Chapter 4 I Narrowly Avoid Human Sacrifice （and Also Bagpipes） #2
I, on the other hand, had been born stateside to a Korean woman and a Greek god who rode a motorcycle with an it’s fight o’clock somewhere bumper sticker.
I could recognize the Korean alphabet but only knew how to say hello and thank you.
Ancient Greek, though, I could have an entire conversation in.
Demigod brains were apparently hardwired for that.
Unfortunately, without a lot of ancient Greeks around, it had proven to be kind of a pointless skill.
Meanwhile, Olivia got the lion’s share of Mom’s praise for being an all-star Korean.
I looked at my goblet and sighed. “Hyeonmi-cha, please.”
The goblet gurgled and filled with a cloudy, foamy, orangish-brown liquid. Definitely not hyeonmi-cha. On my first try, I had managed to short-circuit my magic cup.
“Eww! What is that?” Cootie Boy curled his lip as he looked at my drink.
I grimaced. “I asked for rice tea, but—”
“Never order rice tea, anyone!” He raised his voice and pointed at me, laughing.
“Elam!” Clarisse barked, and he instantly quieted. “We attack creatures, not cultures. Apologize to Katie.”
“Sorry, Katie,” Elam said, glowering at his goblet.
Nice of Clarisse to stick up for my culture. If only she hadn’t also ordered Elam to fire a bow at me the night before….
Everyone was watching us, so I forced a smile. “It’s fine.”
To prove it, I picked up the goblet and drank. It tasted like musty oranges. Maybe the goblet had sensed my conflict and tried to give me Sunkist-flavored hyeonmi-cha. Somehow, I didn’t think this new beverage was going to catch on.
Thankfully, before I had to drink any more, nymphs arrived with trays of scrambled eggs, fruit salad, buttered toast, and pancakes. While everyone was busy serving themselves, I quietly dumped out the rest of my drink and asked the goblet for water. It was boring but better.
To say I devoured my breakfast would be an understatement. With all that running through the Wild Zone the night before, I’d worked up an appetite.
I was just stuffing in the last bit of pancake when a satyr at the head table blew an unnecessarily loud conch horn.
“Ow,” I said, rubbing my ears.
At my first opportunity, I was going to buy that satyr something less abrasive to get everyone’s attention—like a triangle or kazoo.
All the campers fell silent. We turned toward the head table as a large man got to his feet. He wore a standard-issue orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, khaki shorts, and flip-flops, and with his tan skin, blond hair, and muscular build, he reminded me of a Venice Beach weightlifter.
Except he was almost seven feet tall. That was my first clue he might not be human.
My second clue? Covering his arms and legs were blue and white circles that reminded me of the glass pendants I’d seen last night in the woods.
At first I thought they were tattoos. Then several of them blinked.
I realized they were actual eyes—dozens of them covering every visible part of the giant’s body.
Did he have eyes even where you couldn’t see?
Like on the bottoms of his feet? Or…You know what? Never mind. Forget I asked.
The satyr handed the giant a clipboard.
They sure loved clipboards at this camp.
As the giant looked over his notes, I scanned the other satyrs at the head table. Silas wasn’t among them, which bummed me out. I hadn’t seen him since he’d handed me and Grant off to Clarisse the night before. I really wanted to see his friendly face. I’d bet anything he’d help me find Grant.
“Well, then!” The giant looked up from his clipboard and smiled. “Good morning, everyone!”
He spread his arms in a gesture of welcome.
Unfortunately, his satyr assistant wasn’t paying attention.
He had his head down and was nervously chewing on a pencil, so when the giant threw his arms back, he accidentally walloped the satyr.
I was surprised that, even with all those eyes, the giant hadn’t seen him.
“Mehhh!” the satyr bleated. He stumbled around, the clipboard now impaled on his right horn, so he looked like he was wearing a graduation hat.
At Camp Half-Blood, we got breakfast and a show.
The giant ignored the clipboard mishap.
“First, I’d like to welcome our five newcomers to Camp Half-Blood!” he announced. He clapped, and some of the campers halfheartedly joined in.
At the end of our table, Clarisse was frowning. “I’ve never heard Argus talk this much,” she muttered.
“I didn’t even know he could talk,” said Elam.
Clarisse glared at him. “Maybe he only opens his mouth when he absolutely has to. You could learn from that.”
I smiled, trying to ignore the twisting in my gut. The giant had welcomed five of us. Only four of us were here.
