The Lost Hero (14 page)

“Who’s the other kid in the photo?” he asked. “The sandy-haired guy.”

Annabeth’s expression tightened. Touchy subject.

“That’s Luke,” she said. “He’s dead now.”

Jason decided it was best not to ask more, but the way Annabeth said Luke’s name, he wondered if maybe Percy Jackson wasn’t the only boy Annabeth had ever liked.

He focused again on Thalia’s face. He kept thinking this photo of her was important. He was missing something.

Jason felt a strange sense of connection to this other child of Zeus—someone who might understand his confusion, maybe even answer some questions. But another voice inside him, an insistent whisper, said:
Dangerous. Stay away.

“How old is she now?” he asked.

“Hard to say. She was a tree for a while. Now she’s immortal.”

“What?”

His expression must’ve been pretty good, because Annabeth laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s not something all children of Zeus go through. It’s a long story, but … well, she was out of commission for a long time. If she’d aged regularly, she’d be in her twenties now, but she still looks the same as in that picture, like she’s about … well, about your age. Fifteen or sixteen?”

Something the she-wolf had said in his dream nagged at Jason. He found himself asking, “What’s her last name?”

Annabeth looked uneasy. “She didn’t use a last name, really. If she had to, she’d use her mom’s, but they didn’t get along. Thalia ran away when she was pretty young.”

Jason waited.

“Grace,” Annabeth said. “Thalia Grace.”

Jason’s fingers went numb. The picture fluttered to the floor.

“You okay?” Annabeth asked.

A shred of memory had ignited—maybe a tiny piece that Hera had forgotten to steal. Or maybe she’d left it there on purpose—just enough for him to remember that name, and know that digging up his past was terribly, terribly dangerous.

You should be dead,
Chiron had said. It wasn’t a comment about Jason beating the odds as a loner. Chiron knew something specific—something about Jason’s family.

The she-wolf ’s words in his dream finally made sense to him, her clever joke at his expense. He could imagine Lupa growling a wolfish laugh.

“What is it?” Annabeth pressed.

Jason couldn’t keep this to himself. It would kill him, and he had to get Annabeth’s help. If she knew Thalia, maybe she could advise him.

“You have to swear not to tell anyone else,” he said.

“Jason—”

“Swear it,” he urged. “Until I figure out what’s going on, what this all means—” He rubbed the burned tattoos on his forearm. “You have to keep a secret.”

Annabeth hesitated, but her curiosity won out. “All right. Until you tell me it’s okay, I won’t share what you say with anyone else. I swear on the River Styx.”

Thunder rumbled, even louder than usual for the cabin.
You are our saving Grace,
the wolf had snarled. Jason picked up the photo from the floor. “My last name is Grace,” he said. “This is my sister.” Annabeth turned pale. Jason could see her wrestling with dismay, disbelief, anger. She thought he was lying. His claim was impossible. And part of him felt the same way, but as soon as he spoke the words, he knew they were true.

Then the doors of the cabin burst open. Half a dozen campers spilled in, led by the bald guy from Iris, Butch. “Hurry!” he said, and Jason couldn’t tell if his expression was excitement or fear. “The dragon is back.”

P
IPER WOKE UP AND IMMEDIATELY GRABBED
a mirror. There were plenty of those in the Aphrodite cabin. She sat on her bunk, looked at her reflection and groaned.

She was
still
gorgeous.

Last night after the campfire, she’d tried everything. She messed up her hair, washed the makeup off her face, cried to make her eyes red. Nothing worked. Her hair popped back to perfection. The magic makeup reapplied itself. Her eyes refused to get puffy or bloodshot.

She would’ve changed clothes, but she had nothing to change into. The other Aphrodite campers offered her some (laughing behind her back, she was sure), but each outfit was even more fashionable and ridiculous than what she had on.

Now, after a horrible night’s sleep, still no change. Piper normally looked like a zombie in the morning, but her hair was styled like a supermodel’s and her skin was perfect. Even that horrible zit at the base of her nose, which she’d had for so many days she’d started to call it Bob, had disappeared.

She growled in frustration and raked her fingers through her hair. No use. The do just popped back into place. She looked like Cherokee Barbie.

From across the cabin, Drew called, “Oh, honey, it won’t go away.” Her voice dripped with false sympathy. “Mom’s blessing will last
at least
another day. Maybe a week if you’re lucky.”

Piper gritted her teeth. “A
week
?”

The other Aphrodite kids—about dozen girls and five guys—smirked and snickered at her discomfort. Piper knew she should play cool, not let them get under her skin. She’d dealt with shallow, popular kids plenty of times. But this was different. These were her brothers and sisters, even if she had
nothing
in common with them, and how Aphrodite had managed to have so many kids so close in age … Never mind. She didn’t want to know.

“Don’t worry, hon.” Drew blotted her fluorescent lipstick. “You’re thinking you don’t belong here? We couldn’t agree more. Isn’t that right,
Mitchell
?”

