ALL: Gold, gold, gold, gold…

Talk about curb appeal! Tastefully decorated inside and out, these charming units are big on comfort and totally unique in style—one might even say each has its own personality! Of course, location is key, and you couldn’t ask for a better spot than this. The twenty cabins are within easy walking distance of all camp amenities as well as training and recreational facilities. Don’t see a unit dedicated to your particular godly parent? No worries! Once you’re claimed, one can be built to suit. In the meantime, pull up a bunk in Cabin Eleven and stay awhile!

WARNING! The divine cabins area is an active construction site, so please watch out for exposed nails, exploding blocks, and cracks that could plummet you to the Underworld.

For generations, Camp Half-Blood had only twelve cabins—one for each major Olympian deity. The odd-numbered cabins were dedicated to the Olympic gods, the even ones to the Olympic goddesses—except for Cabin Twelve, which Dionysus took over when Hestia gave him her seat on the Council of Olympus, but that’s another story. Anyway, after the Titan War, my kindhearted boyfriend, Percy, made the Olympians promise that all demigods, not just the kids of the major twelve, would have cabins of their own.

Which is just like Percy: doing something impulsive and compassionate, and making my life difficult in the process. See, I’m the camp’s resident architect, which meant that the task of designing all those new cabins fell to me.

Don’t get me wrong. I supported Percy’s plan one hundred percent. But after building units thirteen through sixteen—Hades, Iris, Hypnos, and Nemesis—the cabin area started to look cramped. I met with Chiron to discuss the problem.

“Space,” I told him, “could be an issue.”

“Any ideas?” Chiron asked.

I brainstormed aloud: “We build upward, combine new cabins into one tall complex. Demigods associated with the earth on lower levels, with the sky on top.”

Chiron shook his head. “Intriguing idea, but experience has shown me that demigods from different families don’t cohabitate well.”

“Okay, scratch that.” I pointed at the nearby forest. “What about tree houses? Enclosed platforms, elevated walkways, ladders, rope swings—”

Chiron cut me off. “The dryads wouldn’t go for it. And imagine what would happen if a demigod took to sleepwalking.”

“Caves?”

“Only one available, and Apollo has claimed it for his Oracle.”

“Houseboats?”

“Sleepwalking again, plus the naiads would nix it. Also, we need the lake for trireme practice.”

I cast around for inspiration. My eyes fixed on Hestia, who was tending her hearth in the center of the commons. You’d think a major Olympian goddess would attract a lot of notice sitting in the middle of camp, but Hestia came and went without any fanfare, usually in the shape of a young girl in plain brown robes. I hadn’t noticed her, because she was so small and low profile.

Small and low profile.

An idea hit me like a Zeus-thrown thunderbolt.

“I’ll get back to you tomorrow,” I told Chiron.

The old centaur chuckled. “I know that look. You have an idea.”

“Yeah,” I admitted. In fact, my brain was buzzing. “But I want to work out some details before I share it with you. See you at breakfast.”

That night I worked into the wee hours, pausing only to…well, to wee. In the morning I had my blueprints ready, but I still needed more time.

At breakfast, I broke the news to Chiron. “I want to set up a construction site in the southern woods.”

He furrowed his bushy eyebrows. “You’re not thinking of building the cabins there, are you? As I said, the dryads won’t—”

“I just need a secluded work area,” I said. “I won’t build anything big or permanent in that space. Trust me on this, okay?”

Chiron stroked his beard. “Well, you’ve never let me down before. And I do owe you for designing those centaur-size bathrooms for the Big House. Very well, Annabeth. You have my permission.”

The next days were a feverish blur of measuring, sawing, and hammering. By week’s end, I’d completed a full-scale model of my design, premounted on a wheeled platform for easy moving. I bribed my pegasus friends Blackjack and Porkpie with some donuts, and they agreed to haul my creation out of the woods and into the commons.

A few campers wandered over to see what I’d built. “It’s supercute!” gushed Lacy from the Aphrodite cabin. “But what is it?”

“A portable storage shed,” Clarisse La Rue guessed, eyeing the wheels. “Or a covered chariot. No, wait. It’s a rapid-deployment outhouse.”

“None of the above,” I replied, slightly offended. “I call it a tiny house. Check it out!”

I threw open the door and invited them in, a few at a time. The main sitting room was compact but perfectly livable. Two built-in cushioned benches along the walls doubled as beds. I lifted the cushions. “And see? There’s storage underneath the beds for your clothes, armor, weapons. It’s even long enough for that electric spear of yours, Clarisse.”

“Uh-huh.”

Clarisse sounded unimpressed, but that didn’t dampen my enthusiasm. I pointed to the narrow staircase against the back wall. “Upstairs is a loft with two more twin beds. Or it could be used as a game room, meeting area, whatever. I made the ceiling extra high so headroom isn’t an issue. Under the stairs is more built-in storage. But the best part is over here.”

I squeezed past them and rolled open a narrow pocket door in the corner. “Ta-da!”

“So it is an outhouse,” Clarisse said.

“It’s a private bathroom,” I corrected. “Whoever lives here never has to use the common facilities again.” I smirked at her, remembering the drenching Percy had once given her by blowing up the camp toilets. “You of all people should appreciate that.”

Clarisse reddened. “I’m coming down with claustrophobia.” She shoved past me and out the door.

I turned to Lacy. “You see the potential here, right? Microhouses are the future. This is cutting-edge architecture!”

She looked at the whitewashed walls, taupe cushions, and unadorned windows. “Well, it’s kind of…boring inside.”

“It’s only the model,” I said defensively. “Whoever lives here can decorate it however—”

A tap on the door interrupted me. Chiron poked his head in and frowned. “I would come in for a tour, but, ah, I fear there is no room.”

“Good luck,” Lacy whispered to me. Then she slipped past Chiron and hurried away.

I got out of the way so Chiron could come in and clop around the tiny house. It was large enough to accommodate him, but just barely. The entire walk-through took him about three steps.

When he emerged again, he looked deep in thought.

“It’s only the model,” I told him.

“Hmm?” He focused on me as if trying to process my words. Then he exhaled with relief. “Oh, a model. I see. In that case…yes, this might work.” He scanned the cabin area as if calculating the acreage. “We’ll need about four, don’t you think? Please proceed with construction.”