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“You’re unclaimed,” Luke says. “So you stay with us — Hermes cabin.”
“Unclaimed,” I repeat, turning to inspect the surroundings. It is hilly land on all sides. A dense forest sprouts up in the east, thick trunks crowding close together and cloaking its depths in shadows despite the sun spilling onto the grounds. To the north, there is the Big House, as they apparently call it. It’s not very big, but I suppose it is bigger than any other building here. “Meaning you don’t know who my godly parent is?”
“Yup,” Luke says. He looks relieved. “At least you’re quicker on the uptake than others. Gods know how many newbies I’ve introduced to camp that took five days before they figure out that yeah, the Greek gods are real.”
“Well, it’s not the most believable of things,” I note.
“And being stalked across the country by a mythical siren is?” Luke says, quirking an eyebrow.
“Point taken.”
He chuckles, and points at one of the cabins. Though cabin is an understatement. It looks more like a temple of old, with pale walls and Ionic columns holding up a majestic red frieze, complete with the carving of an owl. “That’s the Athena cabin,” Luke says. He waves at a small, blonde girl. She looks about the same age as me, and when she spots Luke, she turns a furious red color that has nothing to do with the summer heat. I stifle a laugh. “That’s Annabeth.”
“Cute kid.”
“Yeah.” Luke looks fond, and it’s the softest expression I’ve seen on him yet. “Athena is the goddess of wisdom and warfare.”
“So her kids are super smart,” I guess.
“Never try to win a debate against an Athena kid,” Luke agrees.
“What’s that cabin?” I point another cabin. It’s very… pink.
“Aphrodite.”
As we stand there, a boy, lean and tall, emerges from the cabin. He has wind-swept dark hair, dark eyes and high cheekbones with a set of full, red lips. He’s one of the older campers I have seen yet. Maybe around fifteen. And sinfully gorgeous. “Holy crap,” I manage.
I’ve heard of this before, but I never believed it might happen to me. Honestly, I half-suspected it was just a myth.
But I think this is my gay awakening.
Luke gives me an amused look. “Yeah, that’s Tommy Turner. All Aphrodite kids have got good looks going for them.”
“All of them look like that?” I choke out.
“Nah,” Luke says. “Tommy is something else, even for an Aphrodite kid.”
In the distance, Tommy sweeps his gaze across the courtyard, and it hooks on me. Time stills. His eyes, though I cannot possibly see them clearly from such a distance, pull me in. His gaze is heavy, and the world falls silent around me. I feel a buzz growing in my ears. A headache builds, dull and aching at first, then into a crescendo, a sharp, piercing wail that sends me to my knees.
Snap.
The storm in my head comes to an abrupt halt and the silence is, somehow, the loudest sound yet. I blink slowly. I take Tommy—Tom—in. “Aphrodite?” I blurt, and my voice carries across the courtyard. He hears it clearly, I’m sure, because his face twists and he gets this brief look of slack-jawed horror before he composes himself again.
Tommy — oh my gods, his name is Tommy Turner — stalks over, practically running toward me. “You,” he hisses when he is close enough.
“Seriously, the only thing more ironic would be Thanatos.”
He does not appreciate this, I don’t think. “What are you, then?”
“No clue,” I say truthfully. “I just got here today, duh.”
Tom gives me the filthiest look he can manage, which is quite something. After all, he is a former Dark Lord who has killed hundreds of people. “I doubt we have the same divine parent, by the look of you,” he says scathingly. “What is that hair? And those clothes, you make me weep.”
“This is so fucking rich,” I say, disbelieving. “My hair? My clothes? You really are a son of Aphrodite.”
“Hold on,” Luke interrupts. “You two know each other?”
“No,” we say simultaneously, then resume glaring at each other.
“You sound just like Malfoy, the pompous twit,” I inform Tom.
“I can’t believe we have to be neighbours,” Tom says, despairing.
“Well, you can always leave,” I say sweetly.
“And get eaten?” Tom scoffs. “You do it, why don’t you, I was here first.”
“Oh, that’s a real mature argument, Tom, I was here first. I heard better from my cousin and he had the brain of a dead fish.”
“No surprise there, given that you two are related.”
“At least my family tree isn’t identical on both sides,” I mock.
Tom makes a noise like an angry cat. “We agreed,” he says, jabbing a finger at me. “No potshots at parents.”
I scowl. “Fine, that one’s retracted.”
“How about this? We can be civil. Have you ever heard of that? We can be mature adults about this and simply despise each other from a distance.”
“I can’t believe this is coming from you.”
“I haven’t a clue what you mean. I’ve always been civil.” He pauses. “The first time doesn’t count.”
“You’ve still tried to kill me, like, fifty times since!”
“You threw a knife at me,” Tom snaps.
“It was one knife, one time, and that is nothing compared to the time you tried to set my house on fire, you arsehole—”
“You were fine,” Tom says, as though I’m being overdramatic about it.
“I was in the house,” I hiss. My fingers twitch. I imagine wrapping my hands around his neck and wringing the life from him.
“Well, it’s not like I knew—”
“That’s it!” Luke nudges his way in between us, separating us. “Alright, guys. Look, I don’t know what kind of story you’ve got going on, and it sounds like, uh, a lot. But Tommy, I have to give Harry the tour. So maybe you guys can catch up later?”
“Tommy,” I snicker, as Tom says, “I would sooner die than ‘catch up’ with that little beast.”
“Oh-kay,” Luke says, glancing between us. “Uh, Harry, why don’t I show you Hermes cabin where you’ll be staying? And Tommy, your cabin looks like it could use some help with cleaning up for the inspection.”
“Sure, Luke,” Tom says, all sweet and smiling as though he was not at one point a red-eyed noseless snake-human hybrid monster. He leaves, but not before giving me a poisonous glare. I beam back and flip him off for good measure.
I turn back to Luke. He says, “What the hell was that?”
“Okay, so we do know each other,” I concede.
“Yeah, I could never have guessed,” Luke says, rolling his eyes. He glances at Tom’s retreating figure as he slopes into his cabin. “Never seen him like that before. He’s usually so sweet. Good kid, could never hurt a fly.”
I stare. Could never hurt a fly, I mouth incredulously. Then I break down into laughter. Or tears. Maybe both. I’m not sure, but either way, Luke looks somewhat displeased by my reaction.
I can’t bring myself to care because — well, Tom Marvolo fucking Riddle, the boy who could never hurt a fly. If that isn’t the most hilarious joke I have heard in my lifetimes, all twenty of them put together.