This Dark Night ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase¹

―iv. demon pigeons ruin everything

NAOMI STILL DIDN'T CARE MUCH FOR CHARIOT RACES. She understood the appeal, she supposed—big, rickety vehicles slamming into each other on a narrow race track. It was sort of like bumper cars for ancient Greeks. 

But she was of the opinion that there were more important matters at hand—namely, the slowly dying tree that strengthened the camp borders and kept the campers who called it home from becoming monster food.

Alas, it seemed Tantalus didn't agree.

"What's the big deal about chariot racing, anyway?" Drew grumbled, taking a seat next to Naomi. "It's just a bunch of stupid-looking chariots with overcompetitive losers driving them."

"You think everyone's a loser, Tanaka," Ethan said from Naomi's other side.

"Everyone is a loser," Drew reminded him. "Everyone but me."

Ethan rolled his eyes. He nudged Naomi's arm with his shoulder. "Who do you think's gonna win?"

Naomi shrugged. When Percy and Annabeth were still on a team together, she would have easily said them. But now that they were manning their own chariots, she didn't know who to choose. 

She didn't really care who won, anyway—her cabin wasn't competing, so there was no chance of them getting the no-chores reward. Katie was boycotting the event—something about arboreal rights.

"Hephaestus has them all beat," Silena said as she and a few of the other Aphrodite kids settled behind Naomi and her friends. She passed Drew a bag of kettle corn with a stern, "Share." 

Drew rolled her eyes. "I know." She held the bag out to Naomi.

Naomi grinned as she took a handful.

"Hephaestus might have the craftsmanship, but Apollo's gonna have the speed," Ethan said, looking at the chariots with a critical eye. "It's a race. My money's on them."

Travis Stoll stuck his head forward between Naomi and Ethan, as if magically summoned by the mention of gambling. "Care to make that bet official, Nakamura?"

"Not a chance, Stoll," Ethan said without hesitation.

"What about you, Nay?" Connor asked, leaning forward to look at her profile. "You fancy placing a bet?"

"In your dreams," Naomi snorted.

"How'd you know I dreamed about robbing you blind in a chariot-race bet?"

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Aren't you competing?" she asked, jerking her chin toward the unmanned Hermes chariot.

"What, we can't take bets and compete at the same time?" Travis asked her. "It's called multi-tasking."

"It's called conspiracy," Ethan corrected, stealing some kettle corn from Naomi's handful. "Pretty sure it's frowned upon in serious competition."

"You guys are boring," Connor declared, shoving Ethan and Naomi apart to stand up on the next step down. "Watch us kick ass."

"More like suck ass," Drew snickered.

"Language," Silena chided half-heartedly as she checked her lipstick in a compact-mirror.

"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams started to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke, his right hand chased a chocolate éclair across the judge's table. "You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!" Tantalus smiled like he didn't mean it—he probably didn't. "Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s'mores at the campfire for a week! Now ready your chariots!"