The tides uclaimed

Rough memories and the ones yet to crash upon us

chapter three

After meeting everyone at the campfire and trying to relax, I eventually made my way to the Hermes cabin—cabin eleven, if I'd been listening right. The place was massive, bigger than any other cabin I'd seen, as if its size had to match the number of campers it often held. Annabeth had mentioned that it used to be packed, bursting with kids who hadn't yet been claimed by their godly parents. But things had changed in recent years; now, the gods were claiming their children more often. She'd even hinted that I might be claimed soon, though I wasn't sure what to think of that.
Annabeth had been surprisingly nice, given her fierce, no-nonsense demeanor. She looked tough, but there was a warmth beneath the surface, a quiet strength that drew people in. Jude, the girl I'd met earlier, had that same vibe—fierce on the outside but with a kindness that showed when she thought no one was watching. I hoped I'd become friends with them. In my fifteen years, I'd never really had anyone I could call a friend. It had always been just me, keeping my head down and hoping to go unnoticed. Friends were... uncharted territory.
I sighed as I sat on my bunk, pulling my old, worn-out backpack closer. I hadn't bought new things in ages; my mom wasn't exactly poor, but she'd never spent much on me. "Unwanted," she'd called me once, her voice quiet but sharp. Maybe she was right... But here at camp, things seemed different. Maybe the kids here wouldn't see me as just another castaway.
Unpacking my things, I first pulled out a tangled phone charger, then my little, battered Nokia phone. It was ancient, some old design with cracks spider-webbing across the screen. It looked like it had survived a war—probably from when I tripped on my way off the bus. I rolled my eyes at myself. "Clumsy Adria," my mom would say with a shake of her head.
I kept going, pulling out a few shirts, a pair of jeans, and three beaded necklaces I'd made over the years. The first one was light blue and gold, a combination that reminded me of the sea and felt peaceful, calming. I'd saved up for weeks working at an ice cream shop to buy the beads and string from a kid selling supplies, then spent hours crafting it. Making necklaces had become my secret hobby, though I'd run out of string after that last one and hadn't had any money to buy more supplies.
The other two necklaces were simple, both dark blue and black, unremarkable except for what they symbolized—reminders of the times I'd been on my own. I looked at them for a moment, feeling a pang of loneliness, then set them aside.
Finally, I pulled out my most precious possession: Bun-Bun, my stuffed bunny. Light brown with dark brown stitching, dark brown ears, and a tiny bow to match, he was the one thing that had stayed with me through everything. Maybe it was silly to still hold onto a stuffed animal at my age, but Bun-Bun was the only thing I'd ever had that truly felt like it belonged to me. Hugging him to my chest, I took off my scuffed white Converse and lay down, hoping sleep would come.
But it didn't. I twisted and turned, staring up at the dim glow of the clock above Marissa's bunk until the numbers read 4:00 a.m. Giving up, I climbed out of bed and packed my things back into my backpack, attempting to make my bed look half-decent. I didn't really know how; Mom had always done it for me and never taught me how, just complained when it wasn't perfect.
I slipped out of the cabin as quietly as I could and sat down on the steps, the early morning air cool against my skin. I fiddled with my hair, braiding small sections just to keep my hands busy. My ash-brown hair felt rough, tangled from the day's events, and my heterochromatic eyes—a mix of green and blue—stared out at the camp in the quiet pre-dawn. I didn't feel pretty. I'd never gotten much attention, and pretty people were the ones who got noticed, right?
Lost in my thoughts, I almost missed the soft crunch of footsteps approaching until a figure loomed in front of me. Startled, I looked up to see a boy about my age, with messy light brown hair and a smudged face covered in what looked like oil and dirt. He wore a sleeveless white t-shirt and green cargo pants, his hands stained with grease, as if he'd been working on some project all night.
He didn't notice me at first and nearly stepped on my foot. "Whoa, watch it!" I yelped, instinctively putting my hands up to push him back.
"GODS, sorry!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening as he stumbled back. His gaze settled on me, taking in my face with a look of surprise.
"You new?" he muttered, still trying to shake off his shock.
I raised an eyebrow, unable to resist a bit of sarcasm. "Yeah, no, I've been here four years," I replied dryly, rolling my eyes.
He stared, clearly not getting it. "Oh... my memory's bad. Sorry."
I couldn't help but smirk. "I'm joking. I'm new."
Realization dawned, and he broke into a grin. "Oh, thank the gods, I thought I was going nuts. I'm Elliot, son of Hephaestus. Everyone calls me Eli."
"Adria," I said, giving him a small smile. "Nice to meet you, Elliot."
He gave a little mock bow, clearly enjoying himself. "Well, Adria, I'm off to work, but I'll see you around."
With that, he ducked into the Hermes cabin and re-emerged a few minutes later with a pair of rollerblades. I had no idea what he was up to, but as he disappeared around the corner, I felt a small, lingering sense of something new: maybe I wasn't as invisible here.
Later, at breakfast, I sat with some of the Hermes kids—Connor, Marissa, and a few others who seemed to delight in pranks and tricks. They stole food off other tables without anyone noticing, moving with a speed and precision that left me laughing along with them. It felt nice, being part of a group for once.
At a nearby table, I noticed Eli and the rest of the Hephaestus cabin, huddled together, lost in their own world. Eli was busy tinkering with something under the table, his siblings leaning in and talking about gears, levers, and metalwork. I watched, intrigued, feeling a strange sense of curiosity.
After breakfast, we had free time—a rare occurrence, according to Annabeth. Everyone seemed thrilled, lounging around the picnic tables and chatting. Jude and Annabeth sat on my right, both looking more relaxed than I'd seen them before, as if these moments were precious. Eli strolled over and sat down on my left, shooting me a grin.

