Percy gets a little brother

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Ever come home just to see that someone has "cleaned" your room? It was a nice thing to do so you can't really get mad but at the same time it's super annoying sense you can't find anything anymore? And even if nothings actually missing, you get that creepy feeling like somebody's been looking through your private stuff and dusting everything with lemon furniture polish?

That's exactly how it was seeing Camp Half-Blood again.

On the surface, things didn't look all that different. The Big House was still there with its blue gabled roof and its wraparound porch. The strawberry fields still baked in the sun. The same white-columned Greek buildings were scattered around the valley—the amphitheater, the combat arena, the dining pavilion overlooking Long Island Sound. And nestled between the woods and the creek were the same cabins—a wonky assortment of twelve buildings, each representing a different Olympian god.

But there was definitely something off with it all. You could just tell something was wrong. Instead of playing volleyball in the sandpit, counselors and satyrs were stockpiling weapons in the tool shed. Dryads armed with bows and arrows talked nervously at the edge of the woods. The forest looked sickly, the grass in the meadow was pale yellow, and the fire marks on Half-Blood Hill stood out like ugly scars.

Somebody had messed with Camp, and let me just say, I was pretty ticked off.

As we made our way to the Big House, I recognized a lot of kids from last summer. Nobody stopped to talk. Nobody said, "Welcome back!" Some did double takes when they saw Tyson but most just walked grimly past and carried on with their duties—running messages, toting swords to sharpen on the grinding wheels. The camp felt like some twisted military school. And believe me, I know. I've been kicked out of a couple of those.

None of that seemed to matter to Tyson though. He was absolutely fascinated by everything he saw. He looked like a little kid going to a theme park for the first time. All wide eyed and excited.

"What's that!" he gasped.

"The stables for pegasi," Percy said.

"Winged horses." I clarified

"What's that!"

Percy looked to where he was pointing. "Um...those are the toilets."

"What's that!"

"Those are all of the cabins." I said

Percy nodded his head. "If they don't know who your Olympian parent is, they put you in the Hermes cabin—that brown one over there—until you're determined. Then, once they know, they put you in your dad or mom's group."

He looked at us in awe. "You...have a cabin?"

"We both do." I started, "I'm in that one over there. Cabin one."

I looked on at the tall stone building. That's one part of camp I wasn't all too excited about. It was always cold and kinda creepy in there. With all of the changes at camp I thought that maybe the vibe would have changed around that place. Nope, it seemed just as odd as it was the last summer.

"I'm in number three." Percy pointed to a low gray building made of sea stone.

"You live with friends in the cabin?" Tyson asked.

"No. No, it's just us in our cabins." Obviously Percy didn't feel like explaining the embarrassing truth. We were the only ones who stayed in our cabins because neither of us were really supposed to be alive.

The "Big Three" gods—Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades—had made a pact after World War II not to have any more children with mortals. We were more powerful than regular half-bloods. We were too unpredictable. When we got mad we tended to cause problems...like World War II, for instance.

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