Chapter 17 I Get Stolled
I Get Stolled
As we made our way to the Big House, I offered Harper a little of Olympia’s special lavender-ambrosia mask to rub on his lip, figuring the ambrosia might stop the bleeding. Instead, it just turned the wound a garish orange.
“Did it help?” Harper asked.
“Yeah, much better,” I lied.
Harper shook his head. “I’m such a loser.”
“Hey, Mr. Gorgeous and Popular, even demigods are allowed to have an off day every now and then.”
He frowned and then winced from the pain. “I haven’t even found out anything useful yet today. I tried charmspeaking a dryad, but the biggest secret she could tell me was that sometimes the satyrs have pizzas delivered to a hollow tree outside the south border of camp.”
“I mean, I suppose that’s good to know. Which do they prefer, Domino’s or Pizza Hut?”
“Please don’t make me smile,” Harper said. “It hurts too much.”
The Big House’s porch was still empty. So were the living room and the front office. Whatever Argus was doing to gather more information on the Wild Zone, he wasn’t doing it anywhere I could spy on him, which I found inconsiderate.
The infirmary took up the back half of the first floor. A row of beds, divided by curtains, faced a wide back porch, so you could lie under the gentle breeze of the ceiling fans and enjoy a beautiful view of Long Island Sound while you suffered from whatever ailed you.
Thankfully, there was only one patient in the ward.
My old buddy Elam had somehow managed to sit on a prickly pear cactus and was now having spines removed from his backside.
It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.
I just felt bad for young Will Solace, who was doing the extractions while the Apollo counselor Lee Fletcher supervised.
The only other Apollo kid on healing duty was our very own Wild Omada member, Zuri. She was pacing back and forth in front of the supply table like she was about to crawl out of her skin.
Then she saw Harper, and her eyes widened. She hurried over and took his other arm. “What happened to you?”
Before he could answer, I said, “A camper was trapped under a boulder, and Harper rescued her!”
Zuri snorted. “By lifting it with his lip?”
Harper rolled his eyes. “I twipped and fell on a wock.”
His injured lip had started to swell alarmingly, which I hoped wasn’t because of Olympia’s facial formula.
“Lie down,” Zuri ordered. “I’ll be right back.”
As I got Harper settled, Zuri headed to a storage cabinet and returned a moment later with an ice pack and something that looked like a juice pouch made from Celestial bronze foil.
“Put this on your lip for the swelling,” she said, handing Harper the ice pack. “And sip some nectar.” She poked a bronze straw into the juice pouch and tossed him that, too.
He fumbled to catch it.
“You should be fine in no time.” Zuri glanced at the clock on the wall, the way I used to do in third-period English class, willing time to move faster. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my shift is almost over.”
“You okay?” I asked her. “You seem…”
I wasn’t sure how to finish that thought: anxious, nervous, ants in pants?
“Yep.” She turned away. “Hey, Lee, Will, I’m leaving early. No more patients.”
Will looked up from his work and smiled at Lee. “She’s out of patience. Get it? She meant patients like the people, and I meant patience like the virtue!”
Lee did not look amused. “Hee-hee. Ha-ha. Keep working, Will.”
As Will pulled out another spine, his patient Elam yelped. “Can you be gentler?”
“Oh, sorry,” Will said, not sounding sorry. “Next time, maybe don’t pick a fight with a prickly pear dryad.”
Lee Fletcher marched over to join us at Harper’s bedside. He studied Harper and then Zuri. “What happened to him?”
“Cut his lip open on a rock,” Zuri said. “I gave him an ice pack and some nectar. Now if you don’t mind—”
Lee shouldered past her and inspected the wound. “Why is his mouth orange?”
I cleared my throat. “Oh, that’s my fault. We tried a lavender-and-ambrosia paste first, on the way over. It made a fun color.”
Will looked back at Zuri. “So you gave him nectar on top of the ambrosia he already had? Did you ask him why his lip was orange, or if he’d taken anything before he arrived?”
Zuri cringed. “No?”
Harper stopped in the middle of slurping his juice pouch. “Should I spit this out?”
Lee smiled politely and held out a trash can. “I would. Unless you enjoy spontaneous combustion.”
Harper spit into the trash can. “That’s too bad. It tasted like my favorite Philly cheesesteak.”
