The Garden Of Evil: Book Two

Chapter 1: A Visit From My Criminal Friends

My day started when I turned on the television in the kitchen of our tiny New York apartment, seeing three of my best friends running from the police. My spoonful of Fruitloops was halfway in my mouth when I recognized the criminals; Max, Aella, and Gabe, three demigods, all running full speed through the traffic between the city streets. Cop cars were behind them, wailing and flashing red and blue. The funny thing was that it didn't concern or surprise me, for the three bonded after last summer's events. I only did a double take when I heard my front door open, and I was up from my chair, my sword, Typhoon, already in my hands. I hid behind the wall between the kitchen and the stairs, peeking out of the hallway and there stood a figure.

Wait, not a figure, more like three of them. I lowered my sword and flipped on the light in the hallway, it illuminating the faces of the not-so-mysterious half-bloods in my apartment. All three of them grew a little taller since the last time I saw them, which was six or so months ago at Christmas. And here they stood, out of breath but a wild look in all of their eyes.

"It's nice of you to let us into your humble home, Clark," speaks Gabe first, as he wraps me into a hug. He kisses me gently on the forehead for the sake of Aella and Max standing next to us, he avoided my lips. Gabe Porter asked me out around New Year's, and we didn't see eachother since then.

"What, no hugs for us?" asks Max, her electric blue eyes peering into mine.

I laugh and I pull Max into a hug, her height catching up with mine. Max was like an even younger sister of mine, behind Nat.

"Ow!" I screech, pulling back from Max and she laughs, a smirk on her lips.

"Sorry Dy, sometimes I tend to accidently shock people."

"Yeah, accidently. That's like saying the Titanic was an accident," I joke, pinching her cheeks.

I then turn to Aella, who's giving me a look, her eyebrows raised. "What, no hug for the somewhat-soft Ares kid?"

I couldn't resist. I pull Aella into a hug, and she hugs me back to the point where my ribs feel like they're being crushed by a giant.

"So, what are you guys doing here in my lovely home?" I ask them, eager to learn why they basically broke into my house.

"The real question is, why those pajamas?" asks Gabe, nodding down to my crop top baby blue shirt, and then to my cupcake designed silk pants.

"Oh shut it," I retort, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly, running my fingers through my morning hair. "But seriously, why all the trouble with the cops?"

"We may or may not have crashed a pegasi chariot into a Starbucks. Poor white girls, they were all screaming in terror, all clutching their Grande Caramel Macchiato's," says Aella, trying to hold in a laugh.

"Basically the police thought we crashed a rather large bus into a teenage-girl infested coffee shop," explains Max, adding onto what Aella said.

"So you thought coming here to wake me up would be the best idea why? It's an honor to know you would pick my house to hide at in a high speed police chase."

"Now if we get caught, you're officially a witness, Clark," Gabe says, ruffling my hair and takes a spoonful of my FruitLoops, quickly spitting them out. "What the hell, is this almond milk? You know I hate almond milk. This is a mistake to all of mankind! My stomach and my poor taste buds can't take this pain!" He whines, continuing to faint to my kitchen floor, acting dramatic.

"That's the Apollo boy we know and love. But seriously, get off the floor," says Aella to a now fake weeping and moaning Gabe.

"Why in the name of Zeus?" says a familiar voice, walking out from the other end of the hallway groggily.

"It's nice of you to join us Nat. Your sister's boyfriend here is having a major diva meltdown over almond milk. Good morning though," answers Aella, motioning to Gabe.

"It fucking hurts my kidneys!" cries Gabe, rolling around on the floor.

"Milk doesn't even go in your kidneys, dork," says Max, rolling her eyes.

"Well then... good morning to you all too. I really don't care about the kid rolling on the floor in hysterics over a liquid made from cows, so the real question is, why the hell are you all here?" asks Natalie, grabbing herself a bowl and starts to pour herself some cereal.

"It's a long story," I tell her, and she doesn't bother to want the details.

"Okay, one more thing. Why were you on your way to New York City?" I ask Max, and she looks to Aella.

"We have news to tell you. We're coming to get you to bring you and Nat to camp early this year," answers Aella.

"Well, you expect me to let three criminals into my house, one with dairy problems, and to pack for camp all in the same day?"

"It's kind of important so yes. Go ahead and pack," says Max.

"We'll go pack, but will someone please get this kid some regular milk before he drowns in his own tears?" asks Natalie, pointing to Gabe.

*********

I walk back into the hallway thirty minutes later, my trunk all packed. It contained a few clothes, such as lots of jean shorts and few extra pair of orange camp t-shirts. It also had a few personal items inside like a few photographs and my cell phone, even though we weren't aloud to use it.

"Ready to hop on the Starbucks Detroyer?" asks Gabe, now cleaned up and normal after his "hissy fit."

"So that's what you call it now?" Natalie asks, tugging on her large suitcase.

"Would you rather me call it the Messy Macchiato Machine?"

"Nope, Starbucks Destroyer works just fine," answers Nat, hopping into the chariot.

Gabe helps me onto the chariot, sitting next to me and I'm surprised we all fit in. He puts his arm around my neck, my suitcase between my feet.

"Ready to go back to camp?" he asks.

"Sure am," I say, looking at the horses and then at him.

I felt as if Camp Half Blood would be different this year without Ass. But then again, everything was since she passed. A year was coming up at the end of the summer, and the camp would be in tears, especially myself.

I push the thoughts aside and I look out at the sky and the buildings rushing past us, bracing for another year at camp.