𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩

Chapter α

Alpha - 1
∆

Rescue Gone Bad

  The Friday before winter break, Mom packed the siblings an overnight bag and a few deadly weapons and took them to a new boarding school. They picked up their friends (y/n), Annabeth and Thalia on the way.

  It was an eight-hour drive from New York to Bar Harbor, Maine. Sleet and snow
pounded the highway. The whole group hadn't seen each other in months, but between the blizzard and the thought of what they were about to do, they were too nervous to talk much.

  Except for Mom. She talks more when she's nervous. By the time they finally got to Westover Hall, it was getting dark, and she'd told (y/n), Annabeth and Thalia every embarrassing baby story there was to tell about Cyrus and Percy.

  Thalia wiped the fog off the car window and peered outside. "Oh, yeah. This'll be fun."

  Westover Hall looked like an evil knight's castle. It was all black stone, with towers and  slit windows and a big set of wooden double doors. It stood on a snowy cliff overlooking this big frosty forest on one side and the gray churning ocean on the other.

  "Are you sure you don't want me to wait?" Mom asked.

  "No, thanks, Mom," Percy said. "I don't know how long it will take. We'll be okay."

  "But how will you get back? I'm worried, Percy."

  Cyrus hoped he wasn't blushing. It was bad enough they had to depend on their mom to drive them to their battles.

  "It's okay, Ms. Jackson." Annabeth smiled reassuringly. Her blonde hair was tucked into a ski cap and her gray eyes were the same color as the ocean. "We'll keep them out of trouble."

  Mom seemed to relax a little. She thinks Annabeth is the most levelheaded demigod ever to hit eighth grade. She's sure Annabeth often keeps her sons from getting killed. She's right, but that doesn't mean Cyrus has to like it.

  "All right, dears," my mom said. "Do you have everything you need?"

  "Yes, Ms. Jackson," Thalia said. "Thanks for the ride."

  "Extra sweaters? You have my cell phone number?"

  "Mom—" Cyrus started.

  "Your ambrosia and nectar, boys? And a golden drachma in case you need to contact camp?"

  "Mom, seriously! We'll be fine. Come on, guys."

  She looked a little hurt, and Cyrus was sorry about that, but he was ready to be out of that car.

  If Mom told one more story about how cute he looked in the bathtub when he was three years old, he was going to burrow into the snow and freeze himself to death, even if he couldn't physically do that.

  Percy, (y/n), Annabeth and Thalia followed him outside, Benny being the last one out between the seats—the Hellhound had changed since last summer, when (y/n) had cut his throat open. He used to be a giant Tibetan mastiff, but now he was a smaller Golden Retriever, except without the Golden part. His coat was still fully black.

  Once Mom's car was out of sight, Thalia said, "Your mom is so cool, Cyrus."

  "She's pretty okay," he admitted. "What about ye'? Ye' ever get in touch with ye'r mum?"

  As soon as he said it, Cyrus wished he hadn't. Thalia was great at giving evil looks, that with the punk clothes she always wears—the ripped-up army jacket, black leather pants and chain jewelry, the black eyeliner and those intense blue eyes. But the look she gave him now was a perfect evil “ten.”