Chapter Text
Jason wakes in the backseat of a school bus, not sure where he is, sitting beside a girl he doesn’t know. He shakes her head slightly, rubbing his eyes, trying to think.
A few dozen kids sprawl in the seats in front of him, listening to iPods, talking, or sleeping. They all look around his age . . . fifteen? Sixteen? Okay, that’s scary, he thinks, closing his eyes. I don’t know my own age.
The bus rumbles along a bumpy road and Jason’s eyes open again, he looks over at the girl he’s holding hands with. The girl was cute, but he doesn’t know who she is or what he’s doing there. Outside, desert rolls by under a bright blue sky. Jason is pretty sure that he doesn’t live in the desert. He tries to think back . . . the last thing he remembers . . .
The girl squeezes his hand. “Jason, you okay?”
She is wearing faded jeans, hiking boots, and a fleece snowboarding jacket. Her chocolate brown hair is cut choppy and uneven, with thin strands braided down the sides. She wears no makeup like she is trying not to draw attention to herself, but it doesn’t work. She is seriously pretty. Her eyes seem to change color like a kaleidoscope - brown, blue, and green.
Jason lets go of her hand. “Um, I don’t -”
In the front of the bus, a teacher shouts, “All right, cupcakes, listen up!” The guy is obviously a coach. His baseball cap is pulled low over his hair, so the students can just see his beady eyes. He has a wispy goatee and a sour face, as if he’d just eaten something moldy. His buff arms and chest push against a bright orange polo shirt; his nylon workout pants and Nikes are spotless white. A whistle hangs from his neck, and a megaphone is clipped to his belt. He would’ve looked pretty scary if he hadn’t been five feet zero. When he stands up in the aisle, one of the students calls, “Stand up, Coach Hedge!”
“I heard that!” the coach scans the bus for the offender. Then his eyes fix on Jason, and then the girl sitting right in front of him.
A jolt goes down Jason’s spine. He is sure that the coach knows he shouldn’t be there. He was going to call Jason out, demanding to know what he's doing on the bus - and Jason would have no clue what to say.
But Coach Hedge looks away and clears his throat. “We’ll arrive in five minutes! Stay with your partner. Don’t lose your worksheet. And if any of you precious little cupcakes causes any trouble on this trip, I will personally send you back to campus the hard way.” He picks up a baseball bat and makes like he is hitting a homerun.
Jason looks at the girl next to him. “Can he talk to us like that?”
She shrugs. “Always does. This is the Wilderness School. ‘Where the kids are the animals’.” She says it like it is a joke they’d shared before.
“This is some kind of mistake,” Jason says. “I’m not supposed to be here.”
The girl in the seat in front of him turns to meet his gaze. Jason starts slightly at the girl’s features, sea-green eyes, close cropped (H/c) hair, and scars littering her face.
“Same,” she meets Jason’s gaze with the same unsteady look he figured was gleaming in his own eyes.
The boy beside the green eyed girl turns and laughs. “Yeah, right, Jason. We’ve all been framed! I didn’t run away six times. Piper didn’t steal a BMW. (Y/n) didn’t flood four school bathrooms.”
The (H/c) haired girl’s, (Y/n), Jason supposes, eyes widen significantly.
Piper blushes. “I didn’t steal that car, Leo!”
“Oh, I forgot, Piper. What was your story? You talked the dealer into lending it to you?” he raises his eyes at Jason like, Can you believe her?
Leo looks like a Latino Santa’s elf, with curly black hair, pointy ears, a cheerful, babyish face, and a mischievous smile that told people right away that this guy shouldn’t be trusted with matches or sharp objects. His long, nimble fingers wouldn’t stop moving - drumming on the seat, sweeping his hair behind his ears, fiddling with the buttons of his army fatigue jacket. Either Leo is naturally hyper or he is hopped up on enough sugar and caffeine to give a heart attack to a water buffalo.
“Anyway,” Leo tells Jason, “I hope you’ve got your worksheet, ’cause I used mine for spit wads days ago. Why are you looking at me like that? Somebody draw on my face again?”
“I don’t know you,” Jason says, meeting a wary (Y/n)’s eye.
Leo gives him a crocodile grin. “Sure. I’m not your best friend. I’m his evil clone.”
“Leo Valdez!” Coach Hedge yells from the front. “Problem back there?”
