People think I’m a thief, a sneak, a pickpocket, and a lock picker. They’re right, of course, but c’mon—how else am I supposed to spend my time while waiting for a quest?

When my brother, Travis, was here (he’s in college now), we explored every inch of camp except one area: the Big House attic. No way either of us was setting foot in there while that ol’ leather-skinned hippie Oracle was propped in the corner.

But then Spooky gave up the spirit and crumbled to dust on the Big House front porch. We saw our chance and took it. While everyone else was waiting to see if Rachel, the new Oracle, would survive the spirit invasion (spoiler: she did), we made our move around to the back door of the Big House.

It was locked. (Ha!) One pick, three clicks, and BOOM!—we were inside. Thanks to past reconnaissance missions, we knew the way up to the attic. We pulled down the stairs and stuck our heads through the trapdoor and into a thieves’ paradise.

We ignored the junk, like that old three-legged stool the mummy used to sit on. But other pieces seemed to scream Pick me! Pick me! as if itching to be freed from their dusty attic prison. That glittery crown on the mannequin in the far corner. That emerald-pommeled sword hanging on the wall. That sweet Elvis-style rhinestone cape, which for some reason was draped across the shoulders of a stuffed taxidermic grizzly bear.

Travis and I had planned to take our time and really search through the stuff. But then, for no apparent reason, this beam of golden light shot upward through the floor and engulfed the Oracle’s old three-legged stool. The light shut off as quickly as it had appeared, and the stool was gone. I didn’t know what had just happened. Maybe Apollo was teleporting the stool to its new owner. Maybe somebody was randomly blasting disintegrator rays in our direction. Hey, you never know what those Hephaestus kids will do. Anyway, it kind of freaked us out. We decided not to stick around, just in case that weird beam came back and zapped us away too. We grabbed the nearest things we could reach—a canvas sack for me, a small wooden box for Travis—and got out of that attic faster than you can say Hermes Express.

Back at our cabin, we chased the other demigods outside and told them to go play in the woods or something (being co–head counselors does have its privileges). Then we sat down to examine our take.

Travis opened the lid of his box. His eyes grew wide. “Whoa. It’s a mystical bag of winds.”

My pulse started to race. “Like the thermos Dad gave Percy that time? I’ve always wanted one of those! Let me see!”

All slow and dramatic, he pulled out a flat pink rubber sack with a thin nozzle at one end. “Behold!”

I smacked him on the arm. “That’s a whoopee cushion, you idiot.”

He burst out laughing. “Yeah, but I had you there for a second. Okay, your turn.”

I rummaged in my bag and pulled out…a pair of barbecue tongs.

Travis snickered. “What are you going to do with those? You can’t even toast bread without burning it. Are those things Celestial bronze at least?”

“Dunno. But there’s an inscription: ‘For plucking the Tartarus napkin from the fire.’” I turned them over and read the other side. “‘One use only.’” I looked at Travis. “What the gods does that mean?”

“Well, Connor,” my brother said, “I believe it means that you only get to use them once.”

“Shut up.” I almost threw my new tongs at him, then thought better of it. For some reason, that “Tartarus napkin” thing made me edgy. I decided to keep the tongs on me at all times—at least until I got my one use out of them.

Good thing I did, too, because later that summer, a napkin from Tartarus did appear in the dining pavilion fire. It’s a long story, but if I hadn’t had those tongs…well, I’m not sure I’d be writing this right now.

As for Travis, he loved his whoopee cushion so much he slept with it at night. At least, he claimed those sounds I heard were coming from the whoopee cushion. I kind of feel sorry for his college roommate.

With its Greek marble columns and unencumbered views of the sky above, this inviting seaside facility screams classical elegance. The oversize tables, each reserved for members of a specific cabin, can easily accommodate up to twenty campers. The white tablecloths, edged with purple, add a dash of distinction. The menu boasts every food imaginable, and dishes are served and cleared by the loveliest dryads in the forest. Just don’t forget to start your meal with a burnt offering to the gods! Oh, and ignore that crack in the marble floor—it’s from a slight mishap when zombies were accidentally summoned from the Underworld. Nothing to worry about!

DINING PAVILION ANNOUNCEMENTS

REMINDER:

Hecate head counselor Lou Ellen Blackstone and Hermes head counselors Travis and Connor Stoll will conduct cabin inspections this morning. Veteran campers, please assist your new cabinmates. As always, cleanest cabin wins first-shower privileges; filthiest cabin will clean the pegasus stables.

That is all.

UPDATE:

It has come to my attention that in the course of today’s cabin inspections, several personal items went missing. Stoll brothers, please report to the Big House immediately.

That is all.

UPDATE:

You may recall that during today’s cabin inspections, several personal items appeared to have gone missing. I say appeared because in fact, Lou Ellen hid the items by manipulating the Mist. Please see her for further details concerning the eventual reappearance of your possessions. Hermes cabin, my apologies.

Hecate cabin, please report to the pegasus stables. Blackjack and Porkpie are waiting.

That is all.

Just a stone’s throw from the divine cabins, the Big House, and Half-Blood Hill, this gathering spot features rising tiers of stone bench seating that curve around the central stage. The benches are as comfortable as any mortal movie-theater chair, and there’s not a bad view in the house. So take a seat, bask in the glow of the campfire, and add your voice to the joyful sing-along with such favorite hits as “Grandma Was a Gorgon” and “This Is Not Kumbaya; This Is Sparta!”

Tragedy! You finally make it to camp alive—only to discover that you forgot your toothbrush! You could Iris-message your mortal parent for a new one. But do you really want to walk around with drakon breath until it arrives? Instead, hit the camp store! While you’re there, be sure to check out the latest line of wind chimes—available in Celestial bronze, silver, and seashell—perfect for interpreting the voices of prophecy-spouting trees! If hanging bling in branches isn’t your thing, how about the new Mythomagic expansion pack, Dual Deity Duel? The cards feature holographic images that change the gods’ aspects from Greek to Roman and back. He’s Ares! No, he’s Mars! No, he’s Ares again! Hours of dizzying head-to-head play! From tees to totes, whatever your needs, the camp store is your perfect one-stop shop.

OMG, I just about died when I saw Apollo’s orientation film. Those cute boys with their shorty-short swim trunks…um, yes, please!

As a daughter of Aphrodite, I’m always on the lookout for fresh “old-is-new” fashion ideas. Seeing those 1950s retro styles reminded me of a locked chest marked vintage clothing that I’d spotted in the back of the camp store a couple of days before. I’d been meaning to check out that chest, but Connor would never let me behind the counter to rummage through it. He was so annoying. He didn’t understand the concept of browsing, like, at all.