pocket full of posies
❛ i. the minotaur slayer ❜

━━━━━ "UM ... ANNABETH?"

               The daughter of Athena threw her a nasty look. "What, Posie?"

               "You're gonna kill him."

               Annabeth rolled her eyes and blew a couple of blonde braids out of her way. "If you think that I'm gonna kill him, why don't you do it?"

               "Oh, no." Josephine shook her head adamantly. "I would definitely kill him."

               Annabeth stared at her for a moment. "Posie—I know you're not a great healer and all, but feeding him ambrosia isn't gonna kill him."

               Still, Josephine shook her head. "I would manage somehow."

               Annabeth didn't argue after that. Though, she looked like she wanted to.

               Josephine supposed she didn't have to spend any time in the infirmary with Annabeth. But Josephine was intrigued but what had been dragged ( literally ) onto campgrounds the night before. She had heard it all from Lee and Michael, both telling her how they were going to have to feed ambrosia to the boy who had defeated the Minotaur. She heard it all over camp. This scrawny boy defeated the Minotaur. Josephine wanted to see for herself exactly who had managed such a feat.

               She had heard the boy, Percy Jackson, being called scrawny, but she hadn't expected it to be so ... accurate. Even hours later after the pouring rain had passed, his hair was still damp. He still had mud streaking his clothes and face. Josephine could see cuts and blood staining his pale face, and his eyebrows were pinched together in his sleep. She figured he was having a bad dream—typical for half-bloods.

               The odd thing was, Josephine had seen him before. Not in person, but in dreams. And no, not in a He's my dream man ( she figured it would be more of a dream boy ), but had truly seen him in dreams where the end of the world was coming. Fires; bloodbaths; green eyes; yellow eyes; slowing of time; a golden knife. All things Josephine didn't understand, but all things that scared her.

               She and Annabeth jumped as the boy croaked, "W-what?"

               Annabeth quickly recovered from her shock, asking, "What's going to happen at the summer solstice?"

               "Annabeth!" Josephine hissed, trying to pull the girl back. "He won't know."

               "You don't know that!" Annabeth turned back to Percy. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

               "I'm sorry," the boy mumbled, "I don't ..."

               Someone knocked on the door to the infirmary, quickly, Annabeth shoved a spoonful of ambrosia in Percy's mouth. Just as he finished that bite, he fell asleep. Lee Fletcher, Josephine's older brother, walked inside. He smiled at her and Annabeth.

               "Archery practice, Posie," he told her. Lee looked at Annabeth. "Posie's okay to leave, right?"

               Annabeth looked at Percy sourly, glaring down at the container of ambrosia in her hands. "Sure. Josephine's fine to leave."

               Lee slung his arm over Josephine's shoulder, leading her out of the infirmary. "What d'you reckon Michael's already at practice?" he asked her with a grin.

               Josephine smiled back. "You know he's waiting with his hands on his hips." She laughed lightly. "He's like a disappointed mom!"

               "He's about as annoying as one." Lee nodded. He glanced back at the infirmary. "Did the boy say anything?"

               Josephine rolled her eyes slightly. "Not you too! You don't really believe those rumors do you? About him being the one?"

               It might've been something she believed, as well.

               "I mean ..." Lee trailed off, "weird things are happening, Posie. It's possible."

               Josephine didn't respond after that. She wasn't sure what to say. Tell Lee about her dreams? Tell her brother that she thinks she's cursed with the gift of foresight?

               There was a time when she wished to have something connecting her to her father. Some small connection to make her feel like she was the same as everyone else. Something to make her feel like she wasn't some mistake Apollo didn't want to think about. Now, she was realizing just how wrong she had been to wish for such a thing.

✿

"Chiron," she protested, "that doesn't make sense!"

               The centaur gave her a warning look. "You and Annabeth have been elected to help Mr. Jackson settle into Camp."

               Josephine tried to give Annabeth a What the hell? look, but the daughter of Athena just shrugged and crossed her arms.

               Josephine had been summoned to the Big House out of the blue, being informed that she would have to help Annabeth Chase give the customary introduction of Camp Half-Blood to Percy Jackson. But it didn't make sense to her. She hadn't helped while he was in the infirmary—for Percy's own benefit, of course. She was a horrible healer, after all.

