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Drew Tanaka has a carefully curated persona. She keeps her fellow campers at a distance to the point of being malicious, and she leads the Aphrodite cabin with an iron fist, even if it means none of her siblings like her. She talks about potential partners and dates them for a day before moving on to the next one which has many calling her names when they think she can’t hear. She has a rigorous beauty routine that is associated with being an airhead and vane. But Drew doesn’t care about the image she shows to the world. As long as she keeps her inner self protected.
So what if she doesn’t have any friends? So what if nobody wants to pair up with her for daily activities? That they only do so out of fear or when she charmspeaks them? It’s embarrassing, really, having to force people to be her partner when everybody else already has their own automatic, built-in friend.
Nobody talks to her at dinner time when her siblings are all squished around their table. They’re too busy discussing the day’s events with their little groups of friends that Drew’s not a part of. They only come to her when they want a particularly juicy piece of gossip. It’s just like the group of girls she hangs out with at school. She learned this quickly enough and always has something to tell both of them when they ask.
Drew never wanted to be cabin counsellor. How was she supposed to fill the shoes Silena left? Silena, who was kind and caring and talked to Drew despite everything she said to Silena’s face and behind her back, hoping Silena would just leave her alone. The only person Drew would ever consider even close to a friend, and Silena definitely didn’t see their relationship the same way. Then she went ahead and got herself killed. Drew supposes it’s karma: you never know you’ve got something until it’s gone. She hadn’t realized Silena was handing olive branch after olive branch to her until after she died, and Drew began missing her incessant attempts at making conversation. And that’s something Drew has to live with. That’s the price to pay for keeping everyone at an arm’s length.
But, still, it hurts. If only Silena had stayed in her lane, kept to her boyfriend and her friends, and not turned to the other side. Maybe she would still be alive, and maybe Drew would allow Silena to see past her cold exterior. Maybe they could have been friends. Actual friends. Maybe, maybe, maybe. So many maybes. But that’s not how it is. Silena is dead. That’s something Drew knows: keep to what you know works or face the consequences.
And that means being a different kind of counsellor to her cabin. She’s not Silena—could never come close—so she sticks to what she knows. Keeps to the harsh punishments and rigid rules she knows from home. She knows to keep her mouth shut at home. Knows to be well groomed. Knows to have the best manners whenever her dad brings over another woman, hoping to fill the Aphrodite-shaped hole in his heart. Knows to ask him sweetly for money, food, and more clothes whenever her dad thinks the new woman is the One. Knows to make herself scarce when the relationship eventually doesn’t work out. Being strict works. Punishments when you disobey the rules works. They keep everyone in line.
Another thing Drew knows: Cabin Ten’s reputation as romance-crazy. It’s all anyone seems to see along with their vanity and ditziness. So Drew partakes in dating like the rest of her cabin mates. Talks about potential partners. About relationships and brings back Aphrodite's Rite of Passage.
So what if she never feels anything for the people she dates? The boys and girls come and go, and Drew feels nothing—before, during, and after the relationship. She should. She knows she should. But something’s broken in her; she just can’t. How is she a child of Aphrodite, the goddess of love, who can’t feel love?
She can appreciate someone’s looks. That’s something entirely different. Enjoys seeing a guy with a handsome, pleasing face; a girl with the prettiest hair. She’s not immune to beauty. So what if she never wants to go further than the occasional kiss? She can get through it because that’s how relationships are supposed to go, but she never feels the need to go more intimate. Her myriad of partners claim she’s cold and unfeeling, a tease. Drew doesn’t mind. She doesn’t even like dating all that much. But she doesn’t tell her mother or her fellow cabin mates that. Whatever she does or does not feel means nothing when she’s in the Aphrodite Cabin. If she’s broken, Drew just has to keep it under wraps. She’s supposed to date, she’s supposed to kiss, she’s supposed to break hearts. And so that’s what she does. Those are how things go; the rules to life. You date, eventually find the One, settle down, have babies, happily ever after.
Drew does like clothes and make-up and skincare, she has to admit. That’s one of Cabin Ten’s stereotypes that she does fall under. It doesn’t matter though. It’s satisfying to look in the mirror and like what you see; she was never confident in her skin when she was younger. When she was just that kid with the weird-smelling lunch food, with the second-hand clothes and classic East Asian, young girl, bob haircut with bangs. Nobody remembers that kid anymore at her school. All they see is Drew how she wants them to see her.
At school, she has a group of girls she associates with and ignores the fact that they have a group chat without her, have sleepovers without her, hang out after school without her. As long as she has “friends” at school, an automatic group to work with for group projects, and people to eat lunch with, she couldn’t care less that they’re having fun while actively excluding her.
What she wears on her body and her face is on her. She can control everything she wants about it. Shoes don’t match the ghastly orange camp t-shirt? She can just wear something else that fits better. The eyeliner is a little too sharp for the vibes that day? Wipe it off and start again. Wake up with bedhead? Brush and curl it until it looks effortlessly beautiful. She can experiment endlessly with outfit combos and makeup looks and hairstyles until Drew feels comfortable in her skin.
