Deadly Waters | Percy Jackson

5. a Goat, a Horse and a Spy

In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless he was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings. For a moment, Percy could've sworn that he caught a glance of someone – or something – in the corner of his eye, but there was nothing there when he turned.

Pez was incredibly relieved when Jackson dismissed her presence in favour for following Grover.

He could be annoying observant when he wanted to be.

Shaking his head, Percy looked down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl who'd spoon-fed Percy popcorn-flavoured pudding was leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing Percy was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels- what do you call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That's it. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he would've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except Percy got the feeling this guy could've out-gambled even his step-father.

"That's Mr. D," Grover murmured to the other boy. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron . . ."

He pointed at the guy whose back was to them.

First, Percy realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then he recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" Percy cried.

The Latin teacher turned and smiled at him. His eyes had that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple-choice answers B.

"Ah, good, Percy," he said. "Now we have four for pinochle."

He offered the boy a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at him with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Uh, thanks." Percy scooted a little farther away from him because, if there was one thing he had learned from living with Gabe, it was how to tell when an adult has been hitting the happy juice. If Mr. D was a stranger to alcohol, Pez had never played with fire.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl.

She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced her. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now."

Annabeth said, "Sure, Chiron."

She was probably his age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what Percy thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling grey, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analysing the best way to take him down in a fight.

She glanced at the minotaur horn in Percy's hands, then back at him. He imagined she was going to say, 'You killed a minotaur!' or 'Wow, you're so awesome!' or something like that.

Instead she said, "You drool when you sleep."

Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.