               Josephine frowned and looked at the Long Island Sound sprawling before her. She crossed her arms and leaned against the porch railing of the Big House. "This isn't fair," she muttered.

               Annabeth nudged her. "Better than me having to do it all by myself."

               "You did this, didn't you?" Josephine hissed. "Why?"

               The daughter of Athena shrugged. "I told Chiron you helped in the infirmary."

               "But I didn't!"

               Annabeth smiled at her. "Better than picking strawberries right now, isn't it?"

               Josephine rolled her eyes. The morning chore for Cabin Seven that day was picking strawberries from the patches. In all honesty, she would've preferred to have done that.

               She looked toward the rest of Camp Half-Blood before her. They were on the north shore of Long Island, with the valley camp built on marching all the way up to Long Island Sound, which glittered for about a mile in the distance. The landscape was dotted with buildings that were built to replicate ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—but instead of having that worn down look over in Greece, all of the buildings here were pristine, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen campers and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange Camp T-shirts were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and some flew overhead with pegasi.

               At the card table on the porch, Chiron and Mr. D sat on opposite sides, in the middle of a game of pinochle.

               Mr. D ( short of Dionysus ) had light stubble on his chin. Deep-set in his narrow face, purple eyes glinted in the sunlight. His black hair curled around his face as he frowned down at his cards. He always tried to pretend he was the better player between him and Chiron, but he definitely wasn't.

               Chiron smiled pleasantly down at his cards. He currently sat in a motorized wheelchair, hiding his lower horse half. He had thinning brown hair and a scruffy beard. And he had on his favorite coffee-scented, frayed tweed jacket.

               "Mr. Brunner!" a voice cried out, breaking the silence.

               Josephine turned to look for the source. She found Percy Jackson hobbling his way toward them, Grover ( the satyr sent to the boy's school to bring him to Camp ) trailing behind. Percy still looked sickly, but not nearly as bad as before.

               Chiron smiled at the boy. His eyes were mischievous as they were framed by smile wrinkles.

               "Ah, good, Percy," he said. "Now we have four for pinochle."

               He offered Percy a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at him with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now don't expect me to be glad to see you."

               "Uh, thanks." Percy scooted his chair away from the god.

               "Annabeth, Josephine?" Chiron called to them.

               The two stepped forward and Chiron introduced them. "These young ladies nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, Josephine, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in Cabin Eleven for now."

               Josephine tried not to grimace. She really didn't want to spend any time with Percy if possible. Her dreams flashed in the back of her mind every time she saw him.

               Annabeth said, "Sure, Chiron."

               The daughter of Athena was eyeing the black-and-white horn in Percy's hand. The Minotaur horn, Josephine realized with a shiver. It had a jagged base and a bloody tip.

               Annabeth looked Percy in the eye, opening her mouth to say; "You drool when you sleep."

               Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blonde braids flying behind her. Josephine's eyes widened as Annabeth ran off. Percy had gone redder than anyone she had ever seen before.

               "It's nice to meet you," Josephine promised quickly. "Um, sorry, Percy!"

               She waved hurriedly, running after the daughter of Athena. She ran across the lawn, her feet keeping in time with Annabeth's.

               "Annabeth!" she yelled angrily as they ran past the camp forges and the armory. She could the twelve cabins coming closer, all lined up in the U shape.

               The twelve cabins, for the twelve Olympians, were nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five on either side. For first-time viewers, they definitely had to be the most bizarre collection of buildings.

               The only thing they had in common was the fact that a bronze number was nailed above the door on each ( with odds on the left, those were for the gods, and evens on the left, for the goddesses ). Number nine—the cabin for Hephaestus—had smokestacks like a tiny factory. Number four, the one for Demeter, had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Cabin Seven, Josephine's cabin, seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all faced a common area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops.

               In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined firepit. A hearth modeled after Hestia's hearth over on Olympus, it was in honor of her. Despite the warm afternoon, the hearth still smoldered.

               The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin One was the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmered like a holograph, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them. Cabin Two was more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peacocks.

               Cabins for Zeus and Hera.

               And then there was Cabin Three, the cabin for Poseidon. It was long and low and solid. The outer walls were of rough grey stone studded with pieces of seashell and coral, as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor. Number five, Ares Cabin, was bright red—a real nasty paint job, as if the color had been splashed on with buckets and fists. The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar's head hung over the doorway.

