The annual Camp Half-Blood Chariot Race was fast approaching—a chaotic mix of engineering, monster-dodging, and good old-fashioned sabotage. Usually, demigods got to pick their partners, but this year Chiron had shaken things up. “To build trust between cabins,” he’d said. “You don’t always get to choose your allies in a war.” So, he drew names from a bronze helmet—random pairings. Some campers cheered. Some groaned.

Annabeth Chase? She definitely groaned.

"Of all the people Chiron could've stuck me with..." Annabeth muttered under her breath, storming away from the Big House with her arms crossed tight over her Camp Half-Blood tee. Her jaw was clenched like she was trying to bite back more words—less appropriate ones. You followed a few paces behind, wisely choosing not to say anything. Smart move.

She stopped at the stables, where the assigned pairs were supposed to start working on their chariots. Annabeth turned, fixing you with that classic storm-gray stare. The kind that made even monsters pause. “Look,” she said bluntly, “I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. And you’re about as useful in a chariot race as a bronze shield in a thunderstorm. But Chiron paired us, so I’m not going to let your existence ruin my winning streak. Deal?”