Leo winks at Jason. “Watch this.” He turns to the front. “Sorry, Coach! I was having trouble hearing you. Could you use your megaphone, please?”
Coach Hedge grunts like he is pleased to have an excuse. He unclips the megaphone from his belt and continues giving directions, but his voice comes out like Darth Vader’s. The kids crack up. The coach tries again, but this time the megaphone blares: “The cow says moo!” The kids howl, and the coach slams down the megaphone. “Valdez!”
Piper stifles a laugh. “My god, Leo. How did you do that?”
Leo slips a tiny Phillips head screwdriver from his sleeve. “I’m a special boy.”
“Guys, seriously,” (Y/n)’s eyebrows are furrowed with confusion. “What am I doing here? Where are we going?”
Piper knits her eyebrows as Jason nods. “Are you two kidding?”
“No! I have -”
“No! I have no idea -”
“Aw, yeah, he’s joking,” Leo says. “He’s trying to get me back for that shaving cream on the Jell-O thing, aren’t you?”
Jason stares at him blankly. “No, I think he’s serious.”
Piper tries to take his hand again, but he pulls it away. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t - I can’t -”
“That’s it!” Coach Hedge yells from the front. “The back row has just volunteered to clean up after lunch!”
The rest of the kids cheer.
“There’s a shocker,” Leo mutters. But Piper kept her eyes between (Y/n) and Jason, like she can’t decide whether to be hurt or worried. “Did you hit your head or something? You really don’t know who we are?”
Jason shrugged helplessly. “It’s worse than that. I don’t know who I am.”
(Y/n) lets out a grunt of agreement.
. . .
The bus drops the students off in front of a big red stucco complex like a museum, just sitting in the middle of nowhere.
Maybe that’s what it is, Jason thinks, the National Museum of Nowhere.
A cold wind blows across the desert.
(Y/n) hadn’t paid much attention to what she is wearing, but she’s glad for how warm it is: black jeans and sneakers, a tattered orange t-shirt, and a black bomber jacket.
“So, a crash course for the amnesiacs,” Leo says, in a helpful tone that makes Jason think this is not going to be helpful. “We go to the ‘Wilderness School’”- Leo makes air quotes with his fingers. “Which means we’re ‘bad kids.’ Your family, or the court, or whoever, decided you were too much trouble, so they shipped you off to this lovely prison - sorry, ‘boarding school’ - in Armpit, Nevada, where you learn valuable nature skills like running ten miles a day through the cacti and weaving daisies into hats! And for a special treat we go on ‘educational’ field trips with Coach Hedge, who keeps order with a baseball bat. Is it all coming back to you now?”
“No.” Jason glances apprehensively at the other kids: maybe twenty guys, about a dozen girls. None of them look like hardened criminals, but he wonders what they’d all done to get sentenced to a school for delinquents, and he wonders why he belongs with them.
Leo rolls his eyes. “You’re really gonna play this out, huh?” he questions. “Okay, so the three of us started here this semester.” He looks over at (Y/n). “You’ve been here forever, you were like, twelve, when you arrived.”
(Y/n) blinks confusedly. That doesn’t feel right, she thinks.
“We’re totally tight,” Leo continues. “You do everything I say and give me your dessert and do my chores -”
“Leo!” Piper snaps, seeing the devastatingly confused look on (Y/n)’s face.
“Fine. Ignore that last part. But we are friends. Well, Piper’s a little more than Jason’s friend, the last few weeks -”
“Leo, stop it!” Piper and Jason’s face goes red. Jason thinks that he’d remember that he’d been going out with a girl like Piper. “They’ve got amnesia or something,” Piper goes on. “We’ve got to tell somebody.”
Leo scoffs. “Who, Coach Hedge? He’d try to fix them by whacking them upside the heads.”
The coach is at the front of the group, barking orders and blowing his whistle to keep the kids in line’ but every so often, he’d look at both Jason and (Y/n) and scowl.
“Leo, Jason and (Y/n) need help,” Piper insists. “They’ve got concussions or -”
“Yo, Piper,” One of the other guys drop back to join them as the group is heading into the museum. The new guy wedges himself between Jason and Piper and knocks Leo down. “Don’t talk to these bottom-feeders. You’re my partner, remember?”
