now that you are here, stay here. Train hard. Learn to fight. But do not leave."

"Why?" he immediately asked. "I want to do something! I can't just let the borders fail. The whole Camp will be—"

"Overrun by monsters," Posie spoke up, a shiver crawling up her spine. She had seen dreams like that before; horrible images as she watched bloodthirsty monsters ravage a Camp of sleeping campers. She didn't know if it was foretelling what would happen if Thalia's tree completely died, or if it was the past, the time before Thalia's tree.

Chiron watched the daughter of Apollo grimly. "Yes, I fear so. But you must not let yourself be baited into hasty action! This could be a trap of the Titan Lord. Remember last summer, Percy! He almost took your life."

Posie knew it was true, being reminded of the horror of the realization of Luke's true character. She remembered that heavy feeling of fear and guilt of not realizing who Luke was sooner. If she had, then Percy might've never been poisoned. It was hard not to think of the sight of his lifeless body ...

Luke Castellan was a monster, and Posie hated him. Kronos was just as horrible, and so much worse. Camp Half-Blood, her only home after running away from D.C., was falling apart, and it was all thanks to Luke and Kronos. All Posie wanted to do was to go and stop them, but she didn't know how.

Annabeth was trying hard not to cry. Chiron brushed a tear from her cheek. "Stay with Percy, child," he told her. "Keep him safe. The prophecy—remember it!"

"I—I will."

"Um ..." Percy shuffled on his feet. "Would this be the super-dangerous prophecy that has me in it, but the gods have forbidden you to tell me about?"

The centaur looked at Posie, ignoring Percy's question. "Anything else," he warned, and she understood what he was talking about; the dreams, the foretelling. "They are warnings. Remember them as best as you can."

The daughter of Apollo nodded, words caught in her throat. Now more than ever she was regretting not telling him about the green mist and glow and about Onesimus.

"Chiron ..." Annabeth said. "You told me the gods made you immortal only so long as you were needed to train heroes. If they dismiss you from Camp—"

"Swear you will do your best to keep Percy from danger," he insisted. "Swear upon the River Styx."

Annabeth stared for a moment. "I—I swear it upon the River Styx."

Thunder rumbled outside.

"Josephine," said the centaur, "I need you to, as well."

The daughter of Apollo blinked at him. She didn't even know what she was swearing to. She, of course, had heard whispers about the prophecy that made the Big Three swear to no longer have kids, but she had never heard the prophecy. Not even her dreams seemed capable to give her that information. How could she help keep Percy safe if she didn't even know what the prophecy foretold?

"But, Chiron, I don't—"

"Josephine, I need you to." The centaur looked at her hard.

The black-haired girl swallowed. "I—I swear. I swear upon the River Styx."

Thunder rumbled again. Posie had a bad feeling fate would keep her to that promise one way or another, despite the fact she didn't even know what she was exactly promising.

"Very well," Chiron said. The crease between his eyebrows faded, just a bit. But his shoulders were still tense. "Perhaps my name will be cleared and I shall return. Until then, I go to visit my wild kinsmen in the Everglades. It's possible they know of some cure for the poisoned tree that I have forgotten. In any event, I will stay in exile until this matter is resolved ... one way or another."

Posie's throat burned, and she rushed forward to hug the centaur tightly. Chiron patted her back awkwardly. "There, now, child. I must entrust your safety to Mr. D and the new activities director. We must hope ... well, perhaps they won't destroy the camp quite as quickly as I fear."

"Who is this Tantalus guy, anyway?" Percy demanded. "Where does he get off taking your job?"

A conch horn blew across the valley. Posie hadn't realized how late it was. It was time for the campers to assemble for dinner.

"Go," Chiron said. "You will meet him at the pavilion. I will contact your mother, Percy, and let her know you're safe. No doubt she'll be worried by now. Just remember my warning! You are in grave danger. Do not think for a moment that the Titan Lord has forgotten you!"

With that, he clopped out of the apartment and down the hall, Tyson calling after him, "Pony! Don't go!"

Tyson started bawling almost as bad as Annabeth. Posie dug her fingernails into her palms, doing her best to ignore that heavy feeling of dread settling in her stomach. Onesimus was whispering sympathetically in her mind, doing his best to give her things to look forward to.

You're not helping Onesimus, she told him.

At least I'm trying! he responded. Hey—think about it! At least you didn't tell Chiron about me or those powers.

But he may have answers, she protested.

But so do I, said Onesimus. And the time is coming closer for you to receive them.

You told me that last summer.

Ah, but didn't you receive an answer last summer? he countered.

Without thinking, she glanced down at the ring carved out of something that looked like black marble. In the setting sun, she could see the emerald green eyes of the snake glittering as it bit its own tail, creating an endless loop.

Posie knew—perhaps some weird gift of confusing foresight—that this summer would not be as peaceful as she'd hoped.