               Josephine stopped at the door of Cabin Eleven, Hermes Cabin, placing her hands on her hips. Annabeth had walked inside, talking to one of the Stoll brothers about a sleeping bag. No sign of Luke, Josephine noticed. Odd.

               Cabin Eleven was the most cabin-esque of all the cabins. It had peeling brown paint, and some of the wood boards rotting from age. Over the door, a caduceus was nailed to the wall. A golden 11 was crooked above the caduceus.

               "Seriously, Travis," Annabeth said, rolling her eyes. "Sleeping bag. You know where one is?"

               Travis Stoll, a son of Hermes, shrugged. He was a tall, skinny guy with a mop of curly brown hair that hung into his twinkling blue eyes. He had elfish features, like most of his siblings; upturned eyebrows, a sarcastic smile, and a gleam in his eyes.

               "Sorry, Annie—"

               "Don't call me that."

               "—I don't know where one's at." Travis shrugged.

               The daughter of Apollo sighed and walked inside. "Do you know where Luke's at, then?"

               Travis shook his head. "Luke's busy, Posie."

               "Can you not call me Posie?" Josephine asked, frowning. "I hate that name."

               "Sorry, Posie. It's cute." Travis shrugged. "Anyway—Cecil nearly got his hand chopped off. Ares Cabin. He pissed one of them off."

               Josephine shared a look with Annabeth. "Sherman?" the blonde asked.

               Travis nodded. "Probably."

               "So you can't go and get supplies?" Annabeth jabbed Travis in the chest.

               "Fine," the son of Hermes groaned. "I'll do it. I'll get the supplies!"

               Annabeth watched the son of Hermes leave the cabin with keen grey eyes. She turned to Josephine to say, "We'll have to check the stuff before Percy gets it."

               "Yeah," agreed Josephine. "But I think shaving cream in a sleeping bag is better than Clarisse's version of camp initiation."

               Josephine picked at the skin around her fingernails, waiting for Chiron and Percy to arrive at Cabin Eleven. Annabeth was talking brightly about some blueprints she had recently created. Her love for architecture wasn't too shocking considering her mother, Athena, was the Goddess of Arts.

               Annabeth smiled brightly at Josephine, her grey eyes gleaning against her dark skin. She had recently braided her hair, deciding to mix in some blonde strands for something new. It was Silena Beauregard's idea, Josephine was pretty sure. Either way, Josephine thought the blonde complimented Annabeth nicely.

               "I think I perfected it this time, Posie," said Annabeth. She brushed some braids back, saying, "Last time, the model wasn't sturdy and would shake anytime I moved it. It would wobble even when someone walked next to it. I put more supports and—"

               But her face dropped, making Josephine turn her head. Walking toward them was Chiron and Percy. The latter was eyeing the two girls, as if waiting for Annabeth to make another snide remark. Chiron was out of his wheelchair, apparently, he decided Percy could handle the fact that he was a centaur and not wheelchair-bound.

               "Annabeth, Josephine," said Chiron as he and Percy stopped beside Cabin Eleven. "I have masters' archery class at noon. Would you take Percy from here?"

               Josephine faltered. "But, sir, you have it with my cabin—"

               Chiron smiled. "I'll tell Lee where you are, Josephine," he promised.

               Annabeth nodded. "We will, sir."

               "Then, Cabin Eleven," said Chiron, gesturing toward the doorway. "Make yourself at home," he told Percy.

               The inside of Cabin Eleven was filled to the brim with campers. Way more campers than the number of bunk beds. Sleeping bags were all over the floor, looking more like a place the Red Cross had set up for an evacuation center.

               Chiron didn't go in as the door was too low for him. But when the campers saw him they all stood and bowed respectfully.

               "Well, then," he said. "Good luck, Percy. I'll see you at dinner."

               He galloped away towards the archery range. Josephine frowned after him, wishing she was struggling through a class of archery than this.

               Percy stood frozen in the doorway, looking at the kids. They weren't bowing anymore. They were staring at him, sizing him up. They wanted to see if he would be an easy target.

               Josephine looked at Percy, giving him an encouraging smile. She knew what it was like to be the new kid at Camp. How scary and alone you felt in a place where it seemed that everyone already had their friends and cliques.