We talked for a bit around the campfire, laughter mixing with the crackling of flames. Then Jude asked, her voice a bit quieter, "So... how's life back at home? Your mom's a mortal, right?"
"Yep," I replied, keeping it short, hoping she'd drop it there. My mom was gone—had been for a day—and the pain of it was still raw, mingled with guilt that I couldn't explain.
Jude hesitated, her curiosity winning out. "Did you... run away to get here? You were being chased, right?"
I laughed without humor. "Yeah. I ran away from a police station."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Whoa, kid, you in trouble or something?"
Annabeth and Eli exchanged glances, but Jude leaned closer. I took a breath, my voice dropping to barely a whisper. "No... no, not like that. They were looking to put me in foster care. My mom, uh... she died a few days ago."
Silence fell around us. Eli's face softened, and before anyone else could speak, he murmured, "I'm sorry."
But I didn't want their pity. The wind shifted, the sky darkening as clouds thickened above us. "My mom... wasn't the best person," I said, my voice unsteady, as if each word pulled out memories I'd tried to bury. All the fights, her cold indifference—they filled my mind like ghosts. She'd barely been there for me, but somehow, a part of me still ached with guilt, as if I'd somehow caused it all.
Annabeth's face had turned pale, her gaze flickering to the lake, where waves were churning, rougher and wilder with each second. "We should get inside. I'll go find Chiron," she said urgently.
Before she could take a step, a massive wave—fifteen feet high—rose from the lake and crashed toward us. It hit the shore with a roar, soaking everyone in its path. But as the water sprayed and drenched them, I stood untouched, not a single drop on me, as if the wave had avoided me entirely.
In the corner of my eye, a faint glow caught my attention. I looked up and saw it—a trident, glowing in a soft green-blue light, hovering just above my head.
The murmurs started, campers whispering and staring, Jude, Annabeth, and Eli frozen, mouths open in shock. Then, Percy jogged over, his expression a mix of excitement and surprise, and behind him came a centaur—a figure I'd only heard about in myths—half horse, half man. He approached, a calm, almost reverent look in his eyes.
"Adria," he said, his voice warm and powerful, "child of the sea, daughter of Poseidon. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood."