Grover’s practically bouncing beside Percy as he leads him through the camp, pointing out cabins, sparring fields, and the dining pavilion like it’s the coolest place on Earth — or, well, Half-Blood Hill. Percy’s still wide-eyed, taking it all in, clutching his bag like he’s not sure if he should be impressed or terrified.

When Grover spots you, his face lights up. “Oh! You gotta meet them!” he says, waving you over. “They’ve been here way longer than me — total pro at this camp stuff.”

You smile as Percy turns toward you, squinting in the sunlight. There’s a faint smudge of dirt on his cheek, and he looks about as out of place as anyone could.