𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 𝗗𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗
⚖︎
Jackie Karev has been different for her entire life. Even in the orphanage, she was the odd one out.
She just wasn't expecting to find her people at military school, of all places.
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𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗕𝗔𝗗, heading into the city. It was wintertime, and everybody needed to be in Manhattan for the holidays, apparently. Jackie watched the crowds out the window–families walking on the sidewalks, in the other cars. She knew firsthand how easy it was to slip in the gaps of the crowd and reach gentle fingers into pockets and purses. Before she'd been sent away to Westover, winter was one of her most profitable seasons.
She'd always used the funds to buy a new coat or new boots, or something else to help keep the chill away. The orphanage gave her food, so she tried to steer away from buying snacks, but sometimes, she'd walk past a bodega or a stand selling warm food, and she wouldn't be able to help herself.
Marielle was watching her. Jackie could see her in the reflection on the window; she was just staring with an unreadable expression.
When Jackie turned, she met Marielle's gaze with Phyllis's green eyes. They were brighter than Marielle's, who's green eye was the color of a dark lake. The type of lake where when you step on the bottom, sediment billows up in clouds and suddenly you can't see through the water anymore, can't see the bottom. The green came before the dirt, though Jackie got the sense if she pressed too hard . . . Marielle's green eye would cover over the same way.
Her blue eye was different, like the ocean at the spot it met the sky. Jackie could envision the glimmer of white tipped waves in her irises, like her right eye was really a portal to a beach. She could feel the sand on her feet and the breeze on her face.
She'd never been to a beach before.
Jackie blinked, and cleared the feeling away. Marielle blinked, too, and glanced away for a short moment. Grover was passed out in the row in front of them, snoring gently. Bianca was peering out the window, sitting directly behind Zoë. The driver and the passenger seat were occupied by Zoë and Thalia, engaged in a hushed argument.
None of them would notice anything.
"You got my message?" Marielle whispered. She unbuckled her seat belt and slid across the seats, closer to Jackie.
"Message?"
"I told Phyllis to find you and trade spots," Marielle explained. "I didn't expect you to look like her, but it was a good idea. We need to keep a low profile until we're too far away to turn back."
"I didn't get your message," Jackie replied, feeling a flood of relief. Marielle wanted her here. Marielle had been trying to get her on the quest, either because of what she'd seen in the future or because she believed Jackie would be a good fit for the quest. It didn't matter. Marielle was really on her side.
"Oh." Marielle looked confused for half a second, before smirking up at Jackie. "You came on your own?"
Jackie shrugged. She found that it was hard to blush when she was wearing someone else's face. If she looked like herself, she would've been bright red. "I just . . . Annabeth fell because of me. I want to help."
