The sun was setting behind the dining pavilion as the campers came up from their cabins. The four demigods—well, the three and Tyson?—stood in the shadow of a marble column and watched them file in.

Annabeth was still pretty shaken up, but she promised she'd talk to them later. Then she went off to join her siblings from the Athena cabin. Annabeth wasn't the oldest, but she'd been at camp more summers than just about anybody. You could tell that by looking at her camp necklace—one bead for every summer, and Annabeth had six, like Aurora (Luke would've, but... haha, awkward!). Therefore, no one questioned her right to lead the line.

Percy was expecting Aurora to ditch him as soon as she saw Gracie, but instead, she stood still next to Percy, as though rooted to the ground by regret. Gracie eagerly waved to her sister, and Aurora gave her a quick, fleeting smile back, but she didn't rush over to the Demeter cabin. It was strange, but he didn't question it. You learn not to question what goes through Aurora's mind. 

Next came Clarisse, leading the Ares cabin. She had one arm in a sling and a nasty-looking gash on her cheek, but otherwise her encounter with the bronze bulls didn't seem to have fazed her. Someone had taped a piece of paper to her back that said, YOU MOO, GIRL! But nobody in her cabin was bothering to tell her about it. Clarisse stuck up her middle finger at Percy and Aurora, to which the girl blew a kiss in response and winked flirtatiously. Percy never understood how his friend could ever be close with that monstrosity of a human, but again, you don't question Aurora.

After the Ares kids came the Hephaestus cabin-six guys led by Charles Beckendorf, a big fifteen-year-old African American kid. He was nice enough once you got to know him, but no one ever called him Charlie or Chuck or Charles—except for some of the long-time campers, like Aurora and Silena Beauregard. Percy had no idea how, but she knew everyone at camp, and most of them, especially the older kids, were extremely fond of her. Besides them, most just called him Beckendorf. Rumor was he could make anything. He was so cool.

After the satyrs filed in to dinner, the Hermes cabin brought up the rear. They were always the biggest cabin. Now that Luke was gone, the Hermes cabin was led by Travis and Connor Stoll. They weren't twins, but they looked so much alike it didn't matter. Percy wouldn't have remembered who was older if Aurora wasn't glued to the hip with Connor, who's as closer to their age than Travis. Percy found himself absently comparing himself to the younger Stoll. Connor was good-looking enough, Percy could see what girls saw in him and Travis, but he wasn't, like, exceptional or anything. At least, he hoped not. Percy didn't know if it was the camp air or something, but unlike himself, Connor was tall, with a mop of brown hair that was actually manageable hanging loosely over his bright eyes and clear skin. He had those elfish features all Hermes's kids had: upturned eyebrows, sarcastic smiles, a gleam in his eyes whenever they looked at you—like he was about to drop a firecracker down your shirt. From a girl's perspective, he was cute, and really funny, if that got him any points. He had the Hermes smooth gene, too. Percy knew because he would constantly jokingly attempt to charm Aurora: tilting her chin, lacing their fingers together, etcetera, etcetera. It made Percy nauseous to think about.

Instead of Aurora bouncing over to her cabin with the excitement and enthusiasm as she usually did, she slowly peeled herself away from Percy with a glower and sat herself next to Connor without making eye contact with anyone—and most campers were staring at her confusedly, including Percy. Percy had so many questions in his head—the Hermes cabin wasn't even her cabin! And she couldn't like Connor that much—but as he led Tyson into the middle of the pavilion, he could hear whispers that slightly answered his question.

"Let her sit with the unclaimed kids. She doesn't belong to our cabin anyway." One girl from the Demeter Cabin hissed. Percy felt like a knife plunged into his gut as Aurora shrunk into Connor's larger shadow.

Another voice, coming from the Apollo table, let out a snort. This time, it was directed at his other friend. As Tyson followed Percy, conversations faltered and heads turned, and Percy could feel the heavy gazes. "Who invited that?"

Before Percy could start another fight, from the head table, a familiar voice drawled, "Well, well, if it isn't Peter Johnson. My millennium is complete."

Percy gritted his teeth. "Percy Jackson... sir."

Mr. D sipped his Diet Coke. "Yes. Well, as you young people say these days: Whatever." He was wearing his usual leopard-pattern Hawaiian shirt, walking shorts, and tennis shoes with black socks.