✿

The sun was setting behind the dining pavilion as campers came up from their cabins. The four stood in the shadow of a marble column and watched them file in. Annabeth was still pretty shaken up, but she promised she'd talk to the others later. Then she went off to join her siblings from the Athena Cabin—a dozen boys and girls, some of whom shared the same blond hair and startling grey eyes. Annabeth wasn't the oldest, but she'd been at Camp more summers than just about anybody. You could tell that by looking at her Camp necklace—one bead for every summer, and Annabeth had six. No one questioned her right to lead the line.

Posie squeezed Percy's arm once, and before she could head over to her siblings, he asked, "What'd Chiron make you swear on the River Styx about?"

She sighed. "Honestly, I don't know."

The son of Poseidon watched her for a moment, and then figured she was telling the truth. Posie was not a good liar.

"Hey, don't worry too much," she told him. "We'll figure it out."

She squeezed his arm again and then left Percy and Tyson for her siblings. She didn't have as many beads as Annabeth, only having three. And she didn't even have as many as Lee, who had five. Posie wasn't the one to lead the line for Cabin Seven, third in line behind Lee and Michael, who had five and four beads respectively.

Next came Clarisse, leading the Ares Cabin. She had one arm in a sling and a nasty-looking gash on her cheek, but otherwise, her encounter with the bronze bulls didn't seem to have phased her. Someone had taped a piece of paper to her back that said, YOU MOO, GIRL! But nobody in her cabin was bothering to tell her about it.

After the Ares kids came the Hephaestus Cabin—six guys led by Charles Beckendorf, a big fifteen-year-old African American kid. He had hands the size of catchers' mitts and a face that was hard and squinty from looking into a blacksmith's forge all day. He was nice enough once you got to know him, but no one ever called him Charlie or Chuck or Charles. Most just called him Beckendorf. 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. Whatever you wanted. Posie knew it to be true as the son of Hephaestus had created her two daggers, Anthos and Arsis. ( Percy had named them, don't ask. )

And next came Apollo Cabin—the six of them. Lee asked how Posie was after the bronze bulls, and she told him the rundown, leaving out of her part where she killed one with the green glow.

Michael grinned at her, patting her on the back. "Shame a Cyclops saved our asses, though."

Posie frowned at him, but before she could say anything, Austin and Kayla started asking questions about the Cyclops.

"Honestly, you guys," Will said nervously, "why are we being so casual about a Cyclops helping us? That's a Cyclops we're talking about."

"He's a baby," Posie said. "That's what Annabeth said, at least. And it took a liking to Percy."

Michael rolled his eyes. "All that boy does is bring trouble. I mean—"

"Michael." Lee gave him a warning look as they passed close by Percy, and the younger son of Apollo clamped his mouth shut.

The other cabins filed in: Demeter and Dionysus. Naiads came up from the canoe lake. Dryads melted out of the trees. From the meadow came a dozen satyrs, who reminded Posie of Grover. He was still gone, out in the wild, searching for Pan.

After the satyrs filed into dinner, the Hermes Cabin brought up the rear. Posie spotted Wyatt with a bandage across his face from the bronze bulls. They were always the biggest cabin. Last summer, it had been led by Luke, the guy who'd fought with Thalia and Annabeth on top of Half-Blood Hill. Now the Hermes Cabin was led by Travis and Connor Stoll. They weren't twins, but they looked so much alike that it didn't matter. Posie struggled to tell them apart when she first arrived, but now, it was much easier. They were both tall and skinny, with mops of brown hair that hung in their eyes. They wore orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts untucked over baggy shorts, and they had those elfish features all Hermes's kids had: upturned eyebrows, sarcastic smiles, a gleam in their eyes whenever they looked at you—like they were about to drop a firecracker down your shirt.

( Last summer, Percy had made a joke about their last name, Stoll, which was ironic considering their father was God of Thieves. He told Posie the two didn't seem to get the joke, but she had to break the news to Percy; "They did get it. They just didn't think it was funny." Percy flushed. "Oh. You didn't have to tell me that, Posie." )

As soon as the last campers had filed in, Percy led Tyson into the middle of the pavilion. Conversations faltered. Heads turned.

"Who invited that to dinner?" Michael muttered. Posie swiftly kicked him in the leg, making him grunt.

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

The son of Poseidon gritted his teeth and turned to the god. "Percy Jackson ... sir."

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

He was wearing a tacky leopard-patterned dress shirt and black pants. His narrow face and narrow mouth sneered at Percy. His purple eyes glinted in the brazier's fire as Percy returned his glare. Behind the god, a nervous-looking satyr was peeling the skins off grapes and handing them to Mr. D one at a time.

Mr. D's real name was Dionysus. The God of Wine. Zeus appointed him director of Camp Half-Blood to dry out for a hundred years—a punishment for chasing some off-limits wood nymph. But that punishment for the god quickly turned into a punishment for all campers, too.

Next to him, where Chiron usually sat ( or stood, in centaur form ), was someone Posie dreaded to see—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 grey hair, like his last haircut had been done with a weed whacker. He stared at Percy; his eyes made Posie nervous. He looked ... fractured. Angry and frustrated and hungry 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 Percy Jackson at great length.

"I am Tantalus," the prisoner said, smiling coldly. "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."

