NEVER BE THE SAME . . . percy jackson

six: the meeting.

HELL IS RIGHT around the corner, and Brooklyn was heading straight towards it.

Well, she supposed she liked camp, but it was a really dreary place nowadays.

From the top of Half-Blood Hill, she could see everything. Next to her, her sister's pine tree stood with the Golden Fleece hanging from its branches, magically protecting the camp from its enemies. The guard dragon Peleus dwarfed her, even curled around the tree trunk, lending up smoke signals as he snored. It almost made her want to smoke.

Below her spread the woods, the canoe lake glittering in the sunlight, and the climbing wall glowing from the lava pouring down its side. Twelve cabins — one for each Olympian god — made a horseshoe pattern around the commons area. Farther south were the strawberry fields, the armory, and the four-story Big House with its sky blue paint job and its bronze eagle weathervane.

In some ways, the camp hadn't changed. But you couldn't see the war by looking at the buildings or the fields. You could see it in the faces of the demigods and satyrs and naiads coming up the hill.

There weren't as many at camp as four summers ago, or even sooner. Some had left and never come back. Some had died fighting. Others — they don't talk about them now — had gone over to the enemy.

The ones who were still here were battle-hardened and weary. There was little laughter at camp these days. Even the Hermes cabin didn't play so many pranks. It's hard to enjoy practical jokes when your whole life feels like one.

Brooklyn ran down the hill because it was fun to do. Sadly, because of this, someone had seen her and walked over to her.

"Brooks!" Will Solace called, jogging up to her. "There's a head counselor meeting going on right now."

She groaned. "Do I have to go?"

"What do you think?"

"I hate life," she muttered as she turned and stomped angrily toward the Big House.

The senior counselors had gathered around the Ping-Pong table. The rec room had become the camp's informal headquarters for war councils. When Brooklyn came in, though, it looked more like a debate. She fucking hated debates.

"Tell Michael not to be a selfish jerk," Clarisse la Rue was saying as Brooklyn was walking to the meeting room.

"Oh, that's perfect, coming from you," Michael Yew said.

Brooklyn walked in, her eyes darting around for a seat. The Stoll brothers, Pollux from the Dionysus cabin, Katie Gardner from Demeter were taking up seats. Jake Mason was sitting there, though why, Brooklyn didn't know. Only Silena Beauregard didn't pay any attention. She sat beside Clarisse and stared vacantly at the Ping-Pong net. Her eyes were red and puffy. A cup of hot chocolate sat untouched in front of her.

Why was she . . . Brooklyn glanced toward Jake. Oh. That's why.

"Lucky you, coming in at the best time," she heard Percy's voice mutter in her ear, his lips eerily close to it.

She suppressed the shiver threatening to creep down her back, giving him a small, tight smirk. "Yeah, well . . . I missed you."

"Bullshit," he whispered.

"The only reason I'm here is to support Silena!" Clarisse shouted before Brooklyn could reply. Rude. "Otherwise I'd be back in my cabin."

"What are you talking about?" Percy demanded.

Pollux cleared his throat. "Clarisse has refused to speak to any of us, until her, um, issue is resolved. She hasn't spoken for three days."

"It's been wonderful," Travis Stoll said wistfully.