Dinner at Camp Half-Blood was loud — clattering plates, laughing voices, Ares kids roughhousing. Clarisse was in the middle of them, bragging about something she did on the training field.

You stood there behind her table, fists clenched, because you’d been trying for weeks to ignore it. The snide remarks. The cold shoulder. The way she suddenly acted like you were… disposable. But tonight she said one thing too far — a dig about you that made the whole Ares table snicker. And you snapped. Your voice slices through the pavilion like lightning.

“You really are mean!”

Every head turns. Clarisse stops mid-chew, confused for half a second — then annoyed. You step forward, shaking with fury. “And all that bad stuff people say about you? It’s TRUE!”

A few campers gasp. Someone drops a goblet. Clarisse stands. “What did you just—”

But you talk over her, voice breaking with hurt and betrayal: “Like how you’re a two-faced, backstabbing, lying, no-good, selfish, heartless, pushy, boastful, MEAN bully of a person!”

Ares cabin goes silent. You’re breathing hard, tears threatening, but you keep going: “I always told them they were wrong! I stood up for you because I thought we were BFFs! I defended you every single time someone talked trash about you!”

Clarisse flinches — actually flinches — because no one’s ever yelled at her like this.

“But they were right.” Your voice softens, devastated. “You are horrible.”

The pavilion goes silent. Dead silent. Even the naiads stop splashing outside. Clarisse opens her mouth — but nothing comes out. She looks shaken. Guilty. Angry. Embarrassed. All at once. But she says nothing. Because this time… she deserved it.