People treat her differently when she looks good. They either respect or fear her, and Drew likes either or. Her dad’s girlfriends all treat her with the occasional gifts or compliments, rather than shoo her out the door when they’re over or see her as baggage from a past, failed relationship. Her schoolmates fear her, rather than mock her behind her back with an accent she and her dad don’t have. Her dad taught himself not to have. Those at Camp Half-Blood don’t know the awkward child she was, and Drew wants to keep it that way.
She doesn’t care what others think. She plans to keep everything the way it is.
~~~
Everything falls apart when Piper McLean and Jason Grace arrive to camp. When Piper is claimed, Drew suddenly has trouble keeping her cabin in line. That’s not how it’s supposed to be. They’re supposed to be afraid to break the rules, supposed to keep their heads down. They aren’t supposed to talk back or challenge her.
Piper especially infuriates Drew. She has a textbook not-like-other-girls complex and seems to look down on her fellow siblings purely because of who their mother is. As if Piper’s mom isn’t Aphrodite too. As if she’s better than the rest of them because she doesn’t wear makeup. Does Piper ever wonder why some of them put on makeup? Because it’s fun, or freeing, or a physical armour they put on in the morning? Why they might act the way they do? No, because Piper only sees their outside shell. Only sees their mother. Only sees Drew for what she shows to the world.
And Drew’s not one to make it known that she does care for her cabin and those within it. Her siblings might hate her, but they’re still siblings. Drew knows Mitchell has frequent night terrors about the car crash that killed his dad, knows Valentina gets migraines when a scent is too strong, knows Lacy can’t sleep without her duck stuffed animal her dad gave her before being deployed. Drew listens and watches. When her cabin mates are talking when she’s not in the room, Drew listens. Even if what they say about her might hurt. When her siblings don’t think she’s paying attention, Drew is. Because that’s how she’s learned to survive home- and school-life.
She doesn’t like anyone knowing she cares. It’s a weakness to show it. But she makes sure to turn a blind eye to the pile of chocolatey snacks under Mitchell’s bed that he eats when he wakes in the middle of the night, makes sure to confiscate any smelly candles for fire hazards and intense perfumes for no reason at all, makes sure to wrestle Lacy’s ducky from whichever Hermes cabin member stole it and places it back in her bunk before evening without anyone knowing it was gone.
Does Piper do any of that? Does she know her own siblings as Drew does? Piper only cares about being unique and not being like the other Aphrodite kids. And yet Piper instantly makes friends. Instantly slots into a nice friend group within the Aphrodite Cabin and outside of it. She has that Leo kid, Lacy, and Mitchell. She has other people go up to talk to her because they want to, not because they have to or are forced into it.
Piper has Jason too. And Drew can’t stop looking away from him. He’s classically beautiful; the type of face the Greeks would carve into marble. Strong jawline, straight nose, symmetrical face. He could be the male version of Galatea: a perfect statue brought to life.
And, despite the looks Jason gives Piper and she returns, there’s something wrong with their relationship. Despite their seeming devotion to one another, there’s a tinge of fakeness to it. Drew can’t put her finger on it. Maybe it’s her observation skills, maybe it’s the fact that she’s a child of Aphrodite. She doesn’t exactly know.
But Piper and Jason’s relationship feels different from Annabeth and Percy’s. Annabeth and Percy are a good couple. A great couple, even. Drew can’t deny that, even though she hates to admit it. And it’s not because Annabeth and Percy have been together for longer; that’s not the reason why.
She tries getting Jason alone because talking to Piper alone would be impossible. Over and over, she pokes and prods and flirts, seeing if Drew can figure out the mystery of Piper and Jason. And, over and over, Drew finds Jason pretty oblivious to romance. He wouldn’t know flirting if it hit him over the head. And he seems to have great reflexes.
It’s nice, actually. Talking to someone who doesn’t want to date her or have preconceived notions about her. She stops trying to flirt with him once she realizes there’s no point. There’s no fun in flirting if the guy you’re flirting with is more interested in talking about what it means to be a good person, how childhood deeply affects the adult, and how one can fit in and not fit in simultaneously. Some of his philosophical questions hit a little too close to home, but Drew feels almost normal around him—not broken. But of course he’s dating Piper McLean who bans Drew from speaking to him when she gets back from her stupid quest and takes the head counsellor position from her. Taking the role as if she actually cares about Aphrodite’s children. As if she didn’t take the role only to steal it from Drew.
But fine. Sure. Drew didn’t want to be head counsellor in the first place. She doesn’t care.
She doesn’t care that she’s alone and friendless. Doesn’t care that everyone hates her. Doesn’t care that she’s broken. Doesn’t care what anybody thinks of her. Because if there’s one thing Drew Tanaka knows above all else: it’s that the only person you can rely on is yourself.