A few Hermes kids pounded their fists on the table and took up a chant: “KP! KP!”
Great. Word of our curfew violation must have gotten around. I just hoped nobody knew the details. If entering the Wild Zone really was a go-home no-no, my morning activity might be packing my bags.
“All right, all right,” the giant told the chanters. “Enough of that. I seem to remember some of you getting KP when you were newbies.”
The Hermes campers snickered and elbowed one another.
The giant caught my gaze and smiled. For all I knew, he was simultaneously catching the gaze of Harper, Benny, and Zuri, since he had plenty of eyes to spare.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t welcome you last night,” he said.
“But things have been”—blue eyes twitched all over his body—“a little hectic. I’m Argus, Camp Half-Blood’s head of security, and for the next few months, your temporary camp director.
Normally, Chiron and Dionysus would be here to greet you…
.” He paused. “Well, Chiron would greet you, anyway.”
A girl at our table snorted. “And Mr. D would try to trick the newbies into bringing him wine.”
Argus frowned at her, and the girl shut up. Apparently, the giant had good hearing as well as extra eyes.
“As I was saying,” he continued, “due to…recent events, Chiron and Dionysus are up on Mount Olympus doing ‘professional development training.’ ” For some reason, he framed the words in air quotes.
“And now, for today’s activities…” Argus retrieved the clipboard from the satyr’s horn and began to read aloud.
“ ‘Recent events,’ ” Elam muttered. “Prissy Jackson’s the one who needs training.”
That boy’s name seemed to come up a lot. Though I was pretty sure it was Percy.
Against my better judgment, I whispered to Elam, “What’s he so famous for, anyway?”
“He went on a quest to find Zeus’s missing master bolt.” Elam curled his lip. “And made giant messes across the country trying to get it back.”
My eyes went wide. “Who took Zeus’s lightning bolt? Wouldn’t that cause a huge war among the gods?”
Everyone within whispering distance turned to stare at me. Their message was clear.
I squirmed. “Oh. It was our dad.”
It figured Ares would want to start a war in his own family.
“Now everybody thinks Percy’s a hero,” Elam said with a bitter frown. “When really, he screwed up everything. The Titans are stirring. Demigods are leaving camp to join Kronos’s rebellion. Meanwhile, everyone looks at us like we’re thieves.”
My pancakes suddenly felt like lead in my belly.
I knew about the Titans. They’d ruled the world before the gods overthrew them.
Now they were trying to stage a comeback.
If open war broke out between the gods and Titans, it would make nuclear Armageddon look like a Sunday picnic, and demigods would be caught in the middle.
On top of all that, I was an Ares kid. I was walking into this camp already branded a criminal.
Clarisse must have read my expression.
“Be grateful you’re here,” she said. “The only reason we increased off-season admissions is because we’re losing demigods faster than we can recruit them. Why do you think all five of you newbies got picked up at the same time? We need warm bodies. Cannon fodder.”
“You give great pep talks,” I grumbled.
Clarisse smirked. “Now everyone shut up before we get in trouble!” She pointed toward Argus, who was just finishing his spiel.
“Finally, a toast!” Argus held his goblet aloft, and we all did the same. “To…” He faltered, scowling at a satyr who had just run into the pavilion with a set of bagpipes. “Woodrow!”
The rest of us looked at one another in confusion. “To Woodrow!” we mumbled.
“Is it his birthday?” someone asked.
“No, no, no! We’re not toasting Woodrow,” Argus clarified. “I meant…Woodrow, I asked you to bring me the bag of pipes from the amphitheater! The panpipes! We need them for the music class!”
Woodrow the satyr blushed. “Oh, I thought bagpipes was a strange request. But as long as I have them, does anyone want to hear ‘The Itsy-Bitsy Satyr’?”
Several hands shot up, mostly at the Apollo table.
Argus pulled on his hair. “No! We’re not doing ‘Itsy-Bitsy Satyr.’ We’re toasting the gods. Then everyone goes to their first activity!” He raised his goblet again. “To the gods!”
“To the gods!” We all chorused and drank. Then everyone left their tables in a much less orderly fashion than they’d arrived.
I watched campers dump their trays at the busing station: food waste in one bin, cutlery in another, cups and plates in another.
Most were pretty sloppy about it. I’d probably been just as careless the night before, but now that I was part of kitchen patrol, I had a new understanding of how piglike people were.
I couldn’t wait to clean up after them….