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***
Drew watches, dread gnawing at her gut, as a woman she can only describe as absolutely beautiful walks to them over the grass.
The rest of the campers have stopped listening to whatever Chiron is saying, probably cause of the absolutely beautiful woman approaching them. The only campers not looking are Clovis, who’s dozing off on his feet, and Clarisse, who’s looking at Drew in concern.
“Chiron,” the woman says sweetly, bending to place a kiss on the centaur’s left cheek, then his right. There’s something hostile about the way she says his name.
Chiron seems to shrink in his wheelchair. “Lady Aphrodite,” he says quietly. That gets a few gasps from the campers. He raises his hand to dismiss them, but Aphrodite cuts him off before he can.
“No need. Just dropping by.”
Chiron puts his hand back in his lap. “To what do we owe the pleasure, my Lady?” Chiron sounds anything but pleased.
“I’d like to take one of your counsellors off your hands.” A murmur runs through the crowd and Drew closes her eyes. Clarisse takes her hand and squeezes. Drew squeezes back. “It’s just for the day; you won’t miss her.” A pause. “Besides, you always seem to have replacements.”
Drew opens her eyes, surprised. Chiron seems to have shrunk even further into the wheelchair. He looks as if he’s been slapped across the face; probably the goddess’s intention. The silence that follows is loud, and Chiron clearing his throat does nothing to ease the tension. “Please feel free to do so, Lady Aphrodite.”
“Thank you sweetheart,” she says with a smile. She turns to Drew, who squeezes Clarisse’s hand even harder. “Let’s go honey.”
***
“This,” Aphrodite holds up a halter top, “or,” she holds up a tube top, “this?” Drew regards them in silence. “Definitely this,” Aphrodite says, putting the tube top back on the rack, “it flatters your neck and shoulders more. Now for the—“
“Please stop,” Drew says silently.
“Hm?”
“Stop,” she repeats, gesturing at Aphrodite’s appearance. She’s blond, hair cropped short, with blue eyes and a lot of muscle. The t-shirt, jeans, and combat boots aren’t helping. “It’s weird.”
“Oh,” Aphrodite says, sounding genuinely apologetic. And then suddenly, she has long black hair and dark eyes. Drew doesn’t know where the hoop earrings, the pink tee, or the extra height came from, but they look good. “Pink looks good on all of us dear,” Aphrodite says with a nod. “… better?”
Looking at an older version of herself isn’t as weird as looking at not-quite-Clarisse, but Drew wouldn’t call it better. She shrugs. Aphrodite nods, turning back to the rack. Drew gets the feeling her mom won’t say much of anything until she engages.
“That one’s nice,” Drew says when Aphrodite picks a pink crop top from the rack. ‘DOLLFACE’, it reads on the front in glitter. Aphrodite hums approvingly and places it in the basket on her arm. When did she get a basket? Drew sighs. The more she asks, the more confused she’ll get.
“You’re a counsellor now,” Aphrodite says airily.
Drew tenses. “Yeah.”
“Because Silena is gone,” she adds. The ease with which she says those words makes Drew’s temper flare. She wants to snap. And she’s about to until she sees the tightness around Aphrodite’s eyes and the way she purses her lips as she looks through the clothes.
Drew deflates. “… Yeah.”
Aphrodite nods curtly. The next thing she picks out is a bolero. They both shake their heads and Aphrodite puts it back. At the back of her mind, Drew wonders why her mum asked when she clearly already knows about it. Aphrodite leads her to the next rack and starts looking through the selection. Drew reaches for a baggy pair of jeans. The faded blue is beautiful, and they look like something Drew could actually move around in. They both nod.
“Dionysus is an idiot,” Aphrodite says without preamble as she puts the jeans in the basket, “and a drunk. A drunk idiot.” She laughs, but it’s humourless and just a bit mean. “That’s what the exile is for, but someone—” she glares at the ceiling, and Drew is impressed that there’s no sound of thunder, “—doesn’t care that it’s punishing the kids more than it is Dio.”
The next thing Drew holds up is a pastel pink pencil skirt. It’s unbelievably cute, and Aphrodite pauses to appreciate it. It’s not something Drew would wear around camp, but she has a life outside of the place. They nod appreciatively and it goes into the basket.
“And Chiron…” Aphrodite scoffs, “he thinks trauma makes better heroes. He’s aeons out of touch.” She sighs. “He didn’t learn after Heracles. He won’t learn now. But I’m not here to make excuses for either of them.”
“Thank gods,” Drew says under her breath.
Aphrodite laughs. Her smile looks a lot like something Drew would see if she looked in the mirror, and that isn’t as weird as it had been a few minutes ago. “You could always thank me by name,” Aphrodite says with a shrug. And then her face gets serious again. “It’s unfair that they made you counsellor the way they did. No guidance, no easing you into it. Chiron probably told you to ‘follow in her footsteps’.”
“He did,” Drew confirms drily.
Now they’re looking at jackets. Drew’s eyes land on one of the leather ones. As she looks at it, she recalls the day after all the shrouds had been burnt. Chiron had called her to the big house. She turned up in her pyjamas. ‘Cabin Ten needs a counsellor’, he’d said. And when she had looked at him blankly, he’d told her that being counsellor was as simple as following Silena’s example for the most part. For the most part. Drew didn’t leave the cabin for a week after that, and she would have stayed even longer if it hadn’t been for Clarisse and Nyssa.
“Putting you in someone else’s shoes—no regard for size—and telling you to sprint is the only ‘fair’ Chiron knows. But you aren’t Silena,” Aphrodite tilts her head at the leather jacket. Drew sniffles as she puts it in the basket. A hand comes up to hold Drew’s. “You aren’t Silena,” she repeats, “and you can’t become Silena. Those shoes aren’t for you.”
Drew can’t hold back her tears anymore. She cries, and as she does, she tells her mum about everything she feels. The burden of people looking to her to become Silena. The disappointment when they remember Drew isn’t her. The fear that she’ll never live up to anyone’s expectations. The expectation that the next traitor—if any—will come from the Aphrodite cabin; that the Drew will be that traitor. And she cries. And cries. And cries.
And when Drew is done, Aphrodite’s arms are around her and they’re both seated. Aphrodite lets Drew go and gently cups her cheek. “You’re blunt. That doesn’t make you unkind—and you aren’t. Don’t hide behind your words; show your siblings that you care. I know you do.” Aphrodite smiles gently, and Drew feels… seen. Understood. “Love is a rewarding thing, Drew. You and the rest already love each other. The other stuff isn’t as hard as it seems. And if you’re scared or unsure, you have Chase, Barrera, Clarisse, ” her smile becomes even more gentle, “me.”
Drew takes a deep breath. Aphrodite’s hand slips from her cheek and into Drew’s, resting their hands on her lap. Drew exhales. And does it again. She nods. She can do this.
“Good?”
Drew scowls. Good is pushing it, but Drew does feel lighter now. Like it won’t be impossible to handle being counsellor. “Just fine.” Aphrodite laughs. “Thanks.”
“A good shopping spree can fix anything, Drew. A good one.” Aphrodite says, eyes twinkling. “And a bad one…” she shudders and frowns, “it just makes everything worse.”
They sit in silence, and Drew takes the opportunity to examine her mother again. She doesn’t look like looking into a mirror anymore. She looks like she could be anyone, but her beauty is still undeniable. Maybe the fact that Aphrodite doesn’t look like Drew or anyone Drew recognises is supposed to mean something. Drew is too drained to guess what.
“Well then,” Aphrodite says, picking the basket up, “let’s sort these out and get going.”
***