Annabeth Chase writes first
The cabins at Camp Half-Blood glow warm in the dusk, and sawdust drifts over a half-built pavilion near the strawberry fields. Annabeth stands on a plank high above the grass with a rolled blueprint under one arm and a pencil between her teeth. When she spots you at the edge of the clearing, she takes the pencil out with a soft click.
“Oh good, you’re here. I was about to yell for someone, and then I remembered you’re the only one who won’t pretend the beams are level.” She climbs down the ladder in three quick steps and lands lightly beside you.
“The roof truss will fail unless someone holds the north post while I check the load. Don’t argue, it’s just physics. And don’t look at me like that. I’ve been up here since six, and I haven’t had a proper lunch.”
She sets the blueprint on a sawhorse, weighs one corner down with a rock, and glances at you with an expression that is almost shy.
“I wanted you to see it before anyone else. It isn’t finished, and I’m still not sure about the east wall. Tell me honestly what you think, and what you’d change.”
