âItâs hot.â Gavin muttered under his breath as he slumped in his seat, placing his chin on the wooden table. An almost untouched plate of food rested inches from his face. Normally, he would be scarfing down whatever was in front of him, but his stomach wouldnât settle for anything. Turns out the golden chariot, the satyrs, the sick all over his shirt, and the sun floating above his head were not a dream. That had been a huge shocker in the morning. Sickening worry began to nest in his stomach after that, making even the tastiest of food look unappetizing.
He would be found soon, the boy reasoned with his own panicked mind. Wellsmithâs would notice he was missing, they would find him, and take him back to England where everything made sense and it wasnât bloody fucking hot all the time. At home, the temperature never rose much more about twenty-six or twenty-seven Celsius. Gavin swore it had to be about thirty-two and he was starting to sweat through his shirt.
That was another thing that bothered him; he had spent his life in school with uniform and rules. Now, clad in only a t-shirt and a pair of shorts given to him, he felt underdressed. Granted, that was a good thing at the moment, as he nearly became a puddle of perspiration.
âIâm perfect.â Gavin grumbled and received a pat on the back in response. However, Carson/Cameron/Caleb/whatever recoiled his hand in disgust when he realized that Gavinâs back was covered in sweat.
Caleb smiled uneasily, playing with the bright pink frame of his sunglasses. âWell, eat up. We have archery practice next.â
âArchery?â Gavin perked up considerably, the first semblance of a smile crossing his face.
Wellsmithâs never encouraged violence of any sort. Weapons were banned on campus, and it was a strong belief that violence belonged in the realm of the common man. Archery was a noble sport, Gavinâs mother had always said, but Wellsmithâs heartily disagreed. That still didnât stop his mum from getting him a proper bow and arrow and allowing him to smuggle it to school. As piles and piles of books were forced upon him, Gavin found comfort in the one thing he truly excelled in: archery.
The heat bothered him less as he plodded along behind the gaggle of Apollo campers. This was nothing like any summer camp Gavin had ever attended. These werenât stuffy kids in polo shirts learning how to tie knots and use compasses. Around him activity flourished as kids brandished swords, spears, shields, and axes, learning to fight and defend. It was fascinating, honestly. As much as Gavin wanted to be frightened, he couldnât hide the awe on his face.
âI suggest taking a target on the ends,â Caleb suddenly swooped in beside him, nearly causing Gavin to jump out of his skin. âWe give the younger campers the middle ones so the counselors can keep an eye on them. They tend to fire their arrows a bit toward your face.â The boy rubbed a spot on his leg for emphasis and shot Gavin a pained look before heading toward the middle, waving to a group of children, that couldnât be older than nine, holding pointy arrows.
Gavin took Calebâs suggestion and moved toward the edge of the range, picking the second to last target. A girl with pretty blonde hair took the one to his right, and the last target remained without a camper. At least, that was the case for the first fifteen minutes.
âOh shit, not again.â The girl next to him muttered, and for a moment Gavin thought she had missed the target. Then he realized that would be stupid, noticing the three arrows that were buried deep into the bullseye. Instead, he followed her gaze toward the path beside the range to see someone stomping in their direction.
âWho is that?â Gavin barely got out of his mouth before the stranger had placed his quiver down next to him.
The new kid was solid with wide-shoulders and a head of the curliest brown hair Gavin had ever seen. It was being smothered with a knit cap that was completely unnecessary in the brutal sun. âWhat does it matter to you?â The kid spat in the dirt near Gavinâs feet.
Gavin had met bullies at Wellsmithâs, but none were this big. âPrick.â He muttered under his breath as he knocked another arrow, taking a deep breath as he fell into position. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the new boy staring at him intensely, copying his motions.
They released their arrows at the same time. There was a loud thunk and Gavin threw his fists in the air when his arrow struck right into the bullseye. âTop!â
âMotherfucker.â The voice next to him raged. Before Gavin could turn his head, the boy already had another arrow ready and launched it. It landed near the first, about a foot away from the target to the right. In rapid succession, the boy launched arrow after arrow with such force that they started to fly right over the target.