The new guy has dark hair cut Superman style, a deep tan, and teeth so white they should’ve come with a warning label: Do not stare directly at teeth. Permanent blindness may occur. He is wearing a Dallas Cowboys jersey, Western jeans and boots, and he smiles like he was God’s gift to juvenile delinquent girls everywhere. Jason hates him instantly.
“Go away, Dylan,” Piper grumbles. “I didn't ask to work with you.”
“Ah, that’s no way to be. This is your lucky day!” Dylan hooks his arm through hers and drags her through the museum entrance. Piper shoots one last look over her shoulder like, 911.
A girl wearing jeans and a pink top and enough makeup for a Halloween party stalks over to (Y/n).
“Come on, baby,” the girl places a hand on (Y/n)’s bicep. “You’re my partner.” The girl, Isabel, pulls (Y/n) by the arm.
. . .
The students walk through the building, stopping here and there for Coach Hedge to lecture them with his megaphone, which alternatively makes him sound like a Sith Lord or blares out random comments like, “The pig says oink.”
Leo keeps pulling out nuts, bolts, and pipe cleaners from the pockets of his army jacket and putting them together, like he has to keep his hands busy at all times.
Jason is too distracted to pay much attention to the exhibits, but they are about the Grand Canyon and the Hualapai tribe, which own the museum.
Some girls keep looking over at Piper and Dylan and snickering, one of which happened to be (Y/n)’s partner, Isabel. All the girls were wearing matching jeans and pink tops; Jason presumes that they are the popular clique.
One of them says, “Hey, Piper, does your tribe run this place? Do you get in free if you do a rain dance?”
The other girls laugh; even Piper’s partner Dylan suppresses a smile. (Y/n)’s jaw tightens angrily.
Piper’s snowboarding jacket sleeves hid her hands, but (Y/n) gets the feeling that the brunette is clenching her fists. “My dad’s Cherokee,” Piper says. “Not Hualapai. ‘Course, you’d need a few brain cells to know the difference, Isabel.”
Isabel widens her eyes in mock surprise, turning to (Y/n) and grasping her bicep again. “You wouldn’t let her talk to me like that, would you, hun?” Isabel squeezes the muscle a few times, smirking to herself.
(Y/n) raises an eyebrow, ripping her arm from Isabel’s grasp. “I think Piper can talk to you however she likes.”
The group shuffles on, but the girls keep calling out little comments to Piper.
“Good to be back on the rez?” one of them asks in a sweet voice.
“Dad’s probably too drunk to work,” another says with fake sympathy. “That’s why she turned klepto.”
Piper ignores them, but (Y/n) is ready to punch them herself. She may not remember Piper, or even who she is, but (Y/n) knows she hates bullies.
. . .
They reach the far end of the exhibit hall, where some big glass doors lead out to a terrace.
“All right, cupcakes,” Coach Hedge announces. “You are about to see the Grand Canyon. Try not to break it. The skywalk can hold the weight of seventy jump jets, so you featherweights should be safe out there. If possible, try to avoid pushing each other over the edge, as that would cause me extra paperwork.”
The coach opens the doors and all the students step outside. The Grand Canyon spreads before them, live and in person. Extending over the edge is a horseshoe-shaped walkway made of glass, so they could see right through it.
Jason has to agree. Despite his amnesia, and his feeling that he doesn’t belong here, he can’t help being impressed.
The canyon is bigger and wider than anyone could appreciate from a picture. The students are so high up that birds circle below their feet. Five hundred feet below, a river snakes along the canyon floor. Banks of storm clouds had moved overhead while they’d been inside, casting shadows like angry faces across the cliffs. As far as Jason can see in any direction, red and gray ravines cut through the desert like some crazy god had taken a knife to it.
Jason gets a piercing pain behind his eyes. Crazy gods . . .
Where had he come up with that idea? He feels like he’d gotten close to something important - something he should know about. He also gets the unmistakable feeling that he is in danger.
“You all right?” Leo questions. “You’re not going to throw up over the side, are you? ’Cause I should’ve brought my camera.”
Jason grabs the railing. He is shivering and sweaty, but it has nothing to do with heights. He blinks, and the pain behind his eyes subsides. “I’m fine,” he manages. “Just a headache.”
Thunder rumbles overhead; a cold wind almost knocks Jason sideways.
