47. i miss you like it was the very first night

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𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

chapter forty-seven ☄︎

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chapter forty-seven ☄︎. *. ⋆

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AT THE EDGE OF THE DUMP, we found a tow truck old enough to have been driven by my grandfather—on my godly side. But the engine started, and we had a tank full of gas, so we decided to borrow it.

Thalia drove. She didn't seem as shocked as the rest of us. She reminded us that the skeletons were still out there, which was a valid point. We needed to keep moving, as much as I wanted to rip apart the junkyard until we found Bianca and she was safe and okay and alive.

     I gripped the little statue she'd given me so hard my hands started to hurt. I couldn't tell what god it was supposed to be, but I guessed Nico would know. Oh, gods... Nico. What was I going to tell him? Maybe I wouldn't have to say anything. Maybe Bianca was still out there. But I had a bad feeling she was gone for good.

     Percy kept glancing over at me. I was afraid he was going to ask me if I was okay, because I was pretty sure if someone asked if I was "okay," I would burst into tears. Although on the other hand, I felt guilty at the thought of even crying over Bianca. After all, wasn't it my fault? Wasn't I the one that was supposed to stop Bianca, a young Hunter new to the life of gods and demigods, from running into a suicide mission?

     "It should have been me," I murmured, swallowing. "I'm the one that should have gone into the giant."

     Grover panicked. "Don't say that! It's bad enough Annabeth is gone, and now Bianca. Do you think I could stand it if..." He sniffled. "Do you think anybody else would help me make cheese enchiladas?"

"Grover.."

He wiped under his eyes with an oily cloth that left his face grimy, like he had on war paint. "I'm... I'm okay."

But I knew he wasn't. Ever since the encounter in New Mexico—whatever had happened when that wild wind blew through—he seemed really fragile, even more emotional than usual. I was going to ask him about it—really, I was—before the junkyard and before Talos and before we lost Bianca.

     Now, I just didn't have it in me.

     Our tow truck ran out of gas at the edge of a river canyon. This was just as well, because the road dead-ended.

     Thalia got out and slammed the door. Immediately, one of the tires blew. She huffed. "Great. What now?"

     "We give up," I suggested, and immediately was shut down by three unamused glares and Grover looking at me like I'd had a brilliant idea.

     I scanned the horizon. There wasn't much to see. Desert in all directions, occasional clumps of barren mountains plopped here and there. The canyon was the only thing interesting. The river itself wasn't very big, maybe fifty yards across, green water with a few rapids, but it carved a huge scar out of the desert. The rock cliffs dropped away below us.

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