Chapter 3 We Have Dinner with Wormzilla #3
Clarisse followed my gaze. For a moment, her sour look wavered.
I realized that she’d gone to bed without wondering or caring whether Grant and I would make it back from our Wild Zone excursion.
She had no idea what had happened to Grant.
Both of us could have been eaten by a drakon, and Clarisse would’ve been happily snoring away to the soothing thrash metal of Hate Faction.
“Wow,” I said. “Way to look after your campers.”
She grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise it and marched me out to the front porch. “Why isn’t Grant with you?” she demanded. “What happened?”
I wanted to call her a heartless harpy, or maybe something worse, but my worry about Grant took precedence.
I gave her the highlights: the kalamodonta, the drakon, the shrieker in the tree, the child-eating lady.
One thing I held back: how we’d found that strange ring in the fissure.
My instincts told me that Clarisse would confiscate the ring if she knew about it, probably to keep it for herself, and I didn’t like that idea.
She didn’t deserve a reward for putting us through torture.
Finally, I told her how we’d gotten caught by harpies and assigned to kitchen patrol.
Her brow furrowed. “For your sake, I hope you didn’t mention anything about me.”
I yanked my arm out of her grip. “That’s your big concern? Nobody ratted you out! And in other news, Grant is missing!”
“Because you abandoned your cabinmate!”
I clenched my hands and breathed slowly through my nostrils. I was getting real sick of being treated like a screwup. I didn’t need anyone else reminding me how badly I’d failed.
“If he’s not here,” I said evenly, “we have to go back and find him.”
Her expression hardened. “No. No way. The whole point of hazing is to test a newbie’s skills. I’m sure he’s fine. Grant was the capable one.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“He’ll make it back eventually. And if he doesn’t”—she blew a puff of air—“well, he wasn’t much of a child of Ares, was he?”
My mouth fell open. “Are you serious right now?”
Clarisse crossed her arms. “Look, Kim, demigods die. All the time. But if it makes you feel better, I’m sure Grant is fine. Maybe he just decided camp wasn’t for him and took off. That happens.”
I lowered my voice and leaned toward Clarisse. “That doesn’t sound like Grant at all, and you know it.” There was a dangerous rumble in my words. “If you hadn’t—”
“If I hadn’t what, newbie?” she asked.
Anger spread through my limbs, tightening my muscles like coiled springs. Clarisse raised an eyebrow as if she could feel it too, but she didn’t seem the least bit worried. More like she was thinking Okay, let’s see what you got, punk.
If you hadn’t hazed us, I wanted to scream, he’d be here now.
If you hadn’t treated us like less-worthy younger siblings, he’d be here now.
Instead, I bit the inside of my cheek, taking out my anger on myself. “Nothing.”
“That’s what I thought.” Clarisse pressed one finger against my hangul pendant. “And if you say anything to anyone about Grant, or the Wild Zone, or why you were out in the woods last night…”
I waited for the rest of her threat. I figured it would be I will rip out your tonsils or the old standard I will kill you. Instead, she surprised me. “You’ll bring shame on all of us. On this family.” She gestured at the open door of the cabin. “Is that what you want?”
My right eye twitched. She sounded like my mom. I could have objected in a million ways. This cabin wasn’t a family. It was a food chain of bullies. And maybe it deserved a little shame. But I didn’t have the energy to fight with Clarisse, or (I’ll admit it) the courage.
“No,” I muttered. “I don’t want that.”
“Good,” Clarisse said. “Now, go get showered. You smell like a vulture’s nest. Then try to get some sleep. Keep your mouth shut and let me worry about Grant.”
In my mind, that meant nobody was going to be worried about Grant, but I just nodded glumly.
Once I’d showered off the grunge and mud and sweat, I dug my pajamas out of the duffel bag I’d hastily packed before fleeing my house.
I held the nightshirt close. It smelled so familiar—pine, vanilla-scented detergent, and the faintest whiff of beansprout soup.
For a moment, I considered leaving this miserable cabin and running all the way home.
But I had to be here. There was nothing left for me back there.
So I struggled into my pajamas, slipped the sapphire-and-silver ring into the chest pocket, and wriggled under the scratchy red blanket on my bunk.
I stared at the ceiling, the ring heavy against my sternum, but not as heavy as Grant’s absence.
Clarisse was wrong. He wouldn’t just run away. If he wasn’t back by dawn, I’d find out what happened to him myself. Grant was the closest thing I had to family next to Mom and Olivia.
Mom and Olivia.
Thinking about them made my heart ache. Despite how much we fought, all I wanted was to be with them on our couch right now, listening to Mom sing karaoke terribly while Olivia and I fought over the songbook and who would get to sing next. It didn’t matter. We were all terrible.
I smiled to myself and wiped away a tear.
I needed to get my act together if I ever hoped to see them again.
“No mistakes,” I whispered to myself. “Only successes.”
My mom always said that, and from now on, I was going to live by it.