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a pimple from mom
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Phoebe remembered the Battle of Manhattan like it was yesterday. It practically was. Months had gone by, but every traumatizing moment stayed fresh in her mind.
Campers, hunters, and gods alike battling against the Titans and the traitors. Winning no matter what the cost.
Phoebe looked like a mess. Her Camp Half-Blood shirt had more holes than she could count. Her embroidered Converse had more frayed thread than visible designs. And, the day they went into battle, she just so happened to be wearing her white denim mom shorts. Needless to say, they weren't white anymore.