Next to him, where Chiron usually sat (or stood, in centaur form), was someone Percy'd never seen before-a pale, horribly thin man in a threadbare orange prisoner's jumpsuit. The number over his pocket read 0001. He had blue shadows under his eyes, dirty fingernails, and badly cut gray hair. He stared at Percy; his eyes made him nervous. He looked... fractured. Angry and frustrated and hungry all at the same time. Very hungry.

"This boy," Dionysus told him, "you need to watch. Poseidon's child, you know."

"Ah!" the prisoner said. "That one." His tone made it obvious that he and Dionysus had already discussed him at length.

Percy debated whether or not to be flattered. "Wow. Am I famous or something?" He deadpanned, the sarcasm slipping out of his lips involuntarily.

"Oh yes. I am Tantalus," the prisoner answered, smiling coldly. "On special assignment here until, well, until my Lord Dionysus decides otherwise. And you, Perseus Jackson, I do expect you to refrain from causing any more trouble."

"Trouble?" Percy demanded. Okay, trouble and Percy did go hand and hand. But what did this new dude know?

"Yes, trouble," Tantalus repeated with satisfaction. "You caused plenty of it last summer, I understand."

Percy was too mad to speak. Like it was his fault the gods had almost gotten into a civil war? "I didn't do a fucking thi—"

A satyr inched forward nervously and set a plate of barbecue in front of Tantalus. The new activities director licked his lips. He looked at his empty goblet and said, "Root beer. Barq's special stock. 1967."

The glass filled itself with foamy soda. Tantalus stretched out his hand hesitantly, as if he were afraid the goblet was hot.

"Go on, then, old fellow," Dionysus said, a strange sparkle in his eyes. Percy recognized it all too well. "Perhaps now it will work."

Tantalus grabbed for the glass, but it scooted away before he could touch it. A few drops of root beer spilled, and Tantalus tried to dab them up with his fingers, but the drops rolled away like quicksilver before he could touch them. He growled and turned toward the plate of barbecue. He picked up a fork and tried to stab a piece of brisket, but the plate skittered down the table and flew off the end, straight into the coals of the brazier.

"Blast!" Tantalus muttered.

"Ah, well," Dionysus said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Perhaps a few more days. Believe me, old chap, working at this camp will be torture enough. I'm sure your old curse will fade eventually."

"Eventually," muttered Tantalus, staring at Dionysus's Diet Coke. Percy wanted to laugh. "Do you have any idea how dry one's throat gets after three thousand years?"

"You're that spirit from the Fields of Punishment," Percy commented. "The one who stands in the lake with the fruit tree hanging over you, but you can't eat or drink."

Tantalus sneered at him. "A real scholar, aren't you, boy?"

"Oh, shut the hell up!" Percy could hear a muffled shout come from the huge table where all the Hermes kids sat. Gracie's high pitched giggles could be heard through Connor's distinctive voice's taunts echoing, "That's a curse, I swear it's a curse!"

Aurora—because who else could it even be—argued back defensively. "If you think hell is a curse, then you need to go back to the mortal world."

"You must've done something really horrible when you were alive," Percy noted, mildly impressed. "What was it?"

Tantalus's eyes narrowed. Behind him, the satyrs were shaking their heads vigorously in attempts at warning.

"I'll be watching you, Percy Jackson," Tantalus said. "I don't want any problems at my camp."

"Your camp has problems already." Percy pointed out, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Sir." Tantalus corrected.

"Are you really asking me to quote Harry Potter to you?" He snickered under his breath. "Nerdy ass bitch." He squeezed his eyes shut in prayer that Tantalus didn't hear him, and thank the gods that the hungry guy didn't, or else Percy would've been sautéed on the spot.

"Oh, go sit down, Johnson," Dionysus sighed. Percy never thought he would be thankful for the overgrown brat, but looking at Tantalus' clenched fists, Percy would be his next attempt at a meal. "I believe that table over there is yours—the one where no one else ever wants to sit."

Percy's face burned with embarrassment. The only reason he was alone was because the tables were sorted by parent, and zero exceptions. Except for Aurora. Because she was sitting with the Hermes kids. Percy wanted her to sit with him. How was that fair?

Percy glowered at Mr. D and beckoned for his friend. "Come on, Tyson."

