WHITE NOISE , percy jackson [1]

THREE

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Word of the bathroom incident had spread immediately, and it really didn't help that both Milan and Annabeth were dripping wet. Milan grieved his current appearance, and he didn't even want to know what kind of smell he was giving off. In front of Percy, no less. So it didn't take a genius to know that his mood had worsened.

He and Annabeth showed Percy more of the sights around camp, such as the metal shop, where kids could forge their own swords; the arts and crafts room, where satyrs were sandblasting a giant marble statue; and the climbing wall, which shook violently, dropped boulders, sprayed lava, and clashed together if you didn't get to the top fast enough. Just what Percy was expecting for a normal summer camp.

Finally, they returned to the canoeing lake, where a trail led back to the cabins. "I've got training to do," Annabeth said flatly. "Dinner's at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin to the mess hall."

Like Milan, she wasn't very amused at the fact that she was dripping wet. Percy picked up on that. "Annabeth, I'm sorry about the toilets."

"Whatever," she replied.

"It wasn't my fault."

Annabeth stared at him, like she wanted him to go back and reconsider what he'd just said. Because really, it was his fault. "You need to talk to the Oracle," she decided.

"Who?"

"Not who. What. The Oracle. I'll ask Chiron." With that, Annabeth walked down the trail, leaving Milan alone with Percy.

As Percy stared into the lake, Milan looked at his face, analyzing his expressions. When he saw Percy wave at the naiads, he finally spoke up. "Just so you know, naiads are terrible flirts."

"Naiads," Percy repeated. He couldn't believe how much his world had changed in just one week. "That's it. I want to go home now."

Milan only smiled. "That's what I said when I first got here. In case you couldn't tell, I'm not even from this country. It's definitely a lot to get used to."

"Yeah..." Percy said, looking into Milan's deep, dark eyes. It was like he suddenly realized how easy it was to get lost in them; despite how dark Milan's eyes were, they also carried a lot of depth. He cleared his thoughts, shaking his head slightly. "Where are you from, anyways? Wait, are you, like, actually Greek?"

Milan laughed a little. He really didn't think his accent sounded Greek in the slightest. "Close, but no. Croatian. You won't see as many fully Greek demigods, unless their parents are first-generation Greek Americans or something."

"Demigods," Percy repeated. Milan could tell he was still hung up on that, but he couldn't blame him. "Isn't that kind of... crazy?"

"I mean, if you didn't believe in the gods before this, yes. But if you think about it, not really. I mean, in the old stories, the gods loved running around and having children with mortals. That's what caused, like, most of the Iliad to happen. I think it's not crazy that their habits haven't changed."

Percy nodded. "So then, your dad is Mr. D. Dionysus."

Milan nodded. He was worried about the kind of impression his dad made on Percy while he was gone. "Yes, that is correct. God of wine, theater, and madness."