Face to Face

[Keegan Harrow]

Keegan stood at the base of the hill, looking upward at the spindly figure of a pine tree at its precipice. Suspicion and uncertainty marred his features, and his tawny eyes shifted to and fro. He was ready, as always, to spring into action as soon as a threat presented itself. He'd come all the way from Virginia to this place just on the word of a stranger. He was that hopeful, that desperate, to find something solid to stand on. He needed some truth in his life.

For a moment, he just stared and listened to the wind whispering through the trees nearby. He watched the pine tree sway. Through the thick leather of his coat, he couldn't feel a thing. Even though the weather was pleasant today, he still wore the coat out of practicality. He only had a backpack and a baseball bat with him; if he chose to take it off there would simply be no place to put it.

As he exhaled, Keegan stepped forward and began to trudge up the gently sloping hill. He left everything to come here. He had to know for sure--was he insane? Was he seeing things? The doctors certainly thought so... but what shrink could explain the jagged scars across his back, the memory of teeth against his neck, and foul breath seeping into his nostrils? He could have always accepted their proposals, taken their medication, and maybe sat in an asylum eventually... but before accepting that fate, he might as well do something equally nutty.

At the top of the hill, he stopped, staring down at the strange sight before him. To his Mist-immune eyes, everything was clear. It was part farm, part summer camp. He quirked a half-smile. At least it was real, whatever this Half-Blood Camp was.

Just seeing it gave him hope--maybe he really was the child of a god.

[Cynthia Wood]

<sup>Joseph went out of his way to welcome everyone that came to the camp. With satyrs recruiting for the imminent war, there were usually about two new arrivals per week. Joe would meet and become friends with every single one of them if it killed him. This was, of course, not including the times when satyrs got desperate for new recruits and accidentally brought any little mortal kid who smelled funny or looked promising to the camp. This had been a major problem during both Halloween and the launch of Chanel’s new fragrance that was apparently created by a daughter of Aphrodite who got into the fashion business. The Gods were not happy that their smell was imitated, and for the monsters, it was like a fat person going on an aroma diet.

His logic was that any new demigod had to be better than the ones currently at Camp Half-Blood. Joe did like all of his friends. He just didn’t want to be around them. That made friendship a little bit more difficult for Joseph. It wasn’t that Joe wanted new demigods because he wasn’t a nice person. He wanted new demigods because he was a very nice person! He even brought balloons every single time he went to check for new arrivals! They were deflated, but that just made them more fun! The new demigod would get to decide what to fill it with. Hermes kids were currently developing a lava-proof balloon for when practical jokes got out of hand.

“Hello!” Joe greeted joyfully, bounding up to the approaching boy. It was like playing dodgeball, talking to Joe when he was excited. Except all the balls were on Joe’s side of the court, and he was able to throw very, very quickly. “What’s your name? Are you new here? I would know you’re name if you weren’t new. I’ll remember your name after you tell me, too. Promise. I love learning names. I want to be a tour guide when I grow up, you know? People say I have really nice vocal projection, so that would be nice. I think that’s a nice thing for them to say. Wait! I have something for you.” Joe rummaged around in the pocket of his blazer for a second before pulling out a deflated balloon. “Ta da!” He said weakly. “Welcome to Camp Ha- wait, one second.

Joe glanced over at a tree as if examining an invisible line that stretched away from it. He grabbed the new boy’s hand and pulled at him, bringing him across the intangible boundary. “Oh, okay, no worries! Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.” Then, flaunting his complete disregard for personal space, Joe flung his arms around Keegan in a horribly uncomfortable man hug. “You’re my family now almost!” Joe proclaimed. “You can just call me Brother Joe. Frater Joe. Hermano Hoe – actually, please don’t pronounce that with a Spanish accent. It’s like my friend, Gussie. It was made for this language.”</sup>

[Keegan Harrow]

After being bombarded with many questions, forced to touch a tree for some bizarre reason, and the victim of an uncomfortably long man-hug, Keegan was more or less speechless.

When released, he simply blinked at Joe and waited for him to quit talking--although he was beginning to doubt whether or not that was truly possible. One of his ruddy eyebrows twitched upward at the other's antics.

"Ohhkkayyy... I see. But what about Joe Bro?" He asked with a small grin. Dismissing the comment immediately (for fear of Brother Joe going on another long, slightly irrelevant speech), he tacked on, "And my name is Keegan. Keegan Harrow. I'm from Virginia--I've been looking for this place.

"Can I ask you something? Something kind of... weird?" Keegan smiled again, this time with strain. Although all the signs were pointing in the right direction, he needed to hear the exact words that could confirm his hope. While he waited for a response, his hand slipped into his pocket and wrapped around an old, empty orange pharmaceutical tube that used to hold his hallucination medication. He clenched it tightly in his fist, feeling his fingers slide into the warped bumps that came from his habitual squeezing of the plastic.

Keegan suddenly felt self-conscious, a foreign concept to him. He shuffled on his feet and exhaled sharply, eyes dancing around Joe's face as he struggled to put his question into a coherent sentence.

He leaned forward just a tad, and when he spoke it was hushed. His light brown eyes finally connected with Joe's as he spoke, "This is the, erm... Greek camp, right? The one that can... uhm... help me?"

[Cynthia Wood]

<sup>Joe opened his mouth to shoot down the name “Joe Bro”. He had tried to copyright the nickname, but there was nothing the Jonas Brothers couldn’t get to first. Copycatting bastards. He would have set the record straight, but Joe hadn’t realized how irritating it was when someone continued to talk before you could respond. This might have been the start of an epiphany for him.

“We prefer the term ‘Strawberry Farm’, you know? The counselors, and I, because the meetings would be so busy and stressful if I weren’t there to supervise, decided that ‘Greek Camp’ wasn’t going along with our equal opportunity thing where we let all the Norse and Celtic and Egyptian and Japanese idiots- I mean, people into the camp. They’re all gods’ children, you know?” Joe flashed Keegan his unfortunate silent laugh, which was basically just a huge smile with his shoulders shaking a little bit for extra effect. “But yes, this is a Greek Camp. And it is most likely the one that will help you.”

He punched Keegan lightly in the shoulder, although knowing Joe’s strength (or lack thereof), it could have been Joe being vindictive. That was why Joe loved new arrivals. They knew how to take him seriously. “I’ll bring you to Chiron, then. He’s probably the one that helps people.” Joe sincerely hoped that Keegan retained the belief that this camp was created to help demigods. That wasn’t what most of them believed after living at this camp for over five years, especially during wartime.

“There’s nothing to worry about, though.” Joe had sympathetic nerves. Keegan was pretty obviously anxious about being at the camp. There wasn’t that much of a reason for that. For a camp of the cruelest people Joe had ever met, they really accepted everyone. Unless you were Egyptian, but there had to be some boundaries in the camp. “No worries.”</sup>