"Oh, no," Tantalus said. "The monster stays here. We must decide what to do with it."

"Him." Percy snapped with a strained voice. "His name is Tyson."

The new activities director raised an eyebrow.

"Tyson saved the camp," Percy insisted. "He pounded those bronze bulls. Otherwise they would've burned down this whole place."

"Yes," Tantalus sighed, "and what a pity that would've been." Dionysus snickered. No one else thought it was funny, obviously.

"Leave us," Tantalus ordered, "while we decide this creature's fate."

Tyson looked at Percy with fear in his one big eye, but Percy—unfortunately—knew he couldn't disobey a direct order from the camp directors. Not openly, anyway.

"I'll be right over here, big guy," He promised guiltily. "Don't worry. We'll find you a good place to sleep tonight."

Tyson nodded. "I believe you. You are my friend."

That made him feel a whole lot guiltier.

Percy trudged over to the Poseidon table and slumped onto the bench. A wood nymph brought him a plate of Olympian olive-and-pepperoni pizza, but he wasn't hungry. He tried to make eye contact with Aurora, but her head was leaning against Connor's shoulder, and the thought of putting anything into his churning stomach was slightly terrifying. Percy attempted to communicate with Annabeth, but she seemed to be plotting something with her siblings. What else was new?

Percy had been almost killed twice that day. He'd managed to end his school year with another complete disaster. Camp Half-Blood was in serious trouble and Chiron had told me not to do anything about it. Percy didn't feel very thankful, but he took his dinner, as was customary, up to the bronze brazier and scraped part of it into the flames.

"Poseidon," he murmured, "accept my offering."

And send me some help while you're at it, Percy prayed silently. Wild-flowers mixed into the flames—but he had no idea if that meant his father, or any of the Olympians, were really listening.

Percy went back to his seat. He think things could get much worse. But then Tantalus had one of the satyrs blow the conch horn to get our attention for announcements.

"Yes, well," Tantalus said, once the talking had died down. "Another fine meal! Or so I am told."

As he spoke, he inched his hand toward his refilled dinner plate, as if maybe the food wouldn't notice what he was doing, but it did. It shot away down the table as soon as he got within six inches.

"And here on my first day of authority," he continued, "I'd like to say what a pleasant form of punishment it is to be here. Over the course of the summer, I hope to torture, er, interact with each and every one of you children. You all look good enough to eat."

Dionysus clapped politely, leading to some halfhearted applause from the satyrs. Tyson was still standing at the head table, looking uncomfortable, but every time he tried to scoot out of the limelight, Tantalus pulled him back.

"And now some changes!" Tantalus gave the campers a crooked smile. "We are reinstituting the chariot races!"

Murmuring broke out at all the tables-excitement, fear, disbelief.

"Now I know," Tantalus continued, raising his voice, "that these races were discontinued some years ago due to, ah, technical problems."

"Three deaths and twenty-six mutilations," someone at the Apollo table called.

"Yes, yes!" Tantalus said. "But I know that you will all join me in welcoming the return of this camp tradition. Golden laurels will go to the winning charioteers each month. Teams may register in the morning! The first race will be held in three days time. We will release you from most of your regular activities to prepare your chariots and choose your horses. Oh, and did I mention, the victorious team's cabin will have no chores for the month in which they win?"

An explosion of excited conversation—no KP for a whole month? No stable cleaning? Was he serious?

Then the last person Percy expected to object did so.

"But, sir!" Clarisse said. She looked nervous, but she stood up to speak from the Ares table. "What about patrol duty? I mean, if we drop everything to ready our chariots—"

"Ah, the hero of the day," Tantalus exclaimed. "Brave Clarisse, who single-handedly bested the bronze bulls!"

Clarisse blinked, then blushed. "Um, I didn't—"

"And modest, too." Tantalus grinned. "Not to worry, my dear! This is a summer camp. We are here to enjoy ourselves, yes?"

"But the tree—"

"And now," Tantalus said, as several of Clarisse's cabin mates pulled her back into her seat, "before we proceed to the campfire and sing-along, one slight housekeeping issue. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase have seen fit, for some reason, to bring this here." Tantalus waved a hand toward Tyson.

