ENTRAPPED ₂

63

MADELEINE WAS A CREATURE OF GLORY.

Growing up at Camp Half-Blood was part of the reason. As soon as you are claimed, the senior counselors all give you a hard pat on the back and say, "Glory, kid. Go get it."

Luke had always been obsessed with glory, hence the scar on his cheek and his constantly-clenched fists. He had always wanted to be noticed.

Here was Madeleine's idea of a good life: a quiet suburban house in California with her closest friends. She had never wanted to do anyone's bidding. For her, it had never been about glory. It had been about survival. It had been about redemption. It had been about getting even.

Glory was never part of the equation for Madeleine. Which was why she found it so ironic that now, she was overflowing with glory.

She wanted it to end.

⎯⎯ ୨ entrapped ୧ ⎯⎯

Madeleine woke tucked neatly into her bed, as if someone had taken great care to put her there. Hercules's skull lay on her desk, grinning hideously at her. The small circular window in her room was dark. She could see water sloshing and the stars twinkling above. She thought: I did it, sweetheart.

Madeleine had been remembering Zoe for far longer than she had ever known her. Now the Huntress was more ghost than girl. In a way, that was the most comforting option that Madeleine could afford. If she was forced to live with Luke's ghost imprinted on the backs of her eyelids, then she could use something a little gentler.

She was alone in the room, which was a surprise. She felt like she hadn't gotten a moment alone in weeks, ever since the Argo II had set off for Europe. There was always someone by her side. Ethan, Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Piper, Leo, Hazel, Frank. They all cared for Madeleine, all wanted to talk to her. Or she wanted to talk to them.

Gingerly, she slid out of bed. She was still wearing the clothes she had put on this morning. They were wrinkled now, so she elected to change. She brushed her teeth and her hair and pulled on a sports bra, because she was in the mood to spar. She was digging through her chest when she found a pair of pastel pink sweatpants with hearts on the pockets.

They were Drew's. Madeleine knew it instantly. She had worn these a million times. Madeleine was so surprised that they were in her chest that for a moment she worried that Drew would be upset about losing them. Then she realized that Drew had helped make this room, had helped pack for Madeleine. Drew had done this on purpose.

Oh, that lovely, lovely girl. Madeleine pulled the pants to her face. They smelled like Drew, a mixture of lip gloss and strawberries and love. Madeleine sat there for what felt like a long time, clutching the fabric to her chest. It was not her best friend, but it was the closest Madeleine had gotten in months.

She missed Drew so much. She missed all of them. She hadn't really given herself time to think about it, but now she did. She missed Drew and Lee, Castor and Pollux, Connor and Travis, Chris and Clarisse. She had spent so long missing the dead that she had neglected her friends back home. There was a resounding ache in her gut and the back of her throat, like she might die if she didn't see them soon.

Madeleine knew things would be so easy with them. She could tell Drew about her strange powers, and Drew would make a few jokes and calm her down and make her feel like herself again. She could tell Clarisse how angry she had gotten, and Clarisse would laugh at her and then hold her tight. She could tell Connor how much she missed listening to him snore in the night. She could fall asleep to the lull of Lee's voice as he played the guitar. Castor would braid her hair and they would eat strawberries in the fields until Chiron came and scolded them, until they were sick off of the sugar.