Where You Go ― Jason Grace

xxx. the song of ophelia imai and maren russell

THE FIRST TIME Ophelia Imai and Maren Russell collided was when they were eleven, still naïve to the cruel nature of the Fates that had known their names since before their births. 

It was a well-known fact of the universe that outcasts tended to stick together, and at Camp Jupiter, Ophelia and Maren were the biggest outcasts of all—the girl ghosts flocked to and the girl that made the earth tremble at her feet.

Their friendship started without fanfare. One day, Ophelia made the decision to sit down across from the blonde-haired girl, the table empty but for the two of them. 

They didn't speak. They barely made eye contact. But the silence was more comforting than the whispers that followed them both.

Three days into the arrangement, the blonde finally spoke. "Why are you sitting with me?" Her tone was harsh and bitter—maybe too bitter for someone so young, but the life of a demigod was hard enough without being the child of a god no one liked. 

Ophelia shrugged. "Do you want me to leave?" she asked instead of answering. 

The blonde stared at Ophelia for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether Ophelia was playing some kind of elaborate practical joke that would end in humiliation. It was an understandable fear—children of Mercury had that kind of reputation around camp. 

"You can stay," the blonde muttered after a moment. 

"Thanks," Ophelia said. "I'm Ophelia." 

"Maren."

❖

On the edge of thirteen, the girls lounged underneath the shade of a redwood tree, one sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket, the other laying next to her.

"This sucks!" Ophelia exclaimed, angrily stabbing at the grass with a golden dagger. 

Maren lightly smacked Ophelia's arm. "Stop punishing the ground, Lia," she said, her tone amused. "It's not the grass's fault you hate that Grace kid." 

"Why do I have to go with him?" Ophelia practically growled. "Why couldn't I go with you? Or literally anyone else? Why do I have to with that stupid golden boy?"

"You wanted a quest," Maren said. "Grace is the price you pay, apparently."

Ophelia threw her dagger down into the grass next to her. "Everyone worships him," she grumbled. "All because his dad's the king of the gods. They all treat him like he's some great big hero, even though he's never even done anything besides a few stupid light shows and a bunch of meaningless errands for the gods." 

Maren laughed. "That's true," she agreed. "But at least it's not a long quest. You'll probably be back by Sunday at the latest. Then we can go to Bombilo's and celebrate you surviving your first quest."

Despite her annoyance, Ophelia couldn't help but smile at her best friend. "Promise?" 

The blonde held out her hand, extending a pinky. Ophelia curled hers around the girl's, and they lingered for a moment, something unexplainable passing between them.

Ophelia's cheeks were warm the whole walk back to the barracks.

❖

Not even a week later, the two girls laid on the same picnic blanket under the same redwood tree. The summer sun was warm and welcome against Ophelia's skin as she basked in it. One hand was tangled in the grass next to the blanket, pulling up blades of grass without a single care in the world. Her other laid at her side, her pinky locked with that of the girl laying next to her.