Poseidon's Daughter

Chapter 36

Rhea POV

I sat down at table three, but no one sat with me, so I went over to the Hermes table and sat down next to Luke.

"You aren't really supposed to sit here," he said to me.

"Well, what happened to 'cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors'?" I asked him. I want to make a good impression on him, with the way things are going, I'm going to go on a quest soon and I don't want to change the storyline to the point that I don't know what's going to happen. I don't remember everything from the books, but hopefully enough to get through this life without dying too soon.

"Good point," he said and continued talking about how training was going to be like.

"Hey, Luke?" I said.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"What kind of shorts do clouds wear?" I ask, smirking.

"I don't know," he said unsure.

"Thunderwear," I replied smoothly.

He slaps his thigh, shaking his head. "No, just no."

"What? It's funny. It made you sort of laugh."

Annabeth sat at table six with a bunch of serious-looking athletic kids, all with her grey eyes and honey-blond hair. Dad doesn't like Athena, they have some sort of rivalry going on.

Clarisse sat behind me at Ares's table. She'd apparently gotten over being hosed down, because she was laughing and belching right alongside her friends.

Finally, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent. He raised a glass. "To the gods!"

Everybody else raised their glasses. "To the gods!"

Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and yes, barbecue!

My glass was empty, but Luke said, "Speak to it. Whatever you want—non-alcoholic, of course."

I said, "Blue Fanta grape."

And it appeared, just like that. I had a big smile on my face. Why can't dad do this? I should probably ask him if he can first before making assumptions.

"Here you go, Rhea," Luke said, handing me a platter of smoked brisket.

I loaded my plate and was about to take a big bite when I noticed everybody getting up, carrying their plates toward the fire in the center of the pavilion. Oh yeah, burnt offerings. We had a bonfire at our university before spring break and I threw my hotdog in for dad once. He liked it apparently. I found it really weird.

"Come on," Luke told me.

As I got closer, I saw that everyone was taking a portion of their meal and dropping it into the fire, the ripest strawberry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest, most buttery roll.

Luke murmured in my ear, "Burnt offerings for the gods. They like the smell."

"You're kidding."

His look warned me not to take this lightly, but I couldn't help wondering why an immortal, all-powerful being would like the smell of burning food.

Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red grapes. "Hermes."

I was next.

Thanks dad for helping me today.

I scraped a big slice of brisket into the flames for him.

When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals, Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention.

Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels."

A bunch of ugly cheering rose from the Ares table.

"Personally," Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Riley Johnson."

Chiron murmured something.

"Er, Rhea Jackson," Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on."