âCalm down and take a deep breath, you just need toââ Gavin tried to suggest, reaching for the kidâs arm to move it into correct position. What he received instead was that elbow to the nose. There was a sharp crack and Gavin stumbled backward, clutching his face. âYou tosser, what the fuck was that for?â He shouted, pain exploding across his face.
âI donât want any of your help,â The kid howled, stamping his foot.
It was barely five seconds before Caleb ran over, still clutching his bow. âJONES. What the fuck are you doing here?â He growled, standing as if to shield Gavin. âI thought that Ares kids were down at sword training.â
âScrew sword training, itâs dumb.â Jones crossed his arms. âForget it, Iâm leaving!â The kid threw his arms up in the air and stormed away, leaving his quiver and bow behind.
Gavin finally pulled his fingers away from his nose, which throbbed. Blood had spilled out into his fingers and down onto his shirt. âBollocks, that hurt a lot.â He muttered, trying to keep the tears from spilling. He definitely wanted to go back to Wellsmithâs. No one hit him there.
Caleb rested a hand on his shoulder. âAres kids are a real pain in the ass.â He glared in the direction the kid left. âAnd Michael Jones is one of the worst. I swear that kid is easier to set off than a bomb.â He rolled his eyes. âLetâs go get you cleaned up. You donât need to spend the rest of the day in a blood and sweat-soaked shirt.â
Turned out that Caleb was pretty damn good at first-aid. His nose was quickly reduced in size, the swelling gone down with a few words and some strange-smelling medicine. âApolloâs children are excellent healers. Weâll start teaching you soon enough.â The bleeding stopped and the pain was a dull throb.
Caleb pulled away, tugging the rubber gloves off his hands. âThat is all I can do for now.â He tossed them in the trash with the small mountain of bloody tissues. âI need to grab the kiddos from the range, youâre welcome to stay here until we get back.â
He disappeared out the door and Gavin fell back onto his bunk with a huff. This place was awful. He wanted to go home. Well, as much of a home that was left in England. His eyes shifted toward the door and noticed a quiver and bow leaning against the wall. The front of the quiver was marked with an angry red boar; it had to be that kid, Michaelâs.
It was stupid to consider it, especially when it was the kid that just elbowed him in the nose, but Gavin rose from the bed and collected the gear. Outside the cabins, kids rushed about on their business. In the early afternoon sun, the heat was almost unbearable as he stood, a moment of confusion passing over him as he glanced from one building to the other. Which one was Ares?
Then it was obvious as he spotted the atrocious red building with barbed wire on the roof. With a gulp, he knocked on the door, flinching when it opened almost immediately. A girl leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed. She was very pretty with blonde hair and a large ring sticking out of her nose. âWhat do you want?â She stared down at him. Her tone was harsh, but the smile on her face said otherwise.
âI think these belong to Michael.â He said, holding up the bow and quiver.
âYeah, I already heard about his temper tantrum at the firing range.â She shrugged, turning into the cabin. âHey Michael, get over here. Thereâs an Apollo kid here with your stuff!â
There was a loud stomping inside the cabin and then Michael appeared, still red-faced and frowning. He snatched the bow and quiver from Gavinâs hands, and turned to the girl. âGriffon, can I talk to him without you hovering? I promise not to beat the shit out of him.â
âGood enough for me.â The girl shrugged, disappearing into the cabin and closing the door behind her.
âSorry about probably breaking your nose, I was mad.â Michael looked down toward the ground.
âItâs okay, I guess. Just please donât do it again.â
âAnd I wanted to ask, Griffon would laugh if she heard me ask.â He muttered shaking his head. âYouâre new in camp, and youâre already good at archery, and I guess thatâs better for me. â He started to ramble on, and Gavin was lost. âAww fuck it. Can you help me with archery? I want to be good at something.â
For a moment, Gavin was stunned. This kid had just bashed him in the nose, and now he was asking for archery lessons? Guess it was less embarrassing, whatever this kidâs problem was, Gavin didnât know it. And it wouldnât hurt to be friends with him, Gavin was at a complete lack of those.
âYeah, Iâll do it.â
Michael looked stunned, then almost angry, and finally broke out into a smile. âThanks dude, youâre cool.â He disappeared into the cabin just as Gavin noticed, from the corner of his eye, the group of Apollo kids returning to the cabin.
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