I dared to glance over, but what I saw made no sense. Clarisse was lying on the ground where she’d fallen. Her armor smoked with poison. Annabeth and the Ares campers were trying to unfasten her helmet. And kneeling next to them, her face blotchy with tears, was a girl in camp clothes. It was…Clarisse. My head spun. Why hadn’t I noticed before? The girl in Clarisse’s armor was much thinner, not as tall. But why would someone pretend to be Clarisse?
