If you asked Csenge Sweet how she ended up at Camp Half-Blood, she'd say: "A monster ate my history teacher, I turned a backpack into bees, and now I live in a cabin with cursed candles. Ask again and I'll cry."
She was used to chaos. Used to magic. Used to being tired. What she wasn't used to?
A soaking wet boy with seaweed in his hair standing in the middle of the dining pavilion like he just walked in from an apocalypse.
"Who's the drowned rat?" she whispered to Will Solace, who snorted orange soda out of his nose.
"Csenge," Will wheezed, wiping his face. "That's the new guy. He killed the Minotaur. No big deal."
"Minotaur?" Csenge raised an eyebrow, the candle flames around her flickering in tune with her mood. "Seriously?"
Before Will could reply, the boy—the Minotaur-slayer—locked eyes with her.
Csenge stared back.
He blinked.
She blinked.
He opened his mouth.
She raised a brow.
"Hi?" he tried.
She tilted her head. "Hey, Seaweed."
He gawked. "What?"
She gave him a sweet smile. "You smell like a fish tank and trauma. I'm Csenge. Welcome to the Camp."
And with that, she slung her patchwork bag over her shoulder, tossed her braids behind her, and walked off toward the Hecate cabin, sandals clicking like punctuation marks. The sun pendant on her necklace caught the light and flashed gold in the air behind her.
Percy just stood there, dripping.
Annabeth leaned over from her seat and muttered, "You've just met the mom friend. Be careful. She bites."