One of the guys flinched. “Um, yeah. Sure.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Drew took out her mascara and checked her lashes. Everyone else watched, not daring to speak. “So anyways, people, fifteen minutes until breakfast. The cabin’s not going to clean itself! And Mitchell, I think you’ve learned your lesson. Right, sweetie? So you’re on garbage patrol just for today, mm-kay? Show Piper how it’s done, ’cause I have a feeling she’ll have that job soon—
if
she survives her
quest
. Now, get to work, everybody! It’s my bathroom time!”

Everybody started rushing around, making beds and folding clothes, while Drew scooped up her makeup kit, hair dryer, and brush and marched into the bathroom.

Someone inside yelped, and a girl about eleven was kicked out, hastily wrapped in towels with shampoo still in her hair.

The door slammed shut, and the girl started to cry. A couple of older campers comforted her and wiped the bubbles out of her hair.

“Seriously?” Piper said to no one in particular. “You let Drew treat you like this?”

A few kids shot Piper nervous looks, like they might actually agree, but they said nothing.

The campers kept working, though Piper couldn’t see why the cabin needed much cleaning. It was a life-size dollhouse, with pink walls and white window trim. The lace curtains were pastel blue and green, which of course matched the sheets and feather comforters on all the beds.

The guys had one row of bunks separated by a curtain, but their section of the cabin was just as neat and orderly as the girls’. Something was
definitely
unnatural about that. Every camper had a wooden camp chest at the foot of their bunk with their name painted on it, and Piper guessed that the clothes in each chest were neatly folded and color coordinated. The only bit of individualism was how the campers decorated their private bunk spaces. Each had slightly different pictures tacked up of whatever celebrities they thought were hot. A few had personal photos, too, but most were actors or singers or whatever.

Piper hoped she might not see
The Poster
. It had been almost a year since the movie, and she thought by now surely everyone had torn down those old tattered advertisements and tacked up something newer. But no such luck. She spotted one on the wall by the storage closet, in the middle of a collage of famous heartthrobs.

The title was lurid red:
king of sparta
. Under that, the poster showed the leading man—a three-quarters shot of bare-chested bronze flesh, with ripped pectorals and six-pack abs. He was clad in only a Greek war kilt and a purple cape, sword in hand. He looked like he’d just been rubbed in oil, his short black hair gleaming and rivulets of sweat pouring off his rugged face, those dark sad eyes facing the camera as if to say,
I will kill your men and steal your women! Ha-ha!

It was the most ridiculous poster of all time. Piper and her dad had had a good laugh over it the first time they saw it. Then the movie made a bajillion dollars. The poster graphic popped up everywhere. Piper couldn’t get away from it at school, walking down the street, even online. It became
The Poster
, the most embarrassing thing in her life. And yeah, it was a picture of her dad.

She turned away so no one would think she was staring at it. Maybe when everyone went to breakfast she could tear it down and they wouldn’t notice.

She tried to look busy, but she didn’t have any extra clothes to fold. She straightened her bed, then realized the top blanket was the one Jason had wrapped around her shoulders last night. She picked it up and pressed it to her face. It smelled of wood smoke, but unfortunately not of Jason. He was the
only
person who’d been genuinely nice to her after the claiming, like he cared about how she felt, not just about her stupid new clothes. God, she’d wanted to kiss him, but he’d seemed so uncomfortable, almost scared of her. She couldn’t really blame him. She’d been glowing pink.

“’Scuse me,” said a voice by her feet. The garbage patrol guy, Mitchell, was crawling around on all fours, picking up chocolate wrappers and crumpled notes from under the bunk beds. Apparently the Aphrodite kids weren’t one hundred percent neat freaks after all.

She moved out of his way. “What’d you do to make Drew mad?”

He glanced over at the bathroom door to make sure it was still closed. “Last night, after you were claimed, I said you might not be so bad.”

It wasn’t much of a compliment, but Piper was stunned. An Aphrodite kid had actually stood up for her?

“Thanks,” she said.

Mitchell shrugged. “Yeah, well. See where it got me. But for what it’s worth, welcome to Cabin Ten.”

A girl with blond pigtails and braces raced up with a pile of clothes in her arms. She looked around furtively like she was delivering nuclear materials.

“I brought you these,” she whispered.

“Piper, meet Lacy,” Mitchell said, still crawling around on the floor.

“Hi,” Lacy said breathlessly. “You
can
change clothes. The blessing won’t stop you. This is just, you know, a backpack, some rations, ambrosia and nectar for emergencies, some jeans, a few extra shirts, and a warm jacket. The boots might be a little snug. But—well—we took up a collection. Good luck on your quest!”

Lacy dumped the things on the bed and started to hurry away, but Piper caught her arm. “Hold on. At least let me thank you! Why are you rushing off?”

Lacy looked like she might shake apart from nervousness. “Oh, well—”

“Drew might find out,” Mitchell explained.

“I might have to wear the shoes of shame!” Lacy gulped.

“The what?” Piper asked.

