We swallowed a few bites – not too much, since the food of the gods can burn you to ashes if you overindulge. ‘I don’t need your help,’ she muttered, but she took the ambrosia. I took a bag of ambrosia out of my jacket, where I always kept it for emergencies, broke a piece in half and offered some to Clarisse. As long as it wasn’t tipped with poison, I’d be okay. I had a few scratches, but nothing major. Together, Clarisse and I sliced and hacked until all the birds were reduced to piles of feathers on the ground. I uncapped my pen, which grew into a metre-long bronze sword, and joined the battle, slashing at the birds and deflecting their feathers off my blade.
‘Just my luck,’ Clarisse grumbled, but she was too busy fighting to complain much. She was cut short by a volley of feather arrows that zipped over her head and impaled themselves in the wall. That still left a dozen more swarming around her. The bird squawked and spiralled away, slamming against the brick wall and sliding into a trashcan. I got to the alley just in time to see Clarisse smack a devil bird with the flat of her sword like she was hitting a home run. I got out my weapon – a ballpoint pen called Riptide. I ran out the door, stripping off my safety goggles, gloves and lab apron. It will get you out of class faster than anything else. You know how teachers tell you the magic word is please? That’s not true. ‘Mrs White,’ I said, ‘can I go to the restroom? I feel like I’m going to puke.’ I had no idea what she was doing on the Upper East Side in the middle of a school day, but she was obviously in trouble. Clarisse usually lived at Camp Half-Blood year-round. It was Clarisse, my old enemy from demigod camp.
She cursed and sliced at the bird, but it flew away. As I watched, one of the birds shot a feather like an arrow, and it lodged in her shoulder. Feathers stuck out of her clothes in several places. She was hacking at a flock of black birds the size of ravens. She was tall and muscular like a basketball player, with stringy brown hair and jeans, combat boots and a denim jacket. Sure enough, there was a girl in the alley with her sword drawn. We were in the lab, so everybody was talking, and it wasn’t hard for me to go look out the window while I pretended to wash out my beaker. Nobody else seemed to notice the commotion. Like somebody was getting attacked by possessed poultry, and, believe me, that’s a situation I’ve been in before. I was in fifth-period science class when I heard these noises outside. All you need to know about Clarisse is that her father is Ares. Quote: Hey, Prissy (aka Percy), get ready to be pulverized!īody type: Big and ugly and real mean-looking.Ībout Clarisse: I’m gonna give you a massive heads-up here. Tyson had to grow up on the streets, until I found him, that is. As the child of a nature spirit and a god (okay, my dad, Poseidon), he was cast out and tossed aside. Location: Poseidon’s palace, somewhere at the bottom of the seaīody type: Huge, bulky and yeah, oh right, he only has one eye.Ībout Tyson: He’s had it kinda rough too. Gender: Cyclops (but don’t worry, he’s a goodie) He finally got his searcher’s licence to find the missing god Pan, but he keeps getting interrupted! Oh well, at least the Cyclopes didn’t eat him. Yes, very…Ībout the G-man: He’s a satyr: half man, half goat. He’ll eat all your aluminium cans!īody type: Barnyard. Status: Why does everybody think Annabeth and I are a couple? She’s just my friend, seriously!īody type: 179cm, kinda athletic, I guess, blonde hair, grey eyes.Īge: 26 (but satyrs mature twice as slowly as humans, so he’s really 13)īest feature: You’ll never have a problem with recycling when the G-man is around. She ran away from home when she was seven because her dad got remarried and then she hung around with Luke and Thalia for a while before coming to camp. But from the waist down he’s a white stallion!Īge: 13 and a half (and apparently way more mature than me)Ībout Annabeth: She’s had a kinda tough life. From the waist up he looks like a regular middle-aged guy: curly brown hair, check. The same Titan who wants to kill ME!īody type: When he’s in his wheelchair you wouldn’t know that he’s a centaur.
Occupation: Activities Director at Camp Half-BloodĪbout Chiron: Chiron’s dad is none other than the scariest Titan of them all, Kronos. Location: Camp Half-Blood, Long Island, New York (NB I only added Clarisse ’cause she’s got me out of a few scraps. These are the guys you’d want around as your back-up team. Okay, it’s not every day that you’ll find yourself battling a doughnut-eating monster but, for the sake of argument, let’s say you did.