The ride from England to New York in a sparkling golden chariot carried by flying pegasi was probably a spectacular sight. With the ocean glittering below in the evening sun as they flew over time zones, losing six hours in the process of traveling maybe three, tops. Gavin would have loved it if he hadn’t been huddled on the floor of it, leaning into the corner, trying his hardest not to lose his lunch over the side.
He clutched his knees to his chest and buried his face into the crevice, taking deep breaths to calm his stomach. Every couple of minutes, his eyes would close for a millisecond before the chariot was buffeted by the wind, the sway jolting him out of desperately wanted sleep. This satyr had woken him up in the middle night, begging him to come before something worse happened.
Gavin had figured that this was just a terrible dream, allowing himself to be dragged from bed despite the very important rule of ‘stranger danger’ and followed the goat-man to his golden chariot. At that moment, he was certain that this was just a hyper-realistic dream. Wouldn’t be the first time he had experienced something like this.
However, as they flew over the water and Gavin’s stomach threatened to revolt, he wasn’t as definite as before.
“Sorry sir.” Gavin groaned, closing his eyes and trying to shrink further into the chariot, the cold metal pressing into his back. He wanted off this crazy ride. This was supposed to be a dream, not actually taking him miles from home. Well, kind of home. Real home had disappeared a year ago with Mum, after that Wellsmith Boy’s Academy was supposed to be ‘home’. That didn’t go quite as planned as well.
Honestly, at this point, Gavin’s whole life had been plans that didn’t go well. From an absent father, to boarding school, to not being there for Mum, not being able to say goodbye. The boy buried his head further into his knees, willed everything to go away, and for him to reappear in his bed.
When he did wake up, the metal of the chariot had grown warm with his heat and the ground had reappeared under the wheels. The satyr, Matt, had hopped from the base. Gavin got to numb legs, swaying uneasily as he used the edge of the chariot to steady himself. He was barely five steps from the golden platform when he took a few running steps to the nearest bush.
“Better there than in my chariot.” Matt muttered, patting the sick teenager on the back.
“It’s all over my shirt,” Gavin groaned, a track of tears running down his cheeks. His knees knocked together, his legs had turned to jello and threatened to send him to the ground. The evening sun was setting just beyond the trees and a heavy humidity that Gavin had never felt before in England settled on his chest.
Then the sound of wheels grinding against the ground and new a set of hooves startled the pair. Another chariot, not as impressive as the one Gavin had just ridden in, touched the ground.
“Burnie!” Matt called; waving a hand to another satyr that had a scary-looking teenager roughly by the collar. Gavin couldn’t help but notice one of the sleeves on the kid’s jacket was a ruddy brown with, what he was certain, was blood. The other kid jerked violently away from Burnie’s grip, the hoodie sliding off his arms in the process. A shout of pain escaped as the bloody sleeve ripped away from the wounds that decorated his tattooed arms.
Gavin shrunk behind Matt, as the tattooed kid whirled around to face Burnie. “I said to let go of me, now I’m bleeding again. Fuck.” His shouts dissolved into muttering as he snatched the jacket from the satyr’s hands and wrapped it around his bleeding arm.
“If you had just let me give you some ambrosia,”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been mugged. Knife-wielding thug, clawed harpy, whatever.”
“Mine only got sick all over his shirt. I think I win.” Matt piped up, receiving a dirty glance from both the satyr and the thuggish kid.
“Shut up, Matt.” Burnie grumbled, crossing his arms in a huff. “Let’s just get these two to Hermes cabin.” He whirled around to face tattoo kid. “Seriously Geoffrey, eat this. It will heal your arm.” He had a plastic baggie full of something, Gavin couldn’t quite tell. Geoffrey reached inside tentatively and put something square into his mouth.
The bright red wounds on his arm were suddenly swarmed by trails of pink, lacing together and closing the wound until all that remained was a shiny scar. Gavin could see Geoffrey struggle to hide a mixture of surprise and awe that crept across his face. He reached for another square when Burnie snatched the bag away and stuffed it into his sweater pocket. “It is possible for there to be too much of a good thing.” He warned.
Gavin trailed behind the two satyrs and Geoffrey as they walked through the ‘camp’. It seemed deserted as they passed a volleyball court and a rather large building that was decorated very brightly. “That’s the arts and crafts building.” A surprising voice informed Gavin as Matt fell in step beside him.
A distant roar of voices could be heard in the distance, in the direction of a rather large building, brightly lit in an orange glow. “And that is the amphitheater. It’s dinner time, that’s why this place may seem like a ghost town.” Gavin nodded along to show he was listening, but refused to open in his mouth in fear that he might get sick again.
“This is bullshit. I’m too old for summer camp.” Geoffrey spat into the grass beside him, a scowl marring his face.
“I should have let the harpy kill you.” Burnie snapped as they crossed a small river, a set of cabins looming on the horizon. “Would have been easier on my blood pressure.”
Their inevitable argument was cut short as someone loudly cleared their throat. It was a boy about Geoffrey’s age, his arms crossed firmly against his chest as he stomped over from a peeling brown cabin that contrasted with the marble and stone cabins that surrounded it. He brushed some of the floppy brown hair out of his eyes and huffed again, confirming that he had the attention of the small group. “You interrupted my dinner for this?” He asked with a voice too deep for his age.
“Ryan, I know that your cabin is full but—“ Burnie started, but fell silent as Ryan’s face turned beet red.
“Full? FULL? I am chasing around unclaimed, snot-nosed kids all day and you expect me to take in two more, especially when one is covered is vomit and the other in tattoos. Forget it, stick them with another cabin.”
Gavin’s stomach churned and burned, doubling over his knees. “I’m going to be sick, excuse me.” With a few stumbling steps, he made it to the nearest bush and emptied the last of his guts. A warm heat washed over him, golden light dancing across his arms in spots.
“Well, can you take one in Ryan?” He heard Matt say behind him. With weary eyes, Gavin glanced up above him. Shimmering in the air was a miniature sun, and if there had been anything left in Gavin’s stomach, he would have been sick all over again.
“What the fuck is that?” He asked weakly, pointing up at the symbol.
“Looks like Apollo doesn’t want his son sleeping with the thieves.” Ryan muttered bitterly, sliding his glance toward Geoffrey. “We can take tattoos, I have a feeling he will fit right in.”
Gavin steadied his shaking feet. “Apollo? Like Greek God of the Sun, Apollo?”
“As I told you kiddo, demigod.” Matt motioned dramatically to Gavin’s skinny frame. “Now, let’s find you a clean shirt and I’ll show you to your cabin.”
