The Irregular of Olympus (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

Chapter Six: Camp Half-Blood

Percy POV

Once I got over the fact that my Latin teacher was a horse, we had a nice tour, though I was careful not to walk behind him. I'd done pooper-scooper patrol in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade a few times, and, I'm sorry, I did not trust Chiron's back end the way I trusted his front.

We passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the Minotaur horn I was carrying. Another said, "That's him."

Most of the campers were older than me. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. I wasn't normally shy, but the way they stared at me made me uncomfortable. I felt like they were expecting me to do a flip or something.

Yet something was odd as we passed by the campers. Other than them looking towards me and the horn, they were giving weird looks to non-other than Y/N.

A few were glaring at him while others stared in hatred. And I could feel their emotion, even though its not directly at me.

"Oh, look its Mister 'I am better at everything'." I heard someone whispered.

"Is he trying to show off again?" One more person said.

Everyone were saying bad things towards the guy, and I also almost felt bad for him. But I was mostly confused at the whole situation.

I looked over to Y/N who was walking behind us, and he wasn't reacting at all as to what everyone were saying to him.

He just kept his dirty expression, looking straight ahead while Isabella kept looking back forth towards him in worry.

I later looked back at the farmhouse. It was a lot bigger than I'd realized – four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, like an upscale seaside resort. I was checking out the brass eagle weather vane on top when something caught my eye, a shadow in the uppermost window of the attic gable. Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and I got the distinct impression I was being watched.

"What's up there?" I asked Chiron.

He looked where I was pointing, and his smile faded. "Just the attic."

"Somebody lives there?"

"No," he said with finality. "Not a single living thing."

I got the feeling he was being truthful. But I was also sure something had moved that curtain.

"Come along, Percy," Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. "Lots to see."

We walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe.

Chiron told me the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus. "It pays our expenses," he explained. "And the strawberries take almost no effort."