               She nudged him. "Go on."

               Percy took one step and tripped on a loose floorboard. Josephine winced silently. At least her first introduction to Cabin Eleven hadn't been like that. There were some snickers from the campers, but none of them said anything.

               Annabeth announced, "Percy Jackson, meet Cabin Eleven."

               "Regular or undetermined?" Connor Stoll, Travis's younger brother asked.

               "He's undetermined," Josephine said.

               A loud groan rippled through the cabin.

               Luke Castellan stepped past one of his younger siblings. He said with a smile, "Now, now, campers. That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there."

               Luke, the head counselor for Cabin Eleven, was the nineteen-year-old son of Hermes. He was tall and muscular, with short-cropped sandy hair and a friendly smile. He wore an orange tank top, cutoffs, sandals, and a leather necklace with five different-colored clay beads to represent his years at Camp Half-Blood. The only thing unsettling about his appearance was a thick white scar that ran from just beneath his right eye to his jaw, like an old knife slash. Compared to what it had looked like, the scar looked a lot less worse now.

               "This is Luke," Annabeth said, and her voice sounded different somehow. Josephine shook her head as a vein started to rear itself from the side of Annabeth's neck; a vein popped out everytime she was embarrassed or angry. "He's your counselor for now."

               "For now?" Percy asked.

               "You're undetermined," Luke explained patiently. "They don't know what cabin to put you in, so you're here. Cabin Eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the God of Travelers."

               Josephine looked at the inhabitants of Cabin Eleven as Percy made his way over to the small spot Luke had claimed for him. She hated her time in Cabin Eleven; she didn't miss it at all. She never exactly felt like a daughter of Apollo, but she was glad her father still had claimed her. That was better than some—there were too many who never got claimed at all.

               Percy was looking at his new cabinmates. His hand stayed tightly clenched around the Minotaur horn. Good idea, Josephine thought. Since he's sharing a cabin with kleptomaniacs.

               "How long will I be here?" Percy asked, looking at Luke.

               "Good question," said the son of Hermes. "Until you're determined."

               "How long will that take?"

               The campers all laughed. But the laughs weren't humorous, they were cynical and mocking.

               Josephine frowned. "Hey, Percy, you want to see the volleyball court?"

               "I've already seen it."

               "Well." She grabbed him by the wrist to pull him along. "You can see it a second time. To make sure you know where it is."

               Josephine dragged him as she and Annabeth left Cabin Eleven. Behind them, she heard the contemptuous laughter coming from the cabin.

✿

When they were a few feet away, Annabeth angrily said, "Jackson, you have to do better than that."

               Percy gave her an offended look. "What?"

               She rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, "I can't believe I thought you were the one."

               "What's your problem?" Percy demanded. "All I know is, I kill some bull guy—"

               "The Minotaur," Josephine corrected. "You killed the Minotaur."

               "Whatever. Minotaur, bull guy—same difference!"

               "Don't talk like that!" Annabeth scolded Percy. "You know how many kids at this camp wish they'd had your chance?"

               "Oh." He rolled his eyes. "To get killed?"

               "To fight the Minotaur! What do you think we train for?"

               "To not get killed," Josephine muttered.

               Percy shook his head. "Look, if the thing I fought really was the Minotaur, the same one in the stories ..."

               "It was." Josephine nodded. "Yes."

               "Then there's only one."

               "Also yes," said Josephine.

               "And he died, like, a gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So ..."

               "Monsters don't die, Percy. They can be killed. But they don't die."

               "Oh, thanks," Percy said sarcastically. "That clears it up."

               "They don't have souls, like you and me," Josephine spoke up. "When you kill them, you can dispel them—hopefully, for a long time, too. Maybe even for a whole lifetime if you're lucky. Chiron said they were called, um ..." She trailed off. She looked at Annabeth. "What d'he call them?"

               "Primal forces?" offered Annabeth. "Chiron also calls them archetypes."

               "Yeah, that," said Josephine. "Point is, monsters can die. You can kill. But eventually, they re-form. Always."

               Percy chewed on his bottom lip. "You mean if I killed one, accidentally, with a sword—"

               "The Fu—" Annabeth stopped herself. "I mean, your math teacher. That's right. She's still out there. You just made her very, very mad."

