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“I saw two!” yelled Percy. He was practically vibrating in his seat, and that alone concerned Annabeth. She could see the burst of his blond hair, sunnier than Apollo himself amid the Big House’s pristine warmth. She prayed to whatever god listening that no one heard that intrusive thought.
With the chaos that was currently happening around them, she almost regretted coming back to Camp Half-Blood for the summer.
However, the camp’s stillness—besides the movement behind the crack in the door that led to the Big House—was not what she expected when their camp director, Mr. D, was missing.
Earlier that morning, the nymphs were in disarray as they searched high and low for him. The satyrs too were disheveled messes. Grapes along Cabin Twelve’s trellises drooped and shriveled into raisins in response to Castor and Pollux’s anxiety.
“There’s another one!” screamed another voice that Annabeth recognized as Travis Stoll. There was a muffled mmph as if someone stuffed something into his mouth. “Wha’ was tha’ for Clarisse?!”
Annabeth pushed open the door. She could not believe her eyes. Inside the living room was half the camp. From the looks of things, all the Head Counselors were present too.
“That was for being a pain in the butt, Stoll!” shouted Clarisse. In her hands was a half-eaten sandwich that looked decidedly appalling. Something orange oozed from the bread, and Annabeth was sure that she did not want to know the ingredients. “I told you I had dibs on the left side of the screen! You’re supposed to take the middle!”
Travis swallowed with a grimace. “How am I supposed to know what counts as middle when the camera is moving?”
Annabeth closed the door behind her and stepped into the room. She sighed when she plopped next to an exhausted-looking Grover. “Okay,” she said, “What is happening here?”
Grover groaned and picked at his horns. He gestured toward Chiron on the other side of the room who was next to a table with an unfinished game of pinochle. The esteemed centaur appeared the most unbothered of them all. In fact, he looked amused. Annabeth stored that information in the back of her mind, alarm bells ringing louder than they would if there was a burglary at the Met.
“Chiron turned on the Olympics Opening Ceremony. It’s in Paris this time,” said Grover. He slumped in his seat. “Meanwhile my head hurts from the stress. The Council of Cloven Elders doesn’t like Mr. D missing because…well…”
“If Chiron isn’t blamed, you guys will be,” finished Annabeth. “So, no one is concerned about where Mr. D is? Zeus is going to flip if we can’t find him soon.”
Percy shouted a random number again, completely ignoring her. Connor threw a Sour Patch Kid at Percy’s head, and the tiny gummy human slid down his cheek as if it were a bird that had slammed into a windshield.
The images on the television moved. Colorful people in elaborate costumes blared across the screen. A person holding their disembodied head screamed the opening words to a French song. The camera zoomed out and heavy metal music blasted from the speakers.
“Now this is cool,” Clarisse said. “None of that Les Misérables stuff.”
Despite herself, Annabeth straightened up. “Les Misérables happens to be a book made into a musical that represents the people of the French Revolution, a time in which France fought for freedom from the oppressive nobility and—”
Clarisse glared at her.
“That woman singing right now is Marie Antoinette, the last queen before the Revolution who was beheaded because she didn’t care for her people!”
“Oh, there’s a pretty gold clock on this building!” interrupted Silena. She tossed her glossy hair over her shoulder as if she was proud of herself. Annabeth forgot that there were so many others here too.
She blinked and narrowed her eyes at the screen. “That’s the famous Concierge building along the Seine,” Annabeth said more calmly. “It has the oldest public clock in Paris.” She tilted her head, a sudden understanding coming to her. “Are you guys counting clocks?”
To his credit, Percy somehow remained on the ottoman he sat on without sliding off from sheer excitement. “Yeah!” he agreed. “We noticed that Paris has so many. So, we started a game. Count all the clocks we see, even the watches. There was even a dude with a pocket watch.”
Her love of architecture must have gotten in the way of her judgment because Annabeth nodded, resigned. With everyone so distracted with the goings-on of the Olympics, there was no way anyone would be worried about searching for their wayward camp director. Paris did have beautiful clock towers, after all.
The ceremonies rolled by. Occasionally, someone screamed about a wristwatch. They watched columns of elaborate boats float across the Seine, presenting each participating country’s athletes.
A new boat appeared, this time complete with a long table and the best-dressed drag queens Annabeth had ever seen.
Then, the abject horror took over.
“THAT’S MR. D!” screeched Grover. “ON THE TABLE!”
A few things happened all at once. Pop, pop, and new overwhelming presences materialized in the Big House. The campers in the living room all scrambled to peer closer at the television, Chiron trotted over, and every Head Counselor’s jaw dropped open.
On a silver platter, painted a sparkling blue and completely naked, was Mr. D surrounded by bunches of fresh grapes. He had a grin on his face.
“That’s Dionysus, all right,” uttered a voice from behind her.
Annabeth jumped, surprised to notice Apollo.
“You know, the first Olympics were in Olympia, Greece. Started 776 B.C.,” the god said, unfazed. “Dionysus loved the festivities.”
Another god appeared next to Percy. “And the wine,” Poseidon added.
Percy perked up, eyeing his father with both trepidation and amazement. “What if we time-traveled to see them?” Everyone stared at him for a moment in silence as if Mr. D was not currently frolicking on a boat in France. “What about Grandpa?”
Annabeth narrowed her eyes. “Grandpa?”
“He has time magic. What if we ask him to bring us to 776 B.C. to see the first Olympics—”
“No!” cried Chiron.
“I will not have my son watch ancient Greeks perform discus throws in the nude—”
Apollo howled with laughter. “Oh, but I absolutely will allow it.”
Annabeth blacked out the next few minutes, transfixed on Mr. D wiggling his eyebrows through the screen. She could not believe that an hour later when he returned, it was to a standing ovation.