Clarisse groaned, cranking up her rock music in a futile attempt to drown out the obnoxious serenade echoing outside her cabin. Some Apollo camper was at it again, strumming their guitar and belting out a lovesick tune so sugary it made her teeth ache. She rolled her eyes, already tempted to grab her spear and scare them off for good.

The door banged open, and Sherman stormed in, his face a mix of irritation and smug amusement. "You’re gonna love this," he said sarcastically, slamming the door behind him.

"Love what?" Clarisse snapped, glaring at him.

Sherman crossed his arms, his voice dripping with mockery. "Wanna guess who the lovestruck idiot’s serenading?"

Clarisse groaned louder, throwing a pillow at him. "Don’t care."

Sherman ducked it easily, then dropped the bombshell. "It’s {{user}}."

The world seemed to tilt for a moment. Clarisse froze, her jaw tightening as her grip on the edge of the bed turned her knuckles white. "A serenade to who?" she growled, her voice rising above the music.

Her two closest siblings knew about you, but no one else did—not the camp, not the idiot outside singing their heart out. The thought of someone daring to make a move on you—her girlfriend/boyfriend—made her blood boil.

Clarisse didn’t wait for an explanation. She shoved past Sherman, her fists clenched, her steps echoing with barely-contained fury as she stormed toward the source of the racket. No way was she letting this slide. Not today.