Deadly Waters | Percy Jackson

9. In Which the Adults are Content to Send Children to their Death

The next morning, Percy actually took the time to look around cabin three.

He didn't have to share with anybody. He had plenty of room for all his stuff: the Minotaur's horn, one set of spare clothes, and a toiletry bag. He got to sit at his own dinner table, pick all his own activities, call "lights out" whenever he felt like it, and not listen to anybody else.

And he was absolutely miserable.

Just when he'd started to feel accepted, to feel he had a home in cabin eleven and he might be a normal kid- or as normal as you can be when you're a half-blood - he'd been separated out as if he had some rare disease.

Nobody mentioned the hellhound, but Percy got the feeling they were all talking about it behind his back; which Pez dutifully informed him was a correct assumption. The attack had scared everybody. It sent two messages: one, that he was the son of the Sea God; and two, monsters would stop at nothing to kill him. They could even invade a camp that had always been considered safe.

The kid that had been screaming incoherently after the event was actually one of the Ares kids that had jumped Percy. Apparently, he had been attacked by a dark figure just before it all happened and had been knocked out. He said they were short, with the darkest hair he'd ever seen and eyes, he shakily recalled, eyes of death. He said that they were the one that summoned the hellhound.

Everyone immediately went on a manhunt, looking for the one they now thought was responsible for the attack.

Percy wasn't convinced.

He'd had to talk to Pez about laying even lower for a few days after that stunt.

She still claims that she did nothing other than knock the guy out – however, the unbidden smirk that rose to her lips every time it was brought up, told otherwise.

The other campers steered clear of him as much as possible. Cabin eleven was too nervous to have sword class with him after what he'd done to the Ares folks in the woods, so his lessons with Luke became one-on-one. He pushed Percy harder than ever, and wasn't afraid to bruise him up in the process.

"You're going to need all the training you can get," he promised, as they were working with swords and flaming torches. "Now let's try that viper-beheading strike again. Fifty more repetitions."

The only good part about everyone leaving when he entered the arena, was that Pez could stop hiding for a bit, meaning Percy could teach her all the things he could from Luke's lessons so that he could have someone to practice with when there was nothing else to do.

Of course, Pez being Pez, she had already been spying on those lessons, meaning she already knew and was naturally quicker to pick up the moves.

At least I can get some proper practice in, Percy thought as he blocked one of her blows, without getting completely pulverised.

That being said, the next second Pez kicked at his ankles, forcing him to the ground with a loud 'oof'.

Annabeth still taught him Greek in the mornings, but she seemed distracted. Every time Percy said something – much to Pez's delight – the girl scowled at him, as if he'd just poked her between the eyes.

After lessons, she would walk away muttering to herself: "Quest . . . Poseidon? . . . Dirty rotten . . . Got to make a plan . . ."

Pez pointed out that even Clarisse was keeping her distance, though her venomous looks made it clear she wanted to kill Jackson for breaking her magic spear. Percy wished she would just yell or punch him or something. He'd rather get into fights every day than be ignored.