heavy bones [jason grace]

1. only the beginning

I don't remember anything before Camp Half-Blood.

They say a satyr named Sam Greenwood found me wandering down a highway in Pennsylvania, drenched in blood. My own blood, no matter what some of the other campers like to say. I was in a fugue state, alive and conscious but completely numb to everything and anything. Sam managed to get me to camp safely. As soon as I stepped over the property line, I was claimed by Iris, the goddess of rainbows. And that's where my life begins for me.

Everything before that is just...gone.

That was three years ago. I'm fifteen now and a year-rounder at camp — not that I really have much choice in the matter, considering that, as far as I can remember, I have no family outside of cabin 14. Anyway, like some of the other year-rounders, I go to Brooklyn Academy of the Gifted, which I think is ironic because I'm not particularly good at anything. The only things I have close to talents are my powers that I've been given very explicit instructions not to use around mortals unless it's a life-or-death situation.

Basically, I can manipulate light and use it to create illusions. It comes in handy when you're a demigod, but not so much when you're trying to prove you belong in a school for gifted kids. My half-siblings — I have seven — are good at other things like communicating, art or riding horses. Not me. Maybe Mom figured since I got actual powers I didn't need any other talents.

Mom was wrong.

Like, take right now for instance. We're having a debate in history and everyone has to speak at least once. Not too much to ask for, right? Except I have no idea what to say. How am I supposed to debate history if I don't even know my own? I bite down hard on my lip and shift nervously in my seat, praying Mr. Hartford will forget to call on me. I don't even have anyone I can ask for help. My only friend in this class is Taylor James, daughter of Ares. And of course, she's sitting on the other side of the classroom because she's anti-industrialization and I'm pro.

If only I was capable of paying attention. Maybe I could bullshit my way through this. I grab my pencil to take some notes and hiss. The clip had dug into my scarred fingertips. I don't know how they got like that, but the other kids make fun of me for them. My hiss draws Mr. Hartford's attention and before I can even start praying to my mom, he calls my name. Everyone turns to stare at me. My face goes red. My knee is bouncing up and down so viciously I'm shaking my desk. I just want it to be winter break already.

I clear my throat and make an attempt. "Well, uh, industrialization is good because it creates jobs, right? And jobs are always good."

Mr. Hartford sighs. "Can you try making a point that has not already been made?"

Well, shit. Drew Tanaka, a daughter of Aphrodite who's on the other side of the classroom, fakes an exaggerated yawn and a couple of her friends giggle. My eyes fall to my fingertips. Hard evidence of a past I can't for the life of me remember. Do you get back up?

"Industrialization benefits the consumer," I say. Now I'm just pulling words out of my ass, but the girl next to me gives a slight nod, so I continue. "Uh, since industrialization creates factories which increase productivity, that means there's like, more of everything. Because the supply is higher, the cost can be lower."

"Good, Miss Yorkes," Mr. Hartford says before moving on. I don't actually have a last name. When I got to camp, all I could remember was my first name, Cordelia. I got the last name Yorkes from New York. It wasn't my most creative moment, but I needed a last name so I could go to school.

Drew mouths the word 'good' at me. Everyone else has been 'fantastic' and 'amazing' and 'impressive.' Me? I'm just good. I know Drew's trying to hurt me with this, but it's a fact I've accepted by now. I'm good. Not great, not bad. Just good. I'm absolutely nothing special.