When I finally opened my eyes I had no idea who I was, let alone where I was. Everything was unfamiliar.

I was lying in some sort of cot, with two pillows propping up my back and head against a wall. I began to scan my surroundings for a friendly, and hopefully, familiar face - but there was no such luck.

The place was kind of like an old fashioned, and I mean ancient, battlefield infirmary. There were wooden podiums all around me, some covered with cloth and animal hides, to keep the sun out.

I tilted my aching head slowly to get a better look at campers in orange t-shirts rushing to other campers' aids; there were unfamiliar coughs and groans of sick and wounded kids all around me. When I say wounded, I don't mean paper cuts or bruises - I mean bloody gashes and broken limbs. Multiple broken limbs.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the camper in the cot next to me with an arrow stuck straight through his calf. He was covered in dirt, and sweat. I watched him bite down on a damp towel while two girls, who couldn't have been older than twelve, tried to pull out the arrow.

Nope. That was it, I was out of here.

I tried to sit up straight and get on my feet, but my head began to throb even worse than before. The room around me started to spin like the California State Fair tilt-a-whirl going full speed. My mouth felt like someone had stepped on my tongue and used it to wipe their shoe, and my stomach was churning like an old laundry machine working overtime.

"Woah, woah, woah. Slow down," an unfamiliar voice caught me off guard. I felt a figure quickly rush to my side.

I immediately assumed it was some happy-go-lucky volunteer camper who came to my aid, but when I finally turned to the voice I realized the boy wasn't at all some happy-go-lucky camper; he looked more freaked out than I was.

He couldn't have been older than eighteen. The boy had deep sea green eyes that changed color in the light. He had pitch black, unruly surfer hair that looked like it hadn't been washed, like ever, and a permanent smirk that told me he was nothing but trouble. The boy had an aura to him that screamed troublemaker but I couldn't help but feel lured in by his powerful presence. 

He took me into his arms and began to set me back onto the cot, clearly avoiding my face in case I hurled, which would be just my luck. I tried not to think about the tightness in my stomach and focused on the boy's nice smelling shirt; he smelt just like the ocean. Tied around his neck was a beaded necklace with six clay beads that hung over the same orange t-shirt the other campers were wearing. My eyes caught the bold black writing. It almost took me forever to make the words out as Camp Half-Blood.

"Who are you?" I held my throbbing head in my hand as I studied the boy in front of me further.

"You're new here, right?" The mystery camper ignored my question and handed me an ice pack.

"I asked you first," I groaned.

"Percy Jackson," the boy extended his hand to me.

"New girl," I took his hand with the one that wasn't holding the ice pack to my head.

"You have a name new girl? Do you even know who your parent is?"

"I'm not sure and I have no idea," I assumed he was talking about my real godly dad and not the one thousands of miles away from me.

"So you have a concussion and you're undetermined."

I scoffed. This guy was already trying to analyze me. "What are you, a shrink?"

He held his hands up in defense, but I could see a smirk itching to surface on his smug face. "I'm just holding down the fort while Grover and Danny get you nectar."

"Nectar? What is that supposed to be?"

Danny beat Percy to an answer.

"Think of it as...medicine." I heard my best friend's voice in the infirmary and immediately felt more at ease.

Next to Danny was an awkward, acne prone, ginger haired boy with a goatee; he looked like a twenty year old going through puberty. He was in the same shirt as Percy and wore a multi- colored out of date Rasta hat. The guy reminded me like someone you'd see at a Bob Marley tribute concert. My guess was that he was probably way into nature, scared of phones and a vegetarian just like Danny.

Oh, and he was half goat too. But I wasn't going to pass out this time. Hopefully.

"Hey, Ri." Danny sheepishly sat on the edge of my cot and took my hand for the second time in the past week. Out of nowhere, all my memories came flooding back.

Bull-man, the two day car ride to New York, my parents dumping me at a hill, and my best friend's hairy hindquarters. My temporary comfort wore off as quickly as it had arrived. The memory of Danny's goat legs flashed through my mind for the second time and I began to feel nauseous again almost immediately.

"I think I'm going to be sick," I groaned and clutched my stomach with one of my clammy, shaking hands.

Danny quickly caught on and motioned to the red haired boy to hand him a cup of what looked like iced tea.

"You're a goat," I recalled my last conscious moments before passing out. Sure enough, my eyes wandered to my friends lower half. No crutches, just hooves, white fur and two grey baby horns poking over his hair. It was true. My best friend was half farm animal.