“This can’t be safe.” Leo squints at the clouds. “Storm’s right over us, but it’s clear all the way around. Weird, huh?”
“All right, cupcakes!” Coach Hedge yells. He frowns at the storm like it bothers him too. “We may have to cut this short, so get to work! Remember, complete sentences!”
The storm rumbles and (Y/n)’s head begins to hurt. Not knowing why she does it, she reaches into the pocket of her jeans and pulls out a ballpoint pen. The cap is blue, and τσουνάμι is engraved on the side in blue writing. (Y/n) doesn’t even take a minute to translate the Greek - Tsunami.
(Y/n)’s gaze follows Jason as he walks across the skywalk. (Y/n) shoves the pen back into her pocket and shoves the worksheet at Isabel, before jogging over to Coach Hedge and Jason, who’d just arrived next to the coach.
“Did you do this?” the coach asks them.
Jason takes a step back. “Do what?”
(Y/n) thinks it sounds as though the coach thought that they had created the thunderstorm.
Coach Hedge glares at them, his beady little eyes glinting under the brim of his cap. “Don’t you two play games with me. What are you two doing here, and why are you messing up my job?”
(Y/n) and Jason exchange glances. “You mean . . . you don’t know us?” Jason asks. “We’re not your students?”
Hedge snorts. “Never seen either of you before today?”
(Y/n) is so relieved she almost wants to cry. At least she isn’t going insane - she wasn’t supposed to be here. “Look, sir. I don’t know how we got here. We both woke up on the bus. All I know is I’m not supposed to be here.”
Jason grunts in agreement.
“Got that right,” Hedge’s gruff voice drops to a murmur, like she is sharing a secret. “One ‘uh you two’ve got a powerful way with the Mist, if you can make all these people think they know you two; but you can’t fool me. I’ve been smelling monster for days now. I knew we had an infiltrator, neither of you smell like a monster. You smell like half-bloods. So - who are you, and where’d you two come from?”
Most of what the coach says doesn’t make sense, but (Y/n) decides to answer honestly. “I don’t know who I am. I don’t have any memories. Y-you’ve got to help me. Please."
Coach Hedge studies (Y/n)’s face as if he’s trying to read her thoughts; then he studies Jason.
“Great,” Hedge mutters. “You’re being truthful.”
“Of course we are!” Jason replies. “And what was all that about monsters and half-bloods? Are those code words, or something?”
Hedge narrows his eyes. Part of Jason wonders if the guy is just nuts, but the other part knows better.
“Look,” Hedge says, “I don’t know who you are. I just know what you are, and it means trouble. Now I have to protect four of you rather than two. Are you the special package? Is that it?”
“What’re you talking about?” Jason and (Y/n) ask in unison.
Hedge looks over the storm. The clouds are getting thicker and darker, hovering right over the skywalk.
“This morning,” Hedge says, “I got a message from camp. They said an extraction team is on the way. They’re coming to pick up a special package, but they wouldn’t give me details. I thought to myself, Fine. The two I’m watching are pretty powerful, older than most. I know they’re being stalked. I can smell a monster in the group. I figure that’s why the camp is suddenly frantic to pick them up. But then you two pop up out of nowhere. So, are you two the special package?”
The pain behind (Y/n)’s eyes gets worse than ever. Half-bloods. Camp. Monsters. She doesn’t know what Hedge is talking about, but the words give her a massive brain freeze - like her mind is trying to access information that should’ve been there, but isn’t.
(Y/n) stumbles, and Coach Hedge catches her. For a short guy, the coach has hands like steel, (Y/n) thinks. “Whoa, there, cupcake. You say you got no memories, huh? Fine. I’ll just have to watch you guys, too, until the team gets here. We’ll let the director figure things out.”
“What director?” Jason asks. “What camp?”
“Just sit tight. Reinforcements should be here soon. Hopefully nothing happens before -”
Lightning crackles overhead. The wind picks up with a vengeance. Worksheets fly into the Grand Canyon, and the entire bridge shutters. Kids scream, stumbling and grabbing the rails.
“I had to stay something,” Hedge grumbles. He bellows into his megaphone, “Everyone inside! The cow says moo! Off the skywalk!”
“I thought you said this thing was stable!” Jason shouts over the wind.
“Under normal circumstances,” Hedge agrees, “which these aren’t. Come on.”
Word Count: 3227 words