𝙂𝙀𝙏 𝙃𝙄𝙈 𝘽𝘼𝘾𝙆! | 𝙖 𝙥𝙟𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮

prologue

"Sometimes." Her father admitted, trying to validate her feelings as best he could. The horizon in front of them lit up as a bolt of lighting appeared, and the man adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, trying not to knuckle it too tightly. "But that's not why I'm taking you to this place. I'm taking you here because... because they know how to take better care of you than I do." It was a humiliating thing to admit. That he, the renowned doctor and surgeon, didn't understand all of this. He'd traveled all over the world, instructed countless students, and more importantly, sat at the kitchen table and walked his little girl through the problems on her math homework. But this one thing, he couldn't grasp. All he could do was trust his gut, trust that he was making the right choice.

"At this camp.. They'll... they'll explain it better once you're there. Better than I can."

"Just trust me kiddo. I know that... this is something I can't do." He then quietly added, "This is what your mom wanted for you."
Cleo's brow furrowed at that defense of his decision. Her mother? Who she'd never met? Why did he care what she wanted, when she'd had no part in raising her? He was her dad. He was the one who should be making the choices. She trusted him. "But is it what you want for me?"

The question caught him off guard. His hesitation probably spoke volumes, but he was really thinking about his daughter's question. What he wanted was to get to raise her, to hate her first crappy boyfriend, to be there for her first heartbreak, to watch her walk across the stage at graduation. But even with as little as he understood, he knew that that was selfish. If he kept her around so he could have those things, he wouldn't end up getting any of them. Because she would be in danger.

"Yes. It is what I want."

The girl didn't say anything else for the rest of the car ride.

Cleo's orange t-shirt had to be two sizes too big. The grumpy man at the entrance to the camp had claimed it was the only size they had left, but she had a feeling he just didn't want to go looking for a shirt that actually did fit her. His welcome speech hadn't been too enthusiastic after all.

Thankfully, she wasn't too worried about the shirt. No, she was more focused on the fact she'd been dropped off at a place called Camp Half-Blood, which sounded like a derogatory name one of the preppy girls at school might have called her. Something told her it didn't mean what she thought it did

She should have been pondering the fact that everyone here seemed to be part of a bizarre cult that believed in people that weren't real. Instead, she couldn't stop replaying her last interaction with her dad.

He'd told her he couldn't go any closer than the edge of the treeline. That she'd have to walk up by herself. That hurt. He said it was because parents weren't allowed inside, but she had a feeling he'd just said it because he didn't want to have to walk her up. That seeing where she was going might make him change his mind— or that it might end in her seeing him cry. That had only happened once before, and it had been when he was crying about her mom. They both acted like it had never happened.

Cleo wished she hadn't been so cold when she left. She'd hugged him, but it hadn't been a real hug. But she had been angry, angry with him for doing this to her, angry that he wasn't brave enough to handle things on his own. She wasn't angry with him anymore though. She just missed him. Because now that she'd seen this camp, well, she knew that there was no way her dad would have brought her here if he'd had any idea what it was actually like.

After getting an introduction from the rude man in the ugly Hawaiian shirt, she'd been led to her cabin by a girl who disappeared after informing her she would be sleeping on the floor. Great. No further instruction after that. She just told her that Chiron, whoever that was, would explain more at dinner.

So, just to be petty, Cleo sat down on the wooden floor of the cabin, and stared at the wall, refusing to move. She got a spot on the floor? Well, then she was going to stay on the damn floor. It took about an hour of sitting in silence before the cabin started to clear out, and people stopped staring at her. Getting bored, her commitment to the mysterious-new-kid bit began to waver, and she looked over at one of the people still in the cabin, a boy about her age with dark hair, who had a sleeping bag on the floor next to her.

"Are you crazy too?" She asked him abruptly, her tone dead serious. She'd never been an ADHD kid in the traditional can't-sit-still sense. No, hers manifested in moments like this, when she spoke without thinking. It wasn't that she was rude, she was just... impulsive.

"What?" The boy looked a little bit hurt at first. Then he looked Cleo over, and his expression changed to one of understanding. His voice softened, "Oh. You're new, aren't you?"

"Yeah..." Cleo eventually said reluctantly, as if it might be risky to disclose too much to this boy. "You didn't answer my question."

"No, I'm not crazy. I've only been here a few months." He told her, pausing and adding, "But you're going to think I am. That we all are. At least until you adjust."

"Adjust?"

The boy hesitated, "Like I said... I'm new. I probably shouldn't be the one explaining this to you. I still don't understand everything."

"Well so far you're the only person who's explained anything, so..." Cleo tilted her head, trying to egg him on into saying a little bit more. It worked.

"Chiron will explain it better to you. He must be teaching archery but... just trust me, it'll make sense. It's gonna sound ridiculous at first but it'll explain a lot. Weird stuff probably happens to you, all the time. You got labeled as a troubled kid. Saw stuff other people didn't. Got raised by a single parent. This place... it tells you why."

She was a little taken aback, and shifted in her seat. He didn't get to the whole 'Yeah, the reason is actually the Greek Gods. Yeah, like the cartoon guy with the flaming head in Hercules. It's all because of them' spiel, but she had a feeling he was avoiding that so that she didn't call him crazy again. Or something worse. Still, it was weird that he just knew all of that. It was pretty obvious they were all 'troubled' kids, but all the other details put together? It was just a little bit too specific to be a coincidence. "So am I supposed to think you're like a psychic then?"
He laughed, "Not a psychic. Just someone who gets it." He played with the zipper of his sleeping bag nervously, "You know, you're probably gonna be in this cabin for a while now. I live here too. I could at least know your n-"
"Cleo. My name is Cleo." She cut him off. He didn't seem half bad. If she was going to be stuck with a bunch of crazy people, she might as well make friends with one of the nice ones, right? "And you are?"

"Luke." A mischievous grin spread across his face. "I'm Luke."