I shuddered at the thought of cheesesteak juice, but I supposed it wasn’t any worse than Sunkist-flavored rice tea. At least the swelling on Harper’s lip had faded.
Zuri put her hand on Harper’s arm. “I am so sorry! Are you feeling okay?”
He accepted a glass of water Lee gave him and nodded. “I’m fine. Besides, spontaneous combustion wouldn’t be the most embarrassing thing to happen to me this morning.”
Lee gave Zuri a stern look. “I know healing isn’t your favorite thing about the Apollo cabin. You want to get back to combat training. Fine. But every camper deserves our undivided attention.”
Zuri ducked her head. “You’re right. It’s just—”
“No,” Lee said. “No exceptions, Zuri. We give every injury the same quality of care.”
Zuri furrowed her brow. “Okay, but it’s just a busted lip. He’s fine.”
“He might not have been,” Lee said, “if you let him drink too much nectar and he burst into flames.”
Ouch.
Harper and I exchanged nervous glances.
“You’re right,” Zuri said again. Her eyes flashed like knife blades. Her skin started to glow. “I don’t belong here. I’m only good for hunting, not healing.”
Lee rested a hand on Zuri’s bare arm. I could feel the heat she was radiating from across the hospital bed, but it didn’t seem to bother Lee.
“You belong in here, too,” he said. “Healing is a major part of being a child of Apollo. Everyone counts on us to make them all better, and I’d like to think we do. ”
Zuri shrugged his hand away. “That’s great for you, but some people aren’t healers. And some people can’t be healed!”
She stormed out of the infirmary.
Harper and I shared another look. My keen deductive senses told me that Zuri had been upset about something more than just having to work in the infirmary for a couple of hours.
“Sorry about that,” said Lee. “Zuri’s a good person, but…” He faltered, apparently not sure what to add. “Anyway, Harper, you’re welcome to stay until you feel better.”
“Actually, I’m good.” Harper set the ice pack on a table and tried for a smile. The swelling had faded. The cut had healed into a thin white scar. His mouth was still orange, like he’d been gorging on Cheetos, but otherwise he looked okay. “Thank you for the help.”
We left Lee and Will to finish pulling cactus spines out of Elam’s posterior and hurried out of the Big House, hoping to catch Zuri. But she was nowhere in sight.
“She’ll be okay, right?” Harper asked.
“Sure,” I said.
Neither of us sounded very convinced, but we parted ways, promising to catch up later. Harper continued on toward the cabins—no doubt to wash off all the orange ambrosia stains—and I headed toward the armory to get in a little practice with my scythe.
On the way, I passed Shane, just coming back from the climbing wall.
“Hey, is Harper all right?” he asked.
“Totally.” I gave him a thumbs-up and kept walking. Harper would kill me if I shared any details that made him seem less than glamorous in front of Shane.
When I got to the armory, I tried out Olympia’s Celestial bronzer on the scythe. To my surprise, it worked pretty well. The blade took on the golden luster I’d seen on other kids’ magic weapons, making it look ancient and menacing rather than just old and beat-up.
When Nyssa Barrera came by, she gave the scythe a curious look but agreed to go a few rounds of combat practice with me.
Even after a half hour of sparring, the scythe still held its Celestial bronze sheen.
Olympia might not have known how to conjugate simple verbs, but she definitely knew her chemistry.
There was still no Zuri at lunch, but I decided not to worry just yet.
A lot of people were off doing other things.
Elam remained in the infirmary, either too sore or too embarrassed to show his face after the prickly pear incident.
Half of the Hermes cabin, including Benny, was down at the camp store, getting ready for their Fifty-Percent Friday sale.
Even Argus was absent, which I hoped meant he was personally delivering his request for help to Mount Olympus.
The only midday announcement came from Hobart, his satyr assistant, who reminded everybody that today was write-home day for those who had family out in the mortal world.
Most of the campers seemed to take this news in stride.
My cabinmates looked like they couldn’t wait to leave the table and write home about Elam’s cactus problem, or about me, the hopeless new kid who lost them the footrace. It was nice to feel loved.
After Clarisse dismissed us, I headed to the camp store for postcards and stamps.