"The correct term is satyr," his ginger friend let out an annoyed bleat.

"Orion, before you pass out again just drink this. Please," Danny ignored his friend and handed me the glass of mysterious honey colored liquid. 

Oddly enough, the drink looked incredibly appetizing - a maraschino cheery was stuck through a paper umbrella and a slice of pineapple hung off the side of the glass. Is this what they offered all the new kids who were in denial about who they were?

My mouth felt like sandpaper and my throat felt itchy and dry. I took the glass from him without a second thought and sucked the life out of the plastic pink crazy straw sticking out of the glass.

Wow.

You know how your parents have probably told you once in your life not to accept candy or strange food from strangers? Well, I was happy to say I was never one to follow rules. This stuff was spectacular. 

I expected the liquid to taste like honey, some gross medicine, or maybe a combination of the two, but it was way better. It tasted just like...liquid cake. Chocolate cake. My mom's double chocolate cake, with homemade buttercream frosting. Exactly like the one she had made me for my birthday. All of the fear, discomfort, fatigue and anger I had pent up inside melted away. I felt calm, like Danny being a goat was normal. Like my parents didn't just dump me at a strange camp where I didn't know anyone.

Sluuuuuuuurp.

Before I even realized it, I had sucked up all the liquid out of the glass. I wasn't at home with my parents. I wasn't normal. I was at a weird camp, in an infirmary surrounded by half human boys. Every girl's dream.

I turned to look at Percy, who was studying me intently. 

"Can I have another one?"

"Not unless you want to turn to ash," he tried to suppress a smile.

I nearly choked on what was left of the drink. "W-what?"

Percy shook his head. "Never mind. How do you feel?"

"Good. Really good. Like I could fight bull-man all over again."

His eyes went wide. "Wait, she found the Mino-"

"Shut up, man," Danny cut him off. "You know better than to use names. But yes, she fought him just like you did." My best friend beamed with pride at the memory of my victory.

"You fought the bull-man too?" I gawked at the strange camper in front of me.

"Yeah. Except I was twelve," Percy smiled smugly, obviously proud of his accomplishment at such a young age.

"Show-off," the red haired satyr teased before Percy nudged him playfully. The two began to wrestle like brothers and I wondered if the red haired guy was Percy's protector, like Danny was mine.

"Grover? Where is she?" A steady voice boomed through the infirmary, cutting off my thoughts about Percy and the ginger haired goat. The voice wasn't scary, but it was strong and confident, and that was enough to scare me. Especially when I was new around here.

"Over here, sir," the red haired guy, Grover I assumed, responded without even blinking.

A bearded man with shaggy auburn hair and easily ten feet tall began to make his way over to my cot. I could only make out the sound of hooves clicking on the wooden floor, paired perfectly with the man's movement...was he half goat too?

When I saw his full body I was almost glad I had whatever it was Danny and Grover gave to me, otherwise I would have been knocked out cold all over again.

His top half was human, like Grover and Danny, but his bottom half wasn't goat or bull. It was a full snow colored pinto. Four hooves. And a long cream colored tail. The whole package. Danny wasn't kidding. Chiron really was a centaur.

"Orion Vera, welcome. We've been expecting you." He looked at me as if he knew exactly who I was.

"My name is Orion Carter," I puffed out my chest and corrected the horse man, who I assumed ran the camp. He might as well know my real name if he was looking for me that badly.

He didn't look offended by my cold response, but instead smiled down at me as if I merely amused him. "Chiron, trainer of heroes. Pleased to meet you,"

"Yeah, um, you too." I tried with every ounce of strength in me not to look down at his horse half, but my ADHD brain couldn't resist. His hooves shuffled and twitched on the dirt floor, just like a real horse's.

These people must take Halloween to the next level.

"Join me?" Chiron tilted his head as if to gesture for me to follow him. I looked to Danny for approval and he smiled as if to say, 'Go for it.' I trusted Chiron; nothing about him implied that he was anything like the bickering men from my dreams or the crazy bull-man from the beach.

Warily, I began to lift myself off of the cot. I half expected to collapse on the floor underneath me, but I felt strong, renewed and ready to take on whatever Chiron had in store for me.

When Chiron said 'join me', I didn't think he was offering to give me a full on pony ride, but he scooped me up effortlessly in his arms, swung me over his back and galloped through the strange camp. I was left clinging onto his human half, eyes closed tight, praying that I wouldn't hurl...or die.