Chapter 51: Tour Of Camp Halfblood.
Once we got over the fact that our Latin teacher was a horse, we had a nice tour, through we were careful not to walk behind him. We'd done pooper-scooper patrol in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade a few times, and, I'm sorry, but we didn't trust Chiron's back end the way we trusted his front.
We passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to our black-white pendent necklaces we were wearing. Another said, "That's them."
Most of the campers were older than us. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. Percy wasn't normally shy, but the way they stared at him made him uncomfortable. He felt like they were expecting him to do a flip or something.
We looked back at the farmhouse. It was a lot bigger than we'd realized----four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, like an upscale seaside resort. We were checking out the brass eagle weather vane on top when something caught our eye, a shadow in the uppermost window of the attic gable.
Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and we got the distinct impression we were being watched.
"What's up there?" We asked Chiron.
He looked where we were pointing, and his smile faded.
"Just the attic."
"Somebody lives there?"
"No," he said with finality. "Not a single living thing."
We got the feeling he was being truthful. But we were Also sure something had moved that curtain.
"Come along, Percy, James," Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. "Lots to see."
We walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe.
Chiron told us the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus.
"Come, Percy. James. Let's see the woods."
As we got closer, we'd realized how huge the forest is. It took up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, you could imagine nobody had been in there since the Native Americans.
Chiron said, "The woods are stocked, if you both care to try your luck, but go armed."
"Stocked with what?" We asked. "Armed with what?"
"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you both have your own swords and shields?"
We took our pendent necklaces off and both of the pendents changes into swords. We got the sword cleared. But we still need shields.
We wanted to ask what kind of summer camp had an armory, but there was too much else to think about, so the tour continued. We saw the archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables (which Chiron didn't seem to like very much), the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheatre, and the arena where Chiron said they hold sword and spear fights.
"Sword and spear fights?" We asked.
"Cabin challenges and all that," he explained. "Not lethal. Usually. Oh yes, and there's the mess hall."
Chiron pointed to an outdoor pavilion framed in white Grecian columns on a hill overlooking the sea. There were a dozen stone picnic tables. No roof. No walls.
"What do you do when it rains?" We asked.
Chiron looked at us as if we'd gone a little weird.
"We still have to eat, don't we?" Both of us decided to drop the subject.
Finally, he showed us the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side.
And they were without a doubt the most bizarre collection of buildings we'd ever seen.
Except for the fact that each had a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right) they looked absolutely nothing alike.
Chapter 52: The Cabins
Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all faced a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops (which were more our speed).
In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined fire pit.
Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A girl about nine years old was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick. James looked at her and her name popped up in a message: Hestia goddess of the hearth.
The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin one was the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. It's polished bronze doors shimmered like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them. Cabin two was more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peacocks.
"Zeus and Hera?" We guessed.
"Correct," Chiron said.
"Their cabins look empty."
"Several of the cabins are. That's true. No one ever stays in one or two."
Okay. So each cabin had a different god, like a mascot.
Twelve cabins for the twelve Olympians. But why would some be empty?
We stopped in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three.
It wasn't high and mighty like cabin one, but long and low and solid. The outer walls were of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashell and coral, as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor.
Both of the Jackson boys peeked inside the open doorway and Chiron said, "Oh, I wouldn't do that!"
Before he could pull us back, we caught the salty scent of the interior, like the wind on the shore at Montauk. The interior walls glowed like abalone. There were six empty bunk beds with silk sheets turned down. But there was no sign anyone had ever slept there. The place felt so sad and lonely, we were glad when Chiron put his hand on both of our shoulders and said, "Come along, Percy. James."
Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers.
Number five was bright red-----a real nasty paint job, as if the color had been splashed on with buckets and fists.
The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar's head hung over the doorway, and it's eyes seemed to follow us. Inside we could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, both girls and boys, arm wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared. The loudest was a girl maybe thirteen or fourteen. She wore a size XXXL CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirt under a camouflage jacket. She zeroed in on us and gave us an evil sneer. She reminded us of Nancy Bobofit, though the camper girl was much bigger and tougher looking, and her hair was long and stringy, and brown instead of red.
"Oh, look," Annabeth is waiting for us."
The blond girl we'd met at the Big House was reading a book in front of the last cabin on the left, number eleven.
When we reached her, she looked percy over critically, like she was still thinking about how much he drooled.
Percy tried to see what she was reading, but he couldn't make out the title. Because the book was in Greek, there were pictures of temples and statues and different kinds of columns, like those in an architecture book.
"Annabeth," Chiron said, "I have masters' archery class at noon. Would you take Percy and James from here?"
"Yes, sir."
" Cabin eleven," Chiron told us, gesturing toward the doorway. "Make yourselves at home."