Daughter of Wine

Callida

I designed the walls of the mess hall to show real-time scenes from Camp half-Blood. At first I thought it was a pretty awesome idea. Now I'm not so sure. 

The scenes from back home- the campfire sing-alongs, dinners at the pavilion, volleyball games outside the Big House- just seem to make my friends sad. The farther we get from Long Island, the worse it gets. The time zones keep changing, making me feel the distance every time I look at the walls. Here in Italy the sun has just come up. Back at Camp Half-Blood it's the middle of the night. Torches sputter at the cabindoorways. Moonlight glitters on the waves of Long Island Sound. The beach is covered in footprints, as if a big crowd has just left. 

With a pang in my chest, I realize that yesterday, last night, whatever, was the Fourth of July. I missed Camp Half-Blood's annual party at the beach with awesome fireworks prepared by Cabin Nine. It's my favorite holiday. I love fireworks more than anything in the world, and I missed them. I love the Fourth of July. Maybe it makes me sound un-American, but I don't like it for the spirit of national pride. I like it because everyone gets together, celebrates, and has a good time. No pressure to make a resolution, or be with family, or anything like that. Just friends, fireworks, and food. 

I decide not to mention it to the crew, but I hope my friends at home had a good celebration. They need something to keep their spirits up. 

I stare down at my bacon and eggs. I wish I could turn off the wall videos. 

"So," Jason says, "Now that we're here..."

Jason sits beside me, where I've taken Annabeth's spot at the head of the table. I've been doing my best to act as the group's leader, and Jason has not tried to take over in the slightest bit. A part of me wishes he would, but mostly, I'm glad. I feel like I need to do this. I need to be in charge of rescuing my friends. 

I glance at the others around the table. Hazel is bleary-eyed, but of course she's been up all night guiding the ship through the mountains. Her curly cinnamon-colored hair is tied back in a bandana, giving her a commando look. 

Next to her, Frank is dressed in black workout pants and a Roman tourist T-shirt what says CIAO! His old centurion badge is pinned to his shirt, despite the fact that we're now public enemies Number 1 through 8 back at Camp Jupiter. His grim expression reinforces his unfortunate resemblance to a sumo wrestler. Then there's Nico. He sits back in his leather aviator jacket, his black T-shirt and jeans, that wicked silver skull ring on his finger, and the Stygian sword in the holder in the seat, which I appreciate someone is using. His tufts of black hair stick up in curls like baby bat wings. His eyes are sad and kind of empty, as if he's stared into the depths of Tartarus, which I now remember he has. 

The only one not here is Piper., who is taking her turn at the helm with Coach Hedge, who I am very glad did not find Leo and I in the engine room. 

I hadn't meant to fall asleep, but I'm surprised Leo stayed with me. We've both been so preoccupied running the quest that we've barely had time with each other. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy he stayed. That was the best sleep I've had since camp. I wasn't plagued with nightmares like I usually am. I felt warm and safe and happy, for the first time in a long time. But I'm still surprised. He risked getting reamed by Hedge to stay with me. I try and hide the smile that threatens to creep onto my face. 

I'm so zoned out I don't realize Jason is still talking. 

"-the House of Hades," he's saying. "Nico?"

Nico sits forward. "I communed with the deaad last night."

He just tosses the line out there, like he's saying he got a text from a buddy.