𐌙/𐌍 Ᏽ𐌵𐌀𐌋𐌄 & 𐌕𐋅𐌄 Ᏽ𐌐𐌄𐌀𐌕 𐌌𐌙𐌕𐋅𐌔 ¹

Chapter 21

21 | Traitor
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We were the first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Luke, so of course everybody treated us as if we'd won some reality-TV contest. According to camp tradition, we wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in our honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where we got to burn the burial shrouds our cabins had made for us in our absence.

Annabeth's shroud was so beautiful–gray silk with embroidered owls–I told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched me and told me to shut up.

Being the son of Poseidon, Percy didn't have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make his shroud. They'd taken an old bedsheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed-out eyes around the border, and the word LOSER painted really big in the middle.

It was fun to see it burn.

Apollo's cabin had surprisingly made me a shroud, taking Ares's cabin chance before they could volunteer. The shroud was actually pretty good. It had a black bear paw printed in the middle of a white stamp and a golden laurel wreath (Because if Apollo was something, was narcissistic, and of course his children would put something that would scream “Apollo”) and the rest were all shiny and mostly clear colors with random patterns that the kids with synesthesia said was what my voice or my smell looked like.

I was sad that I had to throw into the flames. I really wanted to keep it, as a thropy, or a reminder that I had a family whenever I felt like coming to camp.

As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out s'mores, I was surrounded by my old Hermes cabinmates, Annabeth's friends from Athena, my cousins from Apollo cabin, and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand-new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past."

The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her cabinmates, whose poisonous looks told me they'd never forgive me for disgracing their dad.

That was completely fine by me.

Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brats didn't get themselves killed and now they'll have even bigger heads. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be no canoe races this Saturday...."

I moved back into cabin eight with all the free space that now didn't feel as lonely anymore, like I filled it with good memories from family time. I had my friends to train with during the day. At night, I laid awake and watched the moon, knowing whenever I was in need, my mother would make sure to help out in any way she can. I made her a promise, and I pretend to keep it.

As for Percy's mother, she had a chance at a new life. Her letter arrived a week after we got back to camp. She dold that Gabe had left mysteriously–disappeared off the face of the planet, in fact. She'd reported him missing to the police, but she had a funny feeling they would never find him.

On a completely unrelated subject, she'd sold her first life-size concrete sculpture, entitled The Poker Player, to a collector, through an art gallery in Soho. She'd gotten so much money for it, she'd put a deposit down on a new apartment and made a payment on her first semester's tuition at NYU. The Soho gallery was clamoring for more of her work, which they called "a huge step forward in super-ugly neorealism."

But don't worry, his mom wrote. I'm done with sculpture. I've disposed of that box of tools you left me. It's time for me to turn to writing.

At the bottom, she wrote a P.S.: Percy, I've found a good pri-vate school here in the city. I've put a deposit down to hold you a spot, in case you want to enroll for seventh grade. You could live at home. And your little friend is more than welcome whenever he needs a place to stay. But if you want to go year-round at Half-Blood Hill, I'll understand.