Where You Go ― Jason Grace

xx. happy birthday to jason grace

AFTER PACING THE DECK and suffering through Coach Hedge's rendition of "Old MacDonald" (with weapons instead of animals, naturally), Piper managed to convince the old goat to let them have a picnic in the park.

Hedge grudgingly agreed. "Stay where I can see you. And keep these two out of trouble, McLean."

"What are we, kids?" Jason asked.

Hedge snorted. "Kids are baby goats. They're cute, and they have redeeming social value. You are definitely not kids."

The trio spread a blanket under a willow tree next to a pond. Ophelia laid back on the blanket and let the sun soak into her skin, remembering a time before she became so well-acquainted with war, where she laid on a different blanket under the same sun with a girl she loved.

She felt a little like she was putting off fate, stalling for just another moment of peace, but in that moment with her boyfriend and her best friend, she didn't care. She felt like she'd earned some calm before the inevitable storm came.

Piper's new cornucopia spilled out an entire meal—neatly wrapped sandwiches, canned drinks, fresh fruit, and (for some reason) a birthday cake with purple icing and candles already lit.

Piper frowned. "Is it someone's birthday?"

Ophelia sat up, leaning back on her elbows with an equally confused expression.

Jason winced. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"Jason!"

Ophelia frowned in confusion. "Your birthday's September nineteenth."

"That's the date the praetors picked out when I came to camp," Jason explained. "Thalia told me when my actual birthday was the last time she came to camp."

Ophelia smacked his arm lightly. "And you didn't think to tell your girlfriend?"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "It's just, there's so much going on."

"July first," Piper said. "The Kalends of July."

"Yeah." Jason smirked. "The Romans would find that auspicious—the first day of the month named for Julius Caesar. Juno's sacred day. Yippee."

"If Hercules is the Starbucks of Ancient Greece, Caesar's the McDonald's of Ancient Rome," Ophelia muttered. 

"Seventeen?" Piper asked.

Jason nodded. "Oh, boy. One year away from voting."

"Now you're the dancing queen age," Ophelia said. "Congrats." Then she frowned. "Wait, does this mean you're actually older than me?"

"Ha," Jason teased.

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "Shut up and blow out your candles, Dancing Queen."

Jason did. Ophelia wondered if he'd made a wish, but she didn't ask. Whatever it was, she didn't want to jinx it.

The picnic was just like the picnics Ophelia used to have with Maren, but, as she ate a slice of the chocolate cake and smeared icing on Piper's cheek just to make her laugh, Ophelia thought this picnic was better. She was with two people she loved, who fought beside her out of love, not out of duty or lack thereof. She couldn't picture either of them doing what Maren had done—turning on her and fighting for the enemy. They were good people to their core, and they didn't let the tragedies they'd gone through mold them into villains like Maren had.

After a while, Piper shot Ophelia a wink that wasn't even remotely subtle, declaring that she was going to bring Hedge a slice of birthday cake and would see them back on the ship.