Lacy and Mitchell both pointed to a black shelf mounted in the corner of the room, like an altar. Displayed on it were a hideous pair of orthopedic nurse’s shoes, bright white with thick soles.

“I had to wear them for a week once,” Lacy whimpered. “They don’t go with
anything
!”

“And there’re worse punishments,” Mitchell warned. “Drew can charmspeak, see? Not many Aphrodite kids have that power; but if she tries hard enough, she can get you to do some pretty embarrassing things. Piper, you’re the first person I’ve seen in a long time who is able to resist her.”

“Charmspeak …” Piper remembered last night, the way the crowd at the campfire had swayed back and forth between Drew’s opinion and hers. “You mean, like, you could talk someone into doing things. Or … giving you things. Like a car?”

“Oh, don’t give Drew any ideas!” Lacy gasped.

“But yeah,” Mitchell said. “She could do that.”

“So that’s why she’s head counselor,” Piper said. “She convinced you all?”

Mitchell picked a nasty wad of gum from under Piper’s bed. “Nah, she inherited the post when Silena Beauregard died in the war. Drew was second oldest. Oldest camper automatically gets the post, unless somebody with more years or more completed quests wants to challenge, in which case there’s a duel, but that hardly ever happens. Anyway, we’ve been stuck with Drew in charge since August. She decided to make some, ah,
changes
in the way the cabin is run.”

“Yes, I did!” Suddenly Drew was there, leaning against the bunk. Lacy squeaked like a guinea pig and tried to run, but Drew put an arm out to stop her. She looked down at Mitchell. “I think you missed some trash, sweetie. You’d better make another pass.”

Piper glanced toward the bathroom and saw that Drew had dumped everything from the bathroom waste bin—some pretty
nasty
things—all over the floor.

Mitchell sat up on his haunches. He glared at Drew like he was about to attack (which Piper would’ve paid money to see), but finally he snapped, “Fine.”

Drew smiled. “See, Piper, hon, we’re a good cabin here. A good family! Silena Beauregard, though … you could take a warning from her. She was secretly passing information to Kronos in the Titan War, helping the
enemy
.”

Drew smiled all sweet and innocent, with her glittery pink makeup and her blow-dried hair lush and smelling like nutmeg. She looked like any popular teenage girl from any high school. But her eyes were as cold as steel. Piper got the feeling Drew was looking straight into her soul, pulling out her secrets.

Helping the enemy.

“Oh, none of the other cabins talk about it,” Drew confided. “They act like Silena Beauregard was a hero.”

“She sacrificed her life to make things right,” Mitchell grumbled. “She
was
a hero.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Drew said. “Another day on garbage patrol, Mitchell. But
anyways
, Silena lost track of what this cabin is about. We match up cute couples at camp! Then we break them apart and start over! It’s the best fun ever. We don’t have any business getting involved in other stuff like wars and quests.
I
certainly haven’t been on any quests. They’re a waste of time!”

Lacy raised her hand nervously. “But last night you said you wanted to go on a—”

Drew glared at her, and Lacy’s voice died.

“Most of all,” Drew continued, “we certainly don’t need our image tarnished by spies, do we,
Piper
?”

Piper tried to answer, but she couldn’t. There was no way Drew could know about her dreams or her dad’s kidnapping, was there?

“It’s too bad you won’t be around,” Drew sighed. “But if you survive your little quest, don’t worry, I’ll find
somebody
to match up with you. Maybe one of those gross Hephaestus guys. Or Clovis? He’s pretty repulsive.” Drew looked her over with a mix of pity and disgust. “Honestly, I didn’t think it was
possible
for Aphrodite to have an ugly child, but … who
was
your father? Was he some sort of mutant, or—”

“Tristan McLean,” Piper snapped.

As soon as she said it, she hated herself. She never,
ever
played the “famous dad” card. But Drew had driven her over the edge. “My dad’s Tristan McLean.”

The stunned silence was gratifying for a few seconds, but Piper felt ashamed of herself. Everybody turned and looked at
The Poster
, her dad flexing his muscles for the whole world to see.

“Oh my god!” half the girls screamed at once.

“Sweet!” a guy said. “The dude with the sword who killed that other dude in that movie?”

“He is
so
hot for an old guy,” a girl said, and then she blushed. “I mean I’m sorry. I know he’s your
dad
. That’s
so
weird!”

“It’s weird, all right,” Piper agreed.

“Do you think you could get me his autograph?” another girl asked.

Piper forced a smile. She couldn’t say,
If my dad survives
....

“Yeah, no problem,” she managed.

The girl squealed in excitement, and more kids surged forward, asking a dozen questions at once.

“Have you ever been on the set?”

“Do you live in a mansion?”

“Do you have lunch with movie stars?”

“Have you had your rite of passage?”

That one caught Piper off guard. “Rite of what?” she asked.

The girls and guys giggled and shoved each other around like this was an embarrassing topic.

“The rite of passage for an Aphrodite child,” one explained. “You get someone to fall in love with you. Then you break their heart. Dump them. Once you do that, you’ve proven yourself worthy of Aphrodite.”