               "How did you know about Mrs. Dodds?"

               "You talk in your sleep," Josephine admitted. She wasn't going to tell him about everything she had learned from him; Percy had a math teacher, Mrs. Dodds, that had attacked him. That he managed to kill her with a sword Chiron had given him. And that his mother had vanished at the hands of the Minotaur shortly before Percy managed to kill the monster.

               "Annabeth almost called her something," Percy noticed. "A Fury? They're Hades' torturers, right?"

               Josephine winced at the name. "Be careful with names, Percy," she advised. "Especially those names. Here we call them the Kindly Ones, if we have to speak of them at all."

               "Look, is there anything we can say without it thundering?" Percy demanded, sounding whiny. "Why do I have to stay in Cabin Eleven, anyway? Why is everybody so crowded together? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there."

               He pointed to the first few cabins; Cabin One, Cabin Two, and Cabin Three.

               Annabeth paled. "You don't just choose a cabin, Percy. It depends on who your parents are. Or ... your parent."

               Percy stared at the two blankly. "My mom is Sally Jackson. She works at the candy store in Grand Central Station. At least, she used to."

               "I'm sorry about your mom, Percy. But that's not what I mean. I'm talking about your other parent. Your dad."

               "He's dead. I never knew him."

               Josephine licked her lips. "Is that what your mom told you?"

               "Not exactly." Percy shook his head. "She always told me he was just missing."

               "Well, he's not dead," said Josephine. "And he's not exactly missing either, Percy."

               "How can you say that?" he demanded. "You know him?"

               "Well—no." Josephine barely even knew her own father, let alone some other kids.

               "Then how can you say—"

               "Because I've been where you are before," Josephine cut him off. "I've been through this myself. Besides—if you weren't one of us" —she motioned a finger between herself and Annabeth— "you wouldn't be standing here alive. I know you, Percy. I know what you're going through."

               "You don't know anything about me," Percy said angrily.

               "I don't?" countered Josephine. "I bet you moved from school to school more times than you can count. You were probably kicked out of most of them—bad behavior, weird things happening that were all blamed on you."

               Percy flushed. "How—"

               "Diagnosed with dyslexia, too?" Josephine phrased it like a question, but it was more of a statement. "ADHD, too, I bet."

               Percy swallowed and flexed his jaw. "What does that have to do with anything?"

               "It has to do with everything." Josephine shrugged. "If I'm right on all of that—which I'm sure I am—that's a sure sign. The letters float off the page when you read, right? That's because your mind is hardwired for Ancient Greek. And the ADHD—you're impulsive, can't sit still in the classroom. That's your battlefield reflexes. In a real fight, they'd keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that's because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal's. Of course the teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters. They don't want you seeing them for what they are."

               "You sound like ..." Percy looked between her and Annabeth. "You sound like you went through the same thing?"

               "I did." Josephine nodded. "And so did Annabeth. Most kids here did. If you weren't like us, you couldn't have survived the Minotaur, much less the ambrosia and nectar."

               "Ambrosia and nectar."

               "The food and drink we were giving you to make you better," said Annabeth. "That stuff would've killed a normal kid. It would've turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and you'd be dead. Face it. You're a half-blood."

               Percy repeated the word half-blood to himself quietly. Josephine watched him carefully, feeling for him. She knew all the questions that had to be storming his mind.

               A husky voice yelled, "Well! A newbie!"

               Josephine nearly groaned at the voice, recognizing it; Clarisse La Rue, Daughter of Ares. The big girl sauntered over, bringing along three of her sisters.

               "Clarisse," Annabeth sighed. "Why don't you go polish your spear or something?"

               "Sure, Miss Princess," the big girl said. "So I can run you through with it Friday night."

               "Errete es korakas," Annabeth said. "You don't stand a chance."

               "We'll pulverize you," Clarisse said, but her eye twitched. Perhaps she wasn't sure she could follow through on the threat. She turned towards Percy. "Who's this little runt?"

               "Percy Jackson," Josephine introduced. "Um, Percy, this is Clarisse La Rue. She's a daughter of Ares."

               She tried not to sound salty. That was never a good tone to take with first introductions.

               The green-eyed boy blinked up at the daughter of war. "Like ... the war god?"

               Clarisse sneered. "You got a problem with that?"