When Posie learned who was replacing Chiron, her stomach lurched. Out of all the Greek myths, Dionysus picked Tantalus. Tantalus was a wicked king who ruled Tantalis back in the old days. Zeus had once offered Tanalus a spot to eat with the Olympians, and Tanalus accepted, but when the meal was finished, he was caught trying to take ambrosia and nectar back to the mortals. He wanted to be famous; known as the mortal who would bring godly food down to the earth.

Well, Zeus was pissed at this, and was enraged Tantalus even thought of doing something like that. And to get back at the god for humiliating him, Tantalus—logically, of course—decided to cook his own son, Pelops, into a stew and feed it to the gods.

And it's hard to hide anything from the gods, so they eventually found out to truth, and were horrified, to say the least. At first, Tantalus was killed with Zeus's master bolt, but that wasn't enough in their opinion. The Lord of the Skys personally took Tantalus's spirit down to Hades in the Underworld, and the Lord of the Dead decided what his punishment would be.

Hades subjected Tantalus to eternal starvation and thirst; he was made to stand in a lake with a fruit tree hanging right above him. And no matter what he did, Tantalus would never be able to eat or drink again.

"Trouble?" the son of Poseidon demanded.

Dionysus snapped his fingers. A newspaper appeared on the table—the front page of today's New York Post. Posie couldn't read the headline from where she sat, but she could see Percy's yearbook picture on the front page. She had a bad feeling he fought some monsters again to make headlines all over again.

"Yes, trouble," Tantalus said with satisfaction. "You caused plenty of it last summer, I understand."

Posie gritted her teeth, biting her tongue. How was stopping the gods from starting a civil war considered trouble?

A satyr inched forward nervously and set a plate of barbecued meat 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."

The goblet filled itself with foamy soda. Tantalus stretched out his hand hesitantly, as if he were afraid the goblet was hot. He was waiting to see if his centuries-long curse was over.

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

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 towards the plate of meat. 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.

"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 blurted. "The one who stands in the lake with the fruit tree hanging over you, but you can't eat or drink."

The son of Poseidon always had a way to bring up people's worst moments.

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

"You must've done something really horrible when you were alive," Percy said, sounding mildly impressed. "What was it?"

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

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

"Your Camp has problems already ... sir."

"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 glared at the god and said, "Come on, Tyson."

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

"Him," Percy snapped. "His name is Tyson."

The new activities director raised an eyebrow.

"Tyson saved Camp," the son of Poseidon insisted. "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.

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

Tyson looked at Percy with fear in his one big eye, but Percy couldn't disobey direct orders.

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

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

Posie's heart lurched. Tyson seemed sweet, but she found it hard to ignore the fact he was a Cyclops. It was a demigod's instinct to fight Cyclops, just like it was a Cyclops's instinct to try and kill demigods. Posie couldn't help but worry that Tyson would go back to instincts.

Percy trudged over to the Poseidon table and slumped onto the bench with a guilty expression.

A wood nymph brought Posie a plate of grilled chicken, but she wasn't hungry. Camp Half-Blood was in serious trouble and Chiron was gone and had made her promise on the River Styx to keep Percy safe. The problem was, she had no idea what she was keeping Percy safe from.

She didn't feel very thankful, but she took her dinner, as was customary, up to the bronze brazier and scraped part of it into the flames.

"Apollo," she murmured, "accept my offering."

And give me guidance. Or any sort of help, she pleaded silently.

Despite having talked to him once last summer, not much had changed between her and Apollo. He still kept his distance, and that included when she made offerings to him. The smell of burning food didn't change, and Posie didn't expect anything else.

She sighed and trudged back off to her seat. As she was sitting down, Tantalus had one of the satyrs blow the conch horn to get all campers' 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 towards 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 close

"And here on my first day of authority," he continued, as if that hadn't just happened, "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 half-hearted 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," Lee called, rattling off the statistics he had read in some files from past Apollo campers before them.

"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 Posie 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 singlehandedly bested the bronze bulls!"

Clarisse blinked, then blushed. "Um, I didn't—"

"And modest, too." Tantalus grinned. "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 towards Tyson. Uneasy murmuring spread among the campers. A lot of sideways looks at the son of Poseidon. The boy sank low in his seat, his face burning red.

"Now, of course," Tantalus 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. Posie couldn't blame them. The Hermes Cabin was always full to bursting. 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 kennelled?"

Suddenly everybody gasped.

Tantalus scooted away from Tyson in surprise. All Posie could do was stare at the brilliant green light she had seen only once before—a dazzling holographic image that had appeared above Tyson's head.

Swirling over Tyson was a glowing green trident—the same symbol that had appeared above Percy the day Poseidon had claimed him as his son.

There was a moment of awed silence.

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

Everybody laughed except Posie, Annabeth, Percy, and a few of his other friends.

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.

But Posie understood. And there wasn't anything she could do about it. All she could do was sit and stew in anger as campers laughed around her, mocking Percy for having a monster as a brother. Godly families were messy, Posie knew that much.

✿  JULY 22ND, 2023  /  fuck tantalus ‼️ that's today's message

i don't have anything else to say besides that actually

anyways,, thoughts? opinions??