Wildfires, Heroes of Olympus ₂

071, this and a pop-tart

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
SILVIANA              DUVALL

Sylvie hated getting Leo for meetings in the mess hall.

Every time, she was the one tasked with getting him. Every time, he was in the middle of some absurd project that could take half an hour to pull his attention away from.

Today, he was wedged between the layers of the hull with the plumbing and wiring. Or, at least his waist and up were. His butt and legs were still on view to Sylvie.

"Come on, Valdez!" she called. "We need you."

Sylvie heard some object clatter into the depths of his crawl space.

Leo sighed. "Talk to the pants, vaquera! 'Cause the hands are busy!"

"I am not talking to the pants. Meeting in the mess hall. We're almost to Olympia."

"Yeah, fine. I'll be there in a sec."

"What are you doing, anyway? You've been poking around inside the hull for days."

She could see a hint of Leo sweeping his flashlight around the mechanics around him. "Routine maintenance," he muttered.

Sylvie went silent. She had gotten pretty good at knowing when he was lying.

"Leo—"

"Hey, while you're out there, do me a favor. I got this itch right on my ass—"

"Fine, I'm leaving!"

That was why she hated getting Leo for meetings in the mess hall. Whatever. She just joined her seven other friends as they ate breakfast.

The first thing she spotted was that they were reserving the seat at the head of the table for her. Still. And she didn't know why. Still. Her quest under Rome ended long ago, and Sylvie wasn't ever really their quest leader to begin with.

But Percy was next to the empty seat, so of course Sylvie took it.

"Hey." He smiled. "I saved you a Pop-Tart."

Sylvie gave him a hesitant look as she sunk in her chair. He knew, more than anyone here, that she was struggling with eating lately. He'd known since Tartarus.

She understood that he cared about her, and she loved that he did, but it made her feel like one huge embarrassment whenever he brought it to light. The already-festering frustration and agitation inside Sylvie grew every time she thought about food too much. She was going to be a savior of Olympus for a second time. She couldn't afford to be stopped by a plate of one Pop-Tart.

"Eat, Sylv," Percy told her, voice still quiet but firmer this time.

"I'm trying," she responded, tone just as hard.

As Sylvie picked at the corner of the Pop-Tart, her fingers crumbling the edge into fine dust, she could feel Percy watching her. He wasn't staring—not exactly—but his attention was as present as the tart in front of her. She hated how much it burned.