On The Outside, Looking In

A solo story by LCT

Cast of Character:

Rukh Underhill - Main Character

Chapter 1
"Ok, Mr. Smith. You already have the speedboat, the Guy's Week in Rio vacation package, and the hot new sports car. Are you going to keep them? Or do you want tot trade them for what is behind door number 2?" The greasy game show host asks the nervous looking contestant.

"I...I don't know...it a lot to risk, but...", the contestant bites his nails as the audience eggs him on to risk it all in hopes of an epic payday or an epic flop. "I'll take the door!"

"He took the door! Constance, please open the door and show him what he traded for!" The host points to some bleach blonde barbie doll with a plastic smile who waves as she reveals the prize. The audeince groans as the alternative prize comes into view and the contestant drops to his knees in horror at his bad decision.

I stop the video and set iPod aside. I already knew what would happen. I have watched that clip about a hundred times already. Am I some nut that likes vintage TV game shows? No, not really. That particular clip just reminds me of my mom in a way. Her house is door number 2 and if there is a gift to be found behind that door, then it is a gift far more valuable than most people realize.

Oh, sorry. I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Rukh. Rukh Underhill. And I am a long time resident of Camp Half-Blood. It is a home away from home for the half-blooded children of the gods. Although in my case, that description doesn't fit exactly right, so I guess that is why I am a bit of a social outcast around here.

Most of the residents here come from a long line of mortals, or muggles for those die-hard bookworms out there. A chance encounter with a god and BAM, half-blood potential hero is the result. Most of the half-bloods get killed or disappear long before they ever have a chance to have kids of their own, so being a second generation descendant of the gods is rare enough. Even when that does happen, the other parent is usually a mortal again, so the child is quarter blood and may not ever have any divine ability surface.

Now we get to my case. I am seven-eighths blood of the gods. Not only did my dad survive long enough to hook up with a goddess, but my grandfather did the exact same thing in his day. The end result, a "hero" who is such a monster magnet that it is forbidden for me to leave camp or even visit the camp forest right after a monster restocking or else I risk putting a lot of lives at risk.

Satyrs typically run for the hills when I walk by, but I did ask one who tripped and fell once what it is that drives them away. In between dramatic gasps for breaths he blurted out that I apparently smell like a large herd of skunks that wandered into a tire factory on fire. Of course the nymphs around camp can apparently smell me too and they say pretty much the opposite, that I smell like I am made of ambrosia and bathe in nectar or something close to that. I have yet to figure out if the smell really is different to different people or if one group is just lying to me.

So what about the other campers? Surely in my years at camp, I have been able to scrape together at least a few friends or even allies...or acquaintences. Nope. A lot of it is political. You see not many people like my mom, Hera. Ok, I know what you may be thinking. "Isn't Hera the good wife and would never cheat on her no-good husband?" Well, that part is true. She is not actually my birth mother. But she adopted me at a very young age and has been mom to me ever since. And then my actual parentage pretty well alienates me from the rest.

Cabin 1 won't give me the time of day, since they don't want to say anything that might get their dad in trouble. Pretty much the same with any campers in cabin 3. 9 still holds a grudge against mom for past wrongs, so they are out of the question. And cabin 10, my real mother's cabin, they can't stand me at all. They only reason they hold a bed spot over there for me is they can murder me in my sleep. They are just a tad bit resentful at how much time my birth mom spends trying to win me back over to her side.

As for the other campers, well let's just say that my birth mom went a bit overboard with her bribes and most people either get tongue-tied or raging jealous if I say anything more than hello in passing. So aside from evening card games with Mr D, who is my great-grandfather by the way, I am pretty much just a side show around here. I see glimmers of hope here and there though, so I keep at the routine as best I can. Mom assures me it will all pay off eventually. I guess we will see.

Chapter 2
...under constructions