               "No," he said. "It explains the bad smell."

               Josephine pursed her lips to stop from smiling.

               Clarisse growled. "We got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy."

               "Percy."

               "Whatever. Come on, I'll show you."

               "Oh, c'mon, Clarisse—" Josephine tried to step in.

               "Stay out of it, Posie."

               "Don't call me Posie!" Josephine stamped her foot.

               She didn't want to but knew there wasn't much she could do that wouldn't result in Clarisse beating her up, too. Percy handed Josephine his Minotaur horn and got ready to fight, but before he could even get one punch in, Clarisse had him by the neck and was dragging him toward the communal bathroom.

               Percy was kicking and punching, attempting to fight back, but he wasn't anything compared to the daughter of Ares. She dragged Percy into the girls' bathroom, Josephine following behind tentatively. There was a line of toilets on one side and a line of shower stalls down the other.

               Clarisse's friends were all laughing, and Percy was still struggling to fight against the girl.

               "Like he's 'Big Three' material," Clarisse said as she pushed him towards one of the toilets. "Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid-looking."

               Her friends snickered like that was the insult of the century, but it was only mediocre at best ( really, Clarisse should just stick to punching people instead of using words ). Annabeth and Josephine stood in the corner, watching through their fingers.

               Clarisse bent Percy over on his knees and started pushing his head towards the toilet bowl. He strained to keep his head up, refusing to touch the scummy water in the toilet bowl.

               Then something happened. Something strange. The plumbing rumble, and the pipes shudder, all around the cement structure. And then water shot out of the toilet, making an arc straight over Percy's head. And before Josephine could process anything else, Percy was sprawled on the bathroom tiles with Clarisse screaming behind him.

               Josephine closed her jaw just as another arc of water blasted out of the toilet again. The water smacked Clarisse straight in the face so hard it pushed her down onto her butt. The water stayed on her like the spray from a fire hose, pushing her backward into a shower stall.

               She struggled, gasping, and her friends started coming for her. But then the other toilets exploded, too, and six more streams of toilet water blasted them back. The showers acted up, too, and together all the fixtures sprayed the camouflage girls right out of the bathroom, spinning them around like pieces of garbage being washed away.

               As soon as they were out the door, the water shut off as quickly as it had started. The entire bathroom was flooded. Annabeth and Josephine hadn't been spared, either. They were soaked, but they hadn't been pushed out the door. They were standing in exactly the same place, staring at Percy in shock.

               Josephine licked her lips, saying in her best calm water, " ... Toilet water. Percy, I—" She stopped suddenly, a curse on the tip of her tongue. "I'm going to puke!"

               Percy stared at her cluelessly, looking down to find he was sitting in the only dry spot in the whole room. There was a circle of dry floor around him. He didn't have one drop of water on his clothes. Nothing.

               He stood up shakily, taking a deep breath. Josephine pushed her dark hair out of her face.

               Annabeth said, "How did you ..."

               "I don't know."

               They walked to the door. Outside, Clarisse and her friends were sprawled in the mud, and a bunch of other campers had gathered around to gawk. Clarisse's hair was flattened across her face. Her camouflage jacket was sopping and she smelled like sewage. She gave Percy a look of absolute hatred. "You are dead, new boy. You're totally fucking dead!"

               "You want to gargle with toilet water again, Clarisse?" Percy taunted, sneering at her. "Close your fucking mouth, then."

               The daughter of Ares's sisters had to hold her back. They dragged her towards Cabin Five, while the other campers made way to avoid her flailing feet.

               Josephine swallowed and looked at Percy.

               "What?" he demanded from her.

               "You're lucky I don't fight," she admitted plainly. "If you weren't new, I would totally punch you in the face for this."

               "Oh, thanks." Percy rolled his eyes. "I feel so lucky, Posie."

               "Don't call me Posie, Prissy!"

               "I'm thinking," Annabeth spoke up, her grey eyes swirling with ideas as she eyed Percy, "that I want you on my team for Capture the Flag."

✿ JUNE 3RD, 2023 / first chapter!!

posie is def different compared to my other ocs- she's not an asshole lol

no bc posie can have her moments but she's typically a more calmer person than like elisa or delaney

so part of me fears that it would be like 'boring' or something but i still love posie anyways

anyways,, thoughts? opinions??