The Moon's Shine (PJO)

Chapter 19

The event Nico was referring to was Capture the Flag. It was scheduledfor every Friday night

However, this wasn't one's average middle school game.

The rules were simple: protect your flag while trying to capture the other team's flag. It was played in the woods at night. Whichever team crossed the halfway point—River Zeus—with the opponent's flag won the game.

Oh, and everyone had weapons. (To Percy's horror, maiming was still only frowned upon, not punishable.)

Despite this, the game was very popular at camp. Everyone had lots of fun. (Y'know, except the losing team. Oh, and the people who were maimed.)

"Are you kidding me?!"

Except for Percy Jackson.

In shock, the demigod looked at the battle plans scattered across the northern dining pavilion tables. In disbelief, he looked up at the head planner—Malcolm Pace, son of Athena—then back at the plans.

And then back to Malcolm.

"Why am I on defense?!" Percy exclaimed. He pointed to the list of roles. At the bottom, in bold letters read: PERCY JACKSON: HEAD OF DEFENSE.

"Shh," Malcolm warned, then pointed to the south of the dining pavilion, where the red team was preparing strategy. "We don't want them to hear anything."

Percy gripped the blue crest of his helmet but lowered his voice. "I work well with Nico. Why is he leading the central offense when I'm babysitting a bunch of disinterested demigods?"

"They're not disinterested . . ." 

Percy merely pointed to the Aphrodite table. It was chock-full of demigods gossiping with each other while putting on makeup and fixing their hair—while most of the boys and some of the girls had their heads down, sleeping. 

All of their battle gear was pushed to the side as if it was infected. 

"You know they all can't be unconcerned," Malcolm protested.

"Well, yeah—but it doesn't seem like I have the full Aphrodite cabin on defense," Percy challenged, jabbing a finger at the list of titles.

The assignment right above his was: PIPER MCLEAN-RIGHT FLANK.

The son of Athena hesitated.

"You know I'm right, Malcolm," Percy insisted. "With this lineup, we are definitely going to be blasted into space."

"Why do you care so much?" Malcolm asked tiredly. "It's just a game."

"It is not just a game. This event only comes once a month—and the results are permanently recorded. The reputation of our mothers and fathers is on the line." Percy lowered his voice, growing serious. "Look around. Do you really want to lose to the Ares, Apollo, and Hephaestus cabins without a fight? Even with one, it'll be too ambitious to think we have the advantage. Our only chance to win is with Athena cabin's strategy. So let me ask you this: why don't you care?"

Malcolm mulled over his words for a minute. Finally, he sighed. "I didn't suggest any part of this plan."

Percy looked at him in shock for what seemed like the hundredth time in the hour. "What?! But you're the head planner . . ."

"Similar to yours, my title is just a title . . ."

What does he mean by 'similar to mine'? Percy wondered.

"Chiron wanted me to give most of the responsibility of planning to the younger generation of Athena demigods so they can get a feel of what they'll have to do in the future."

"And . . . ?" Percy prompted.

"And they've made a dumpster fire of a strategy," the demigod said drily. "If these are the warriors that will lead us in the future . . . well, I'm not sure they're going to have anything to lead for long."

Percy frowned, disconcerted by his prediction. He quickly focused back on the matter at hand, though. "You're still the supervisor, right? Why don't you fix the plan?"

"There's not enough time." Malcolm checked his watch. "The game will start in ten minutes."

"Well, that's enough time to extinguish a portion of the dumpster fire. Anything will help—like taking me off of the defense," Percy suggested hopefully.

"I can't do that."

"Why not? Within five minutes I'll be jumping all over the place and making a racket. I'm not made for defense."

"My younger siblings put all the big legends in teams that would try to capture the opponent's flag. They probably concluded that they were the strongest demigods."

There was a long, awkward pause as Malcolm shot an expectant look toward the son of the sea.

He's going to make me say it, isn't he? Percy thought as he glared at Malcolm.

"Okay. Fine. Look—I'm not usually this kind of person . . ." Percy closed his eyes in disgust. "But I'm also a "legend" right?"

There was a pause. "Not after you abandoned the camp."

"I did not abandon camp!"

"Really? Then what do you call 'leaving camp without telling anyone for more than two months'?"

"Er . . . making room for the younger generation?" Percy tried.

"The game starts in two minutes. I better make sure the kids don't change anything else." Malcolm prepared to walk away.

Percy grabbed his forearm. "Malcolm, please. If you must know, I made a . . . deal with Nico. I need to be with him."

Malcolm yanked his arm out of Percy's grip. "It is beyond my control. Whatever your deal is, I'm sure Nico will understand your situation." He patted Percy's shoulder. "Now, stop burdening yourself with this. We need you in tip-top shape to win."

"You don't understand!" Percy yelled at Malcolm's retreating back. "I can't be on defense!"

Malcolm froze but didn't turn around. "I think you have more pressing problems than me grasping your plight." 

Confused, Percy looked around as Malcolm continued away. And then his heart started beating frantically.

His yell had attracted the attention of more than just Malcolm.

In fact, it had stopped all of the conversations in the pavilion. There was silence as hundreds of demigods stared at him—some in shock, and some in murderous glee.

It was clear: everybody had heard his assignment.

A few yards in front of him, Clarisse, daughter of Ares mouthed to him, You're dead.