heavy bones [jason grace]

3. amnesiacs united

I try to stay upbeat for Jason's sake.

I don't want to bombard him with questions, so I just walk him up to the Big House. When we get there, I fake a cheery grin. "Here we are! The Big House, camp headquarters." Jason takes it in. I remember when I saw it for the first time. It was one of the first things I ever remember seeing. As soon as my eyes landed on it, I felt calm. Safe.

Now when I look at it, I just wonder why it has four stories.

"I am not supposed to be here," Jason says.

I pat his shoulder lightly. "It's okay. I get that feeling sometimes too. But this is Camp Half-Blood. It's the safest place for demigods." He doesn't really look at me. I bite my bottom lip. Alright, it's now or never. "So, what did you mean when you said you don't remember how you got your tattoo?"

He eyes me like I'm insane. "I meant I don't remember."

"I get that," I snap. He recoils. Instantly, I feel bad. I have no reason to be short with him. "I mean, like, do you remember anything?" For a moment, he just looks at me. I shift uncomfortably under his gaze. I don't really get why he's just staring. Is he checking me out?

"Not really," he admits. "I don't remember anything before I woke up on the bus today." My eyes light up. He has amnesia, just like me. Finally, I have someone to talk to. No one else at camp knows what it's like to not remember who you are or where you come from.

I latch onto both of his arms and lean in, bouncing slightly on my heels. "I don't remember anything beyond three years. The first thing I remember is opening my eyes and being here, at camp. The only thing I remembered about myself was my first name." His eyes widen and he visibly relaxes. I know what that's like. To calm down when you finally speak to someone who doesn't expect answers from you.

"We could start a club," he jokes. "Amnesiacs United."

"We can meet every Wednesday," I continue, beaming. "And it will be perfectly anonymous because neither of us knows who we are." He cracks a smile for the first time since crash-landing into camp.

There are about thirteen seconds of time during which we just look at each other. Eventually, I pull away from him. "I'm really sorry you're going through this, but I have to be honest, it's really nice to have someone else at camp who knows what it's like." I look above his head.

"You're waiting for a sign," he guesses. "Like what popped over Leo's head."

"Maybe." I duck my head as my face grows hot. "I don't know. I was thinking maybe whoever wiped your memories wiped mine too, and  if I knew who your godly parent was, it'd help narrow it down, ya know?"

He takes my hands. "Three years and no answers?" I know I'm supposed to answer, but I'm too busy staring at our hands. I'm not a very touchy-feely person. I especially don't like it when someone touches my hands. But for some reason, I don't mind that Jason is holding my hands like we've been friends forever. I wonder if he even notices how jacked up my fingertips are. If he does, he doesn't say anything.

Three years and no answers.

My vision blurs. I set my jaw and tear my hands away. "Hopefully it won't be like that for you." The door to the Big House opens and Chiron walks out onto the porch. I wipe my hands on my shorts. "Chiron! This is Jason. He has amnesia, like me."

When Chiron finally rounds the corner, Jason backs up and nearly trips over his own feet. I fight a laugh. At first, Chiron smiles at Jason the way he smiles at all new campers, and then, the color drains from his face. I glance between Chiron and Jason, wondering if I missed something.