My throat tightened at the thought of sending notes that Mom and Olivia wouldn’t see, since of course, they weren’t home, but the only people who knew they were missing were…
well, missing. And I was all about keeping up appearances.
The camp store was literally a pop-up. On one side of Cabin Eleven, the Hermes campers had designed a porch that could be lifted on hinges and pulleys and then unfolded into rows of shelves and clothes racks full of merch. The contraption was like some kind of capitalist Transformer.
The Stoll brothers were circulating among their customers with Benny in tow.
Travis stood on one side of a camper, offering suggestions on types of magical bug repellent, while Connor stood on the camper’s other side, nodding and smiling.
Then he slipped his right hand into the camper’s back pocket.
“Hey!” I said.
All of them turned to face me.
Connor waved with his right hand, which was empty. “Hey, Katie!”
“What can we help you with?” Travis asked.
The camper wandered away to do more browsing. Connor and Travis each put an arm around me and led me toward the register.
“Let’s talk over here,” Connor said. “Your voice carries.”
“Like a majestic foghorn,” Travis said with a polite smile.
I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Are you seriously picking your customers’ pockets?”
“Perish the thought! We’re simply teaching young Benjamin here a valuable skill.” Travis gestured to Benny, who sauntered over, rolling his eyes.
“They’re teaching me to reverse-pickpocket,” he said.
I squinted at Connor. “So you just put something in that kid’s pocket?”
“Don’t feel left out,” he said. “I put something in yours, too!”
“You…” I whirled around and patted the back pocket of my shorts. Sure enough, there was something coin-shaped inside. I pulled it out and inspected it.
The coin looked like something they’d made in the forge by melting down old aluminum foil. One side had been stamped with the words you’ve been stolled! The other said good for a free smile.
I couldn’t help smiling at it myself.
“So you’re not stealing from your customers,” I said.
Connor gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. “That would be unlawful, madam! Besides, at the prices we’re charging, we don’t need to steal.”
Benny crossed his arms. “Although it’s strange how the process of reverse-pickpocketing works almost the same as regular pickpocketing.”
Travis dropped his jaw. “Does it?!?”
“We only use our powers for good!” Connor added.
“And it is a little funny,” Travis said.
I fought back a smirk, but Benny regarded them with definite lack of amusement.
Travis sighed. “Look, we know we’re not exactly what people consider ‘authority figures,’ but someone had to step up for the Hermes cabin after Luke betrayed us.”
“Who’s Luke?” I asked.
“Their old counselor,” Benny said. “He turned out to be a spy for Kronos.”
I felt like a Stolled coin was stuck in my throat. “You had a counselor who was a spy?”
Travis nodded grimly. “He tried to kill Percy Jackson. Then he escaped camp and took a lot of other campers with him.”
“And now,” Connor said, “everybody looks at the Hermes cabin like we can’t be trusted! Can you imagine?”
“Inconceivable,” I agreed. “But I mean, that’s over now, right? All the Titan-friendly demigods probably left with Luke.”
“You never know.” Connor leaned close. “Many people think there are still spies among us right now.”
He and Travis glanced at Benny.
“Now if you’ll excuse us,” said Travis, “we have customers to fleece—er, assist.”
As they resumed their rounds, Benny slumped against the register and rubbed his eyes. “I gotta get out of this cabin.”
I waved a dismissive hand. “They don’t seriously think you’re a spy.”
“I can’t even tell anymore,” he said. “I mean, they’re nice enough in their own way, but I’m definitely not ‘Hermes enough’ for them.
And I’m tired of being treated like a science experiment while they try to figure out my parentage.
” He shook his head, looking about as miserable as I’d ever seen him.
“I need to find out who my godly parent is soon, so I can fit in somewhere.”
A customer approached him with a question about a pair of sunglasses (guaranteed Medusa-proof!), and Benny turned his attention to them, but as I browsed halfheartedly through a carousel of postcards, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he had said.
He wanted to fit in.
This charming farm boy, who was probably president of the 4-H club back home, felt like he didn’t belong. It had never crossed my mind that he might feel that way. Even though he was unclaimed, he was always surrounded by other people, always part of any conversation.
I wanted to tell him he’d always fit in with me, but I couldn’t promise that.
I couldn’t even promise I’d make it through the fall.