Where You Go ― Jason Grace

i. not so sweet dreams

"THIS ISN'T GOING to end well."

Ophelia rolled her eyes, peeking out from behind the cold marble column she was hiding behind. A few yards away, at the center of the open-air Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, stood a scrawny blond-haired boy, preparing his latest Beanie Baby sacrifice to see what messages the gods had for them. He meticulously washed his hands in the basin and arranged the stuffed hippopotamus and the ceremonial knife on the table, completely unaware of the two troublemakers watching him.

"This is going to be epic," Ophelia whispered, turning her head just a little to look at the girl hiding behind the column next to hers.

"We're going to get in trouble," the blonde a yard away from her muttered, though it was clear in her half-defeated, half-excited tone that she had no intentions of disrupting the plan.

"Only if we get caught," Ophelia pointed out. She returned her attention to the toga-wearing blond. Gods, did he ever wear normal clothes? That stupid toga barely even fit him.

Her expression brightened with mischief as she watched the blond pick up his ceremonial knife. She held her breath as he sliced into the belly of the poor plush hippo, the breath releasing in a snort of startled amusement at the high-pitched shriek he let out as something red blasted him in the chest.

The blond stepped away from the table, his purple Camp Jupiter t-shirt and once-pristine white toga stained with copious amounts of the red Kool-Aid Ophelia had "borrowed" from Dakota.

"What the—?" The blond's eyes narrowed dangerously on the column next to Ophelia's, and the daughter of Mercury realized too late that just a bit of Maren's form was exposed.

"Maren Russell and Ophelia Imai!" the augur yelled, his indignant voice echoing in the marble pavilion. "What do you think you're—?"

"Run!" Ophelia shouted, grabbing Maren's wrist and dragging her away from the crime scene. Maren squealed, half-surprised and half-delighted, and sprinted after her.

"We're so dead!" Maren yelled as they ran from Temple Hill, heading straight for downtown. "We're going to be cleaning the unicorn stables for a year!"

"Not if we establish an alibi!" Ophelia shouted back, dodging the foot traffic and earning only a few dirty looks. It was hard to glare when the target was moving so fast.

"Alibi?" Maren asked. "He caught us red-handed—literally!"

She held out her red-stained palms to prove it.

"Don't worry, I have a plan," Ophelia promised.

Maren huffed. "I hate your plans."

Ophelia risked a wink before returning her focus to keeping from running straight into a light pole. "But you love me."

Maren's response was a huffed, "Unfortunately."

Ophelia found who she was looking for right where she'd been expecting to—leaving the training facilities and heading toward the mess hall for afternoon muster, which was in about ten minutes.

"Jason!" she called out, slowing down to a more casual walk.

"He's our alibi?" Maren asked indignantly.

"Shh, I've got this."

The blond son of Jupiter turned at the sound of his name, and he smiled as he located the speaker. "Hey, Ophelia." His gaze shifted to Maren, and his smile turned from genuine to polite. "Hi, Maren."

"Hi," Maren grumbled.

Ophelia ignored the tension between the two—Jason Grace and Maren Russell were nothing close to friends, and their only association with each other (besides their shared cohort) came from the one mutual friend they shared. If not for Ophelia, they'd likely never interact with each other at all, and they'd both be perfectly fine with that.