Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The next morning, Chiron moved Percy to cabin three.
He didn't have to share with anybody. He had plenty of room for all his stuff: the Minotaur's horn, one set of spare clothes, and a toiletry bag.
Percy got to sit at his own dinner table, pick all his own activities, call 'lights out' whenever he felt like it, and not listen to anybody else.
And he was absolutely miserable.
Just when he'd started to feel accepted, to feel he had a home in cabin eleven and he might be a normal kid—or as normal as you can be when you're a half-blood—he'd been separated out as if he had some rare disease.
Nobody mentioned the hellhound, but Percy got the feeling they were all talking about it behind his back.
The attack had scared everybody. It sent two messages: one, that Percy was the son of the Sea God; and two, monsters would stop at nothing to kill him They could even invade a camp that had always been considered safe.
The other campers steered clear of Percy as much as possible. Cabin eleven was too nervous to have sword class with him after what he'd done to the Ares folks in the woods, so his lessons with Luke became one-on-one.
Luke pushed Percy harder than ever, and wasn't afraid to bruise him up in the process.
Marlowe was one of the only people who stayed with Percy throughout everything. She wasn't afraid of him like everyone else was.
Plus, since she knew all about Luke and his true intentions, she didn't want to leave Percy alone with him. She attended his sword lessons, stating that she wanted to get as good with a sword as she was with a bow and arrow.
"You're going to need all the training you can get," he promised, as the three were working with swords and flaming torches. "Now let's try that viper-beheading strike again. Fifty more repetitions."
Annabeth still taught Percy and Marlowe Greek in the mornings, but she seemed distracted. Every time Percy said something, she scowled at him, as if he'd just poked her between the eyes. After lessons, she would walk away muttering to herself: "Quest...Poseidon?...Dirty rotten...Got to make a plan..."
Percy would look over to Marlowe for answers, but she just shrugged her shoulders, even though she knew everything. "Don't worry about her, Perce," she waved him off.
Even Clarisse kept her distance, though her venomous looks made it clear she wanted to kill Percy for breaking her magic spear.
Percy wished Clarisse would just yell or punch him or something. He'd rather get into fights every day than be ignored.
The black haired boy knew somebody at camp resented him, because one night he came into his cabin and found a mortal newspaper dropped inside the doorway, a copy of the New York Daily News, opened to the Metro page.
