Chapter 37

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Alina was strangely quiet during training.

Percy'd imagined that she would have returned to her usual self after the apology—after all, the pranks weren't that bad—but nothing changed. Or rather, nothing reverted. She was as silent as a mouse, not so much as grunting in satisfaction when she won her spar with Louisiana. And then there were her peeks.

Whenever the green-eyed demigod had inevitably looked away from the spar, he had perceived someone staring at him—exactly from where Alina had been standing. But when he glanced back, Alina was busy fighting with Lousiana. It unsettled him. But he couldn't exactly storm down there and yell at the recruit. The poor girl would probably burst into tears, shivering at the thought. I don't need another reason why the Ares cabin is after my head.

However, Percy must've looked really unsettled. A few hours later, while the recruits were taking a water break, Alina made her way through the maze of bleachers to his side. 

"What's up?" Percy tried asking nonchalantly, but failed. His panic leaked into his voice.

"Are you okay?" 

The question was simple, yet it had a substantial influence over Percy. He had to think: Was he really okay? The camp hated him, his father hated him, and the sea hated him. The only reason he hadn't gone insane was that the recruits stuck around—but that could change anytime due to calumnies. So . . .

"I'm just peachy," Percy said, pushing out a smile.

". . . You've never said 'peachy' before," Alina observed, cringing. 

"Er . . . I've been trying to . . . expand my vocabulary."

Alina gave him a look that said, You're fooling no one. 

"Do you need something from me?" Percy asked, trying to change the subject. 

It worked. "I think we should end early today," Alina blurted out. "You look like you need it."

"Me?!" Percy scoffed. "Why would I need a break . . . ?"

Alina started to respond, but fell quiet. She looked conflicted.

". . . In fact, you look like you need to rest," Percy finished, studying her complexion. "You look really pale. And you've been acting weird. Do you have a fever?"

"Of course not," Alina scoffed, a shard of her personality returning to her voice. "Something as measly as a fever would never stop me."

"That's good. I was just about to let you out of sparring early, but it doesn't seem like you need to . . ." Percy turned to face the arena field, where the other recruits were. They were done with their water break, and Nico was now attempting to spar with Serena. However, a grumpy Louisiana stood before them, begging the two demigods to talk to her as her sparring partner—Alina—was speaking with Percy.

Behind him, Alina paused. The gears seemed to turn in her head—and then an idea struck her. In a flash, she collapsed onto the bench with false despair. 

Clang! The hilt of her sheathed sword clanged against the metal bleacher. The sound produced was so loud that the demigods on the field could percieve it as well.

Alerted by the noise, Percy spun around. "What happened . . .?" When he found Alina's crumpled form, his eyes widened in shock, and he rushed to her side.

On the training field, Nico, Louisiana, and Serena dropped their weapons and raced to the stands. Their eyes were filled with worry as they ascended the steps."

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