"Now, of course," he said, "Cyclopes have a reputation for being bloodthirsty monsters with a very small brain capacity. Under normal circumstances, I would release this beast into the woods and have you hunt it down with torches and pointed sticks. But who knows? Perhaps this Cyclops is not as horrible as most of its brethren. Until it proves worthy of destruction, we need a place to keep it! I've thought about the stables, but that will make the horses nervous. Hermes's cabin, possibly?"

Silence at the Hermes table. Travis and Connor Stoll developed a sudden interest in the tablecloth. Aurora elbowed Connor, but he just nudged her back absently. But Percy couldn't blame them. The Hermes cabin was always full to bursting. There was no way they could take in a six-foot-three Cyclops.

"Come now," Tantalus chided. "The monster may be able to do some menial chores. Any suggestions as to where such a beast should be kenneled?"

Suddenly everybody gasped.

Tantalus scooted away from Tyson in surprise. All Percy could do was stare in disbelief at the brilliant green light that was about to change his life—a dazzling holographic image that had appeared above Tyson's head.

With a sickening twist in my stomach, Percy remembered what Annabeth had said about Cyclopes. They're the children of nature spirits and gods... well, one god in particular, usually...

Swirling over Tyson was a glowing green trident-the same symbol that had appeared above Percy the day Poseidon had claimed him as his son.

There was a moment of awed silence.

Being claimed was a rare event. Some campers waited in vain for it their whole lives. When Percy'd been claimed by Poseidon last summer, everyone had reverently knelt. But now, they followed Tantalus's lead, and Tantalus roared with laughter. "Well! I think we know where to put the beast now. By the gods, I can see the family resemblance!"

Everybody laughed except Annabeth, Aurora, and a few of his other friends. He felt a resentment grow in his stomach and expand to the rest of his body.

Tyson didn't seem to notice. He was too mystified, trying to swat the glowing trident that was now fading over his head. He was too innocent to understand how much they were making fun of him, how cruel people were.

But Percy got it.

He had a new cabin mate. He had a monster for a half-brother.

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The next few days were torture, just like Tantalus wanted.

First there was Tyson moving into the Poseidon cabin, giggling to himself every fifteen seconds and saying, "Percy is my brother?" like he'd just won the lottery. Percy couldn't understand why anyone would be excited about living with him, of all people. And despite Percy's moral code, he felt... well, the complete opposite of Tyson's elation.

"Aw, Tyson," he'd say. "It's not that simple." But there was no explaining it to him. He was in heaven. And Percy... as much as he liked the big guy, he couldn't help feeling embarrassed. Ashamed. There, he admitted it.

His father, the all-powerful Poseidon, had gotten moony-eyed for some nature spirit, decided to fuck one of them, and Tyson had been the result. I mean, he'd read the myths about Cyclopes. I even remembered that they were often Poseidon's children. But he'd never really processed that this made them his... family. Until he had Tyson living with him in the next bunk.

Like, what?

And then there were the comments from the other campers. Suddenly, he wasn't Percy Jackson, the cool guy who'd retrieved Zeus's lightning bolt last summer. Now he was Percy Jackson, the poor schmuck with the ugly monster for a brother.

Percy couldn't help but become angry with his dad. It was like being Poseidon's son was now a joke, not some revered and awe-striking experience.

One gloomy afternoon, Percy had finally been able to escape Tyson's nonstop questions and exhilaration. I mean, camp was not that cool.

Some of the Ares kids were taunting Percy about Tyson. Percy tried his best. He really did. But even when he wasn't around the dude, Tyson's reputation and image was stuck to him like glue.

"I honestly think the other one is cuter." A younger girl with black hair from the Aphrodite Cabin—Drew, Percy recalled—snickered with an Ares boy.

"He's not my real brother!" Percy felt his mouth open, words of protest and denial spilling out against his good will. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help himself. "He's more like a half- brother on the monstrous side of the family. Like... a half-brother twice removed, or something."

Drew just rolled her eyes and flipped her glossy hair. Most of the Aphrodite girls weren't stereotypical mean Barbies—they were more nice, helpful, and caring Barbies—but Drew was born to be a bitch, decked out in Lululemon, with her designer handbag slung around her arm.

"We're not actually related." But no matter how much Percy denied and argued, no one believed him.

Percy was about to punch the Ares kid, who was ("hilariously") covering his left eye with his hand and mimicking the dumbstruck expression Tyson usually had on his face before Drew