Sunburn- phoebus apollo

--iv. chariot racing doesn't go as planned (their luck sucks)

ALTHOUGH RHEA DIDN'T CARE MUCH FOR CHARIOT RACES, she understood why everyone else did. It's like with getting the best car in the mortal world, though she didn't care for that either. In her opinion, having a car that works is all that matters. There's no need to be spending thousands of dollars on luxury cars that function the same way. 

However, her opinion wasn't important but the slowly dying of Thalia's tree that kept the camp boarders in tact and is the only thing that is keeping the campers from becoming monster food is.

Tantalus didn't seem to agree.

The morning of the race was hot and humid. Fog lay low on the ground like sauna steam. Millions of birds were roosting in the trees--fat gray-and-white pigeons, except they didn't coo like regular pigeons. They made this annoying metallic screeching sound that reminded Rhea of submarine radar.

The racetrack had been built in a grassy field between the archery range and the woods Hephaestus's cabin had used the bronze bulls, which were completely tame since they'd had their heads smashed in, to plow an oval track in a matter of minutes. 

There were rows of stone steps for the spectators--Tantalus, the satyrs, a few dryads, and all of the campers who weren't participating. Mr. D didn't show. He never got up before ten o'clock.

"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams began to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke, his right hand chased a chocolate across the judge's table. "You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!" Tantalus smiled at the campers like they were all naughty children. "Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s'mores at the campfire for a week! Now ready your chariots!"

Beckendorf led the Hephaestus team onto the track. They had a sweet ride made of bronze and iron--even the horses, which were magical automatons like the Colchis bulls. Rhea had no doubt that their chariot had all kinds of mechanical traps and more fancy options than a fully loaded Maserati.

The Ares chariot was bloodred, and pulled by two grisly horse skeletons. Clarisse climbed aboard with a batch of javelins, spiked balls, caltrops, and a bunch of other nasty toys. 

Apollo's chariot was trim and graceful and completely gold, pulled by two beautiful palominos. Their fighter, Lee, was armed with a bow, and had promised Rhea that he wouldn't do too much harm. 

Hermes's chariot was green and kind of old-looking, as if it hadn't been out of the garage in years. It didn't look like anything special, but it was manned by the Stoll brothers, and Rhea shuddered to think what dirty tricks they had up their sleeves. 

That left two chariots: one driven by Annabeth, and the other by Percy.

Before the race began, Percy had gone up to approach Annabeth to tell her about his dream of Grover.

Rhea was left to double-check everything to make sure their chariot was in good shape. When her brother came back with a defeated look on his face, she knew the conversation didn't go well. 

She promised mentally to talk to him about it later when Tantalus called, "Charioteers! To your mark!"

Tyson was having trouble getting their horses under control. Rhea had to talk to them a long time before they would settle down.

He's a monster, m'lady! They complained to Rhea.

He's a child of Poseidon, Rhea told them. Just like... well, just like me.

No! They insisted. Monster! Horse-eater! Not trusted!

I'll give you sugar cubes at the end of the race, Rhea bargained.