Page 77 of The Wild Zone

Zuri shrugged his hand away. “That’s great for you, but some people aren’t healers. And some people can’t be healed!”

She stormed out of the infirmary.

Harper and I shared another look. My keen deductive senses told me that Zuri had been upset about something more than just having to work in the infirmary for a couple of hours.

“Sorry about that,” said Lee. “Zuri’s a good person, but…” He faltered, apparently not sure what to add. “Anyway, Harper, you’re welcome to stay until you feel better.”

“Actually, I’m good.” Harper set the ice pack on a table and tried for a smile. The swelling had faded. The cut had healed into a thin white scar. His mouth was still orange, like he’d been gorging on Cheetos, but otherwise he looked okay. “Thank you for the help.”

We left Lee and Will to finish pulling cactus spines out of Elam’s posterior and hurried out of the Big House, hoping to catch Zuri. But she was nowhere in sight.

“She’ll be okay, right?” Harper asked.

“Sure,” I said.

Neither of us sounded very convinced, but we parted ways, promising to catch up later. Harper continued on toward the cabins—no doubt to wash off all the orange ambrosia stains—and I headed toward the armory to get in a little practice with my scythe.

On the way, I passed Shane, just coming back from the climbing wall.

“Hey, is Harper all right?” he asked.

“Totally.” I gave him a thumbs-up and kept walking. Harper would kill me if I shared any details that made him seem less than glamorous in front of Shane.

When I got to the armory, I tried out Olympia’s Celestial bronzer on the scythe. To my surprise, it worked pretty well. The blade took on the golden luster I’d seen on other kids’ magic weapons, making it look ancient and menacing rather than just old and beat-up.

When Nyssa Barrera came by, she gave the scythe a curious look but agreed to go a few rounds of combat practice with me. Even after a half hour of sparring, the scythe still held its Celestial bronze sheen. Olympia might not have known how to conjugate simple verbs, but she definitely knew her chemistry.

There was still no Zuri at lunch, but I decided not to worry just yet. A lot of people were off doing other things. Elam remained in the infirmary, either too sore or too embarrassed to show his face after the prickly pear incident. Half of the Hermes cabin, including Benny, was down at the camp store, getting ready for their Fifty-Percent Friday sale. Even Argus was absent, which I hoped meant he was personally delivering his request for help to Mount Olympus.

The only midday announcement came from Hobart, his satyr assistant, who reminded everybody that today was write-home day for those who had family out in the mortal world. Most of the campers seemed to take this news in stride. My cabinmates looked like they couldn’t wait to leave the table and write home about Elam’s cactus problem, or about me, the hopeless new kid who lost them the footrace. It was nice to feel loved.

After Clarisse dismissed us, I headed to the camp store for postcards and stamps. My throat tightened at the thought of sending notes that Mom and Olivia wouldn’t see, since of course, they weren’t home, but the only people who knew they were missing were…well, missing. And I was all about keeping up appearances.

The camp store was literally a pop-up. On one side of Cabin Eleven, the Hermes campers had designed a porch that could be lifted on hinges and pulleys and then unfolded into rows of shelves and clothes racks full of merch. The contraption was like some kind of capitalist Transformer.

The Stoll brothers were circulating among their customers with Benny in tow. Travis stood on one side of a camper, offering suggestions on types of magical bug repellent, while Connor stood on the camper’s other side, nodding and smiling. Then he slipped his right hand into the camper’s back pocket.

“Hey!” I said.

All of them turned to face me.

Connor waved with his right hand, which was empty. “Hey, Katie!”

“What can we help you with?” Travis asked.

The camper wandered away to do more browsing. Connor and Travis each put an arm around me and led me toward the register.

“Let’s talk over here,” Connor said. “Your voice carries.”

“Like a majestic foghorn,” Travis said with a polite smile.

I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Are you seriously picking your customers’ pockets?”

“Perish the thought! We’re simply teaching young Benjamin here a valuable skill.” Travis gestured to Benny, who sauntered over, rolling his eyes.

“They’re teaching me to reverse-pickpocket,” he said.

I squinted at Connor. “So you just put something in that kid’s pocket?”