Page 27 of The Wild Zone

“Third floor.” He pointed above us. Then he started stacking the four chairs that had been arranged for the film.

Four.

My heart ached when I realized there should have been five.

Again, Argus noticed my hesitation and faced me. “Anything else, Katie?”

I wrung my hands. “Well…earlier you asked us if we knew where Grant was. Is the search going that badly?”

It must be impossible to play poker when you have a hundred eyes. There’s no way at least one won’t give you away. In Argus’s case, every single eye seemed to look in a different direction, as if trying to avoid my question.

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “We haven’t found any sign of Grant in our searches yet, but that’s a good thing.”

I arched an eyebrow. “How is that a good thing?”

“It’s better to find no camper than half of one.”

My stomach lurched. I wasn’t sure if Argus was attempting to lighten the mood with humor, but if so, he wasn’t much better at it than Apollo.

He clapped me on the shoulder. “You just enjoy camp and let me do the worrying, all right?” In case that wasn’t clear enough, he pointed above us. “Seriously. Pantheon Politics.”

And so, I turned and climbed the stairs.

It wouldn’t be the worst idea to learn how to think like the gods, I figured. Especially if I wanted to survive life with their relatives.

6

I Do My Best to Kill Benny

I know it’s wrong to talk bad about your parents, but wow, the gods are not always the brightest stars in the sky.

Mr. Pindar, our Pantheon Politics instructor, turned out to be pretty entertaining. He was a retired poetry professor from Riverhead, although I suspected he might also be a satyr in disguise. (Satyrs and poets have a similar vibe.)

He was a small guy with thick-framed yellow bifocals, a bushy white man-bun, and a wild gray beard that made his head look like a dandelion. His jeans were tucked into Ugg boots—plenty of room to conceal satyr hooves—and his grimy T-shirt was covered in constellation patterns. Despite his age, his eyes sparkled when he told stories. He spoke with so much energy, waving his arms and beaming with glee, that it was hard not to pay attention.

The class was me and four other kids, all from the Athena cabin. Today’s session focused on how often the gods had been tricked—by mortals and even other gods.

Sisyphus, a mortal, cheated death twice in Hades’s domain. Hermes was just a baby when he invented cattle rustling by taking Apollo’s entire herd. Zeus had tricked his dad Kronos into vomiting up his other kids and then cut him to pieces with his own scythe. Prometheus stole fire from Zeus to give to mortals, which is how humans evolved into the annoying creatures we are today.

Mr. Pindar meant for us to take the stories as warnings that we shouldn’t fall into traps the way the gods had, but I saw his tales as an acknowledgment of the gods’ weaknesses. Honestly, it was refreshing to know they weren’t flawless.

I strutted away from Pantheon Politics feeling inspired. Maybe I could make this work after all.

I headed across the grounds toward the forge. I could learn about crafting weapons, maybe even pick up some gossip about the secrets of the Wild Zone. Or if not, I could at least hit stuff with a hammer.

On the way, I was surprised to see Harper leading a group of campers through an obstacle course like it was nothing. He leaped barbed-wire hurdles, swung ropes across chasms, and wove and dodged between columns that bristled with spikes, his blond hair bouncing like in a slow-motion shampoo commercial. He flicked a stray lock out of his eyes, and I swear the little sweat droplets were shaped like hearts.

When one of his cabinmates fell into a noxious-gas-filled pit labeled li’l tartarus, Harper didn’t even think twice before doubling back and helping the poor kid out. Then Harper kept running, still well in front of the other campers.

“Woo-hoo!” I cheered.

Harper and I weren’t super close, but after the night of horrors we’d endured, it was weirdly comforting to see him doing so well.

He glanced my way and grinned.

“Looks like he might break the camp record,” said Silena Beauregard. I hadn’t realized she was standing beside me, despite her bright pink tracksuit, flashy gold whistle, and diamond-studded stopwatch.

“Really?” I beamed like a proud parent.