𝕮𝖗𝖚𝖊𝖑 - 𝕱𝖊𝖒𝕺𝕮𝖝𝕷𝖊𝖔 𝖁𝖆𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖟

3. I'm a Debby Downer?

If you want to be popular at Camp Half-Blood, don't com back from a mission with bad news.

Word of my and Percy's arrival spread as soon as we walked out of the ocean. Our beach is on the North Shore of Long Island, and it's enchanted so most people can't even see it. People don't just appear  on the beach unless they're demigods or gods or really, really lost pizza delivery guys. (The Dionysus kids were hosting a party and had the great idea for pizza).

Anyway, that afternoon the lookout on duty was Connor Stoll from the Hermes cabin. When he spotted us, he got so excited he fell out of his tree. Then he blew the conch horn to signal the cam and ran to greet us.

Connor had a crooked smile that matched his crooked sense of humor I loved. He's a great guy, but always keep a hand on your valuables when he's around, and do not, under any circumstances, give him access to shaving cream unless you want to find your sleeping bag full of it. He's got curly brown hair and is a little shorter than his brother, Travis, which is the only way I can tell them apart.

"Percy! Kiera!" He yelled. "What happened? Where's Beckendorf?" 

Then he saw our faces, and his smile melted. "Oh, no. Poor Silena. Holy Zeus, when she finds out. . ."

I was glad my clothes change back to the ones from our mission, but it only reminded me more and more of what happened. Together, the three of us climbed the sand dunes. A few hundred yards away, people were already streaming towards us, smiling and excited.

We stopped at the dining pavilion and waited for them. No sense rushing down there to tell them how much I sucked at protecting people.

I gazed across the valley and tried to remember how Camp Half-Blood looked the first time I ever saw it. It seemed like bajillion years ago.

From the dining pavilion, you could see pretty much everything. Hills ringed the valley. On the tallest, Half-Blood Hill, Thalia's pine tree stood with the Golden Fleece hanging form it's branches, magically protecting the camp from enemies. The guard dragon Pelus was so big now I could see him from here—curled around the tree trunk, sending up smoke signals as he snored.

To my right spread the woods. To my left, the canoe lake glittered and the climbing wall glowed from the lava pouring down the side. Twelve cabins—one for each Olympian god—made a horseshoe pattern around the commons area. Farther south were the strawberry fields, the armory, and the four-story Big House with its sky blue paint job and its eagle weathervane.

In some ways, the camp looked the same. But you couldn't see the war by looking at the buildings or the fields. You could see it in the faces of the demigods and satyrs and naiads coming up the hill.

There weren't as many at camp as four summers ago. Some had left and never returned. Some had died fighting. Others—we tried not to talk about them—had gone over to the enemy.

The ones who were still here were battle-hardened and weary. There was little laughter at camp these days. Even the Hermes cabin didn't play so many pranks. It's hard to enjoy jokes when your whole life feels like one too.

Chiron galloped into the pavilion first, which was easy for him since he's a white stallion from the waist down. His beard had grown wilder over the summer. He wore a green T-shirt that said MY OTHER CAR IS A CENTAUR and a bow slung over his back.

"Percy! Kiera!" He said. "Thank the gods. But where. . ."

Annabeth ran in right behind him. And I could see Percy's face grow red. I wanted to laugh and punch him in the arm, but I decided against trying to lighten the mood this time. She ran up and practically tackled Percy in a hug. When they separated, she grabbed his arm. "What happened? Is Luke—"