The Daughter of the Sun

**18**

As we walk to the Hermes table, people pretty much ignore me, which is new. Not because I'm pretty or anything, but because I'm usually new. When we stop, Autumn goes up behind Connor and says hello really loudly, causing him to jump and whirl around. When he sees it's Autumn, Connor relaxes slightly, but is still cautious.

"Hi, Autumn. What brings you here on this fine eve?" he asks, his smirk still firmly in place.

She gestures at me, and says,

"This is Bailey. She just got here today."

Connor looks me up and down, and I fight the urge to pull down my sweatshirt selfconciously. First, because that would be showing fear, and if I've learned anything from transferring to a different school every so often, it's that you never show fear. Second, because I don't have my sweatshirt anymore. Because, you know, it's ashes now.

Apparently, he likes what he sees, because he smiles and invites me to sit next to him. 

"Thanks," I say, glad to at least have a seat. (Sometimes at a new school, nobody would let me sit with them, so I'd just go to the library or hide out in the bathroom)

Autumn leaves and sits at a table with a bunch of tanned and loud kids as I sit down at the table, surprised that with all these people at the table, the cloth is still clean.

In front of me is a gold, ruby encrusted goblet. I soon figure out that it's enchanted to magically fill with whatever drink I want. I ask for some root beer and it's so rich and frothy and delicious that it's impossible to just sip it. I take a huge gulp. When the level of the liquid doesn't go down, I look around in confusion.

"It never empties," I hear from my left. I look over to see a girl who looks like a weasel with long hair and too much makeup. I'm not trying to judge or anything, but seriously. Her face is narrow and pointy, her hair is long and dark in her braid, like her beady eyes. She's wearing eyeliner that covers her entire eyelid, too much blush, and about ten layers of purple lipstick. Her dark green cami is way low cut, showing off...nothing. She's super skinny, and I can see faint lines on her wrist. 

"Hi, I'm Bailey," I introduce myself, holding out my hand.

She smirks at me.

"Arlene, but my friends call me Nee," She says, holding my hand in her weak, sweaty grip.

"Okay, Nee, is there food here?" I ask, politely, I might add.

"I said my friends call me Nee. I didn't say that you could," she rebuffs me, then adds a fake, tight-lipped smile to show that she was 'joking'. I know this kind of person, there's been plenty over the years--at least one per school. 

"I'd like to have a battle of wits, but it would be wrong to attack someone so completely unarmed," I say, and sigh.

Her reaction is priceless; She glares at me, then seems to get what I'm saying. Her eyes bug out and her face turns red. She crosses her arms and whips around to stand up, purposely whipping me with her braid. It stings more than it should, so I put my hand to my cheek. When I look at my fingers, they're bloody.

Connor leans in so I can hear him and says, "Yeah, she braids her hair with freaking glass and razors," He shudders and tells me, "You don't want to  get on her bad side...Looks like it's too late for you, though."

"I'm not worried," I tell him flippantly, though inside I'm just a teensy bit worried about the freakin' insane person who braids her hair with fricken' sharp stuff.

Bam!  A loud sound comes from by the bathfire (I don't know the technical term for it, so that's what I'm calling it). 

Annnnnyyyywaaayyy...

I look up to see what made the noise, and see a centaur with white horsehair and the torso of a middle-aged man with shaggy brown hair, an even shaggier brown beard, and kindly brown eyes. Next to him sits a pudgy, doughy man with curly hair so black it looks purple. I can almost hear this guy's shirt, it's so loud--and I can only see the top half. In front of the guy is a can of diet Pepsi, and surrounding him is a--gaggle, flock, group--of satyrs, standing at attention with platters of peeled grapes.  

I nudge Connor and ask who they are.

"The horse guy is Chiron, and the other dude is Mr. D--Dionysus-- the camp director. He's here because he chased an off-limits nymph and this is his punishment," he whispers, as everyone else is quiet.

"The wine dude is our director? How does he run things? Isn't he supposed to be drunk all the time? He doesn't look drunk," I unleash a barrage of whispered questions at Connor until he looks faintly panicked.

"Um...maybe don't call him that, and he's on probation as part of his punishment," Connor lowers his voice even more, as Chiron bangs his hoof on the ground again.

"Campers, I'd like to announce that Capture the Flag starts in ten minutes. Hermes cabin and their allies against Aphrodite cabin and their allies," Chiron announces, having to raise his voice in order to be heard over the sudden excited clamoring. 

After Chiron steps  back, I turn to  Connor.

"I love Capture the Flag!" I tell him.

"It's not like the kind you uses to play at school," he  informs me, "This  version is  with weapons." His smirk widens at my apprehensive expression. 

I struggle to control my alarm, saying, "Well, that sounds...Dangerous."

"Not really. There's no magical items or 'abilities', so if you're smart--or have a good teammate, like me--you won't die," he informs me nonchalantly, looking at me out of the corner of his eye, gauging my reaction.

"But, there's, like, real weapons, right?" I ask, not because I'm scared or anything, but just to make sure. For a friend. She's scared, not me.

"Sorry, noob, but this is no prank. I would know," he says, then gets lost in idea-land, where I'm sure there's many, many, many  diabolic inhabitants.

"Great," I mutter while we stand, merging into the crowd of excited campers, going to do Capture-the-Flag Prepare-y things, "More dangerous things that can kill me is just what I need right now."