Chapter 14

Finally, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and

everybody fell silent. He raised a glass. “To the gods!”

Everybody else raised their glasses. “To the gods!”

Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples,

strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and yes, barbecue! My glass was empty, but Luke

said, “Speak to it. Whatever you want—

nonalcoholic, of course.”

I said, “Cherry Coke.”

The glass filled with sparkling caramel liquid.

Then I had an idea. “ Blue Cherry Coke.”

The soda turned a violent shade of cobalt.

I took a cautious sip. Perfect.

I drank a toast to my mother.

She’s not gone, I told myself. Not permanently, anyway. She’s in the

Underworld. And if that’s a real place, then someday...

“Here you go, Percy,” Luke said, handing me a platter of smoked brisket.

I loaded my plate and was about to take a big bite when I noticed everybody

getting up, carrying their plates toward the fire in the center of the pavilion. I

wondered if they were going for dessert or something.

“Come on,” Luke told me.

As I got closer, I saw that everyone was taking a portion of their meal and

dropping it into the fire, the ripest strawberry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest,

most buttery roll.

Luke murmured in my ear, “Burnt offerings for the gods. They like the smell.”

“You’re kidding.”

His look warned me not to take this lightly, but I couldn’t help wondering why

an immortal, all-powerful being would like the smell of burning food.

Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red

grapes. “Hermes.”

I was next.

I wished I knew what god’s name to say.

Finally, I made a silent plea. Whoever you are, tell me. Please.

I scraped a big slice of brisket into the flames.

When I caught a whiff of the smoke, I didn’t gag.

It smelled nothing like burning food. It smelled of hot chocolate and fresh-

baked brownies, hamburgers on the grill and wildflowers, and a hundred other good

things that shouldn’t have gone well together, but did. I could almost believe the

gods could live off that smoke.

When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals,

Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention.

Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. “Yes, I suppose I’d better say hello to all you

brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is

Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels.”

A bunch of ugly cheering rose from the Ares table.

“Personally,” Mr. D continued, “I couldn’t care less, but congratulations. Also,

I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Peter Johnson.”

Chiron murmured something.

“Er, Percy Jackson,” Mr. D corrected. “That’s right. Hurrah, and all that. Now

run along to your silly campfire. Go on.”

Everybody cheered. We all headed down toward the amphitheater, where

Apollo’s cabin led a sing-along. We sang camp songs about the gods and ate s’mores

and joked around, and the funny thing was, I didn’t feel that anyone was staring at

me anymore. I felt that I was home.

Later in the evening, when the sparks from the campfire were curling into a

starry sky, the conch horn blew again, and we all filed back to our cabins. I didn’t

realize how exhausted I was until I collapsed on my borrowed sleeping bag.

My fingers curled around the Minotaur’s horn. I thought about my mom, but I

had good thoughts: her smile, the bedtime stories she would read me when I was a

kid, the way she would tell me not to let the bedbugs bite.

When I closed my eyes, I fell asleep instantly.

That was my first day at Camp Half-Blood.

I wish I’d known how briefly I would get to enjoy my new home.

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