𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩

Chapter 16

9
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G.G.E.

  In a way, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force is really trying to mess up your day.

  So there they were, Annabeth and Grover and Cyrus and Percy and (y/n), walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind them, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in their noses.

  Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once."

  (y/n) was pretty much in shock himself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in his ears. But Annabeth kept pulling them along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better."

  "All our money was back there," Percy reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything."

  "Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight–"

  "What did you want me to do? Let you get killed?"

  "You didn't need to protect me, Percy. I would've been fine."

  "Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine."

  "Shut up, goat boy," said Annabeth.

  Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans ... a perfectly good bag of tin cans."

  They sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry.

  After a few minutes, Annabeth fell into line next to Percy. "Look, I..." Her voice faltered. "I appreciate you coming back for us, okay? That was really brave."

  "We're a team, right?"

  (y/n) sneezed shortly. He stepped closer to Benny in an attempt to collect warmth, rubbing his still damp arms.

  Cyrus looked down at the child of Persephone, taking off his jacket and putting it around the boy's shoulders. (y/n) flinched, squeaking in surprise, before he noticed Cyrus's jacket and flushed deeply.

  "I– uh– wh–" (y/n) deeply stuttered, confused.

  "Ye'r welcome," Cyrus mumbled shortly, averting his gaze to the side as if what he'd done had no consequences.

  "... Thanks," (y/n) nodded, blinking, "I guess."

  "Yeah, no–"

  Whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill toot-toot-toot, like the sound of an owl being tortured.

  "Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a “find path” song, we could get out of these woods!"

  He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff.

  Instead of finding a path, Percy immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-size knot on his head. (y/n) snickered at the very sight, Cyrus snorted at the sound.

  After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, they started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. (y/n) could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. He realized he hadn't eaten anything unhealthy since he'd arrived at Half-Blood Hill, where they'd lived on grapes, bread, cheese, and extra-lean-cut nymph-prepared barbecue. This boy needed a double cheeseburger.