"So?"

We're in the field again. There are more flowers than before, and the sun seems to be shining brighter. The picnic blanket is pink this time around, and I'm dressed like her, white sundress and all. Tonight, she has a flower crown in her hair. She's braiding my hair to match with flowers of all different colors, weaving the dark strands so expertly she could be Annabeth's mom.

"So what?" I ask, scrunching my face up but resisting the urge to turn and look at her. She'd given me strict instructions not to move.

"What we talked about last time," she elaborates. "Do you still want to forget?"

Oh. Right. That. I'd somehow forgotten about that time I'd broken down crying, begging my mom to take my memories away.

"No," I tell her, and the answer comes so quickly that it leaves me a little breathless. "I don't want to forget. Never again."

"I'm happy to hear that," Mom says. She ties off the braid and drapes it over my shoulder. "There. All done. You can move now."

I shift so I'm sitting next to her, not in front of her. She pours us each a glass of raspberry lemonade from the ice-cold pitcher she'd summoned with a lazy wave of her hand. She watches me closely as I take a long sip, my mind very obviously elsewhere.

"How's the song coming along?" she asks. She moves her legs out from underneath her and lays down, using her elbows to keep her somewhat upright. She's dressed plainly, and she's not glowing or anything but she just looks like a goddess. "The one you started with Noelle. You finish it?"

"Just about," I say, easing into a similar position. "I've been pretty busy."

She grins and elbows me lightly. "With Jason, I presume?" My face grows warm and I have to look away. Her head falls back as she shrieks with delight, but her flower crown stays firmly in place. "Oh, I knew it! Tell me everything. Well, not everything. I am your mother."

"Mom," I groan. "Don't be weird."

"Fine, fine," she relents, though she's still beaming like the sun above us. "We can talk about something else if you'd like."

Hm. What do you talk about with your mom who is also an immortal goddess? I could talk to her about my destiny, about the progress we've made on the Argo II, about the prophecies. I could talk to her about Jason, how I'm worried when the war ends, we'll be separated again. I could ask her for more details about what my dad was like before he became the person I knew. 

I bite my lip and roll onto my side to properly face her. "I had this idea, but it's kind of stupid."

She rolls onto her side, raising her eyebrows. "I sincerely doubt that, but continue."

"I want to do something for Noelle," I tell her, stirring my lemonade with the straw just to do something with my hands. "And for Erin. And I thought that maybe...I don't know, I guess I just figured since they had music in common, I could... never mind, it's dumb."

"I don't like it when you talk like that," Mom says. She's not smiling anymore. She looks kind of stern actually, which is a weird look on her. She's never stern. "You're my daughter, Cordelia. Even without your powers, you shine so brightly. You're clever, you're kind, you make everyone around you smile and laugh...it's no wonder you have so many people who love you."

"But—"

"No buts," Mom says firmly. "Do you have any idea the light you bring to people's lives? Do you truly not see how wonderful you are? Do you think every single person who has chosen to call you a friend is lying or making a mistake?"

I can't bring myself to answer. I'm tongue-tied. She thinks of me so highly. Why? I'm not really all that great, am I? She's wrong about me, but she is right about one thing — I do think that every single absolutely incredible person who calls me a friend is making a mistake. I'm...I don't even have the words for what I am.

"I..."

"Tell me," Mom demands. Her eyes are a deep shade of purple. They see right through me. "Tell me what your idea is, and I'll tell you if it's dumb. Okay?"

I feel so...what's the word? Ashamed? Dirty? Stupid. Useless. Undeserving. That's what I feel, and that's what I am. Undeserving. Why is it that I have a great mom and great siblings and great friends and yet other people who actually deserve all of those things don't? What makes me so special? The question pops into my head again, the one that's been haunting me since the Battle of Manhattan. No, since the Battle of the Labyrinth.

Why did I get to live when so many others died?

Because the gods need me to do their bidding. Because Jason and I were destined to be torn apart and find our way back to each other. Because the Fates decided that's how things were going to go down. Because maybe I'm wrong about myself, and maybe I am so much more than I think I am. Because when I get knocked down, I always get back up and try again, and I will never stop trying.

Because I'm Cordelia fucking Yorkes, and my story isn't over yet.

I tell Mom my idea. She loves it, and we spend the rest of the night drinking our lemonades and discussing the finer details. When I wake up the next morning, my hair is in a flawless braid and I really need to pee, but I also feel stronger somehow. I don't know how things will work out, but I know I'm going to give it my all, and really, that's all that matters.

*

I assemble a team to help me bring my idea to fruition. 

My loved ones are more than happy to help. Lacy immediately gets to work on picking out the perfect outfit, taking Miranda to be her assistant, while Taylor, Roz, and Butch jumpstart the construction part of it. Cabin 7 takes a bit more convincing, but once I mention it's a tribute to those we lost in the war, they come around. Annabeth, Piper, Jason, and Leo are all preoccupied with the Argo II and planning for their trip to Camp Jupiter, so I decide to keep them out of the loop for now.

"Are you plotting something?" Jason asks me one afternoon. We're cuddled up on the loveseat on the porch of Cabin 14. His arms are around me, my back to his chest, my legs tucked under me. I love it when he holds me. It just makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.

I answer his question with one of my own. "What makes you think that?"

"You're being weirdly quiet," he says, peering down at me warily. "You're never this quiet."

"Maybe I'm trying something new," I say with a little shrug. "Or maybe I just don't have anything to say."

He smirks. "Doubtful."

"I'm not plotting anything," I tell him, and it's the truth because plotting is usually for bad stuff and what I'm planning is hopefully not going to be bad. "Just enjoying a little quiet time with my boyfriend. Is that a crime?"

"You're definitely up to something," he says. "Luckily, you're cute so I'm willing to ignore it."

I twist around to raise my eyebrows at him. "Just cute? That's all I get?"

His eyes widen, clearly a little panicked. "Uh, I meant devastatingly gorgeous."

"Aw, thanks babe," I coo, and I kiss him. I love kissing him. I love doing just about anything with him. We still need to have that deep conversation he promised me, but neither of us has been in the mood for such a talk. I know we need to get to it eventually.

I like to think that we have time.

*

The day my plan comes to fruition comes far quicker than I would've liked, but there's no backing out now.

Everyone's a little confused when Lacy, Miranda, Taylor, my siblings, Cabin 7, and I duck out of dinner a little early, but we have to finish up before everyone gets to the amphitheater. I go with Lacy and Miranda to Cabin 14 to get ready while the others head to do some final touches and warm up. When Lacy lays it out on my bed, it's my first time seeing the outfit she and (partly) Miranda put together for me.

My breath catches in my throat. "It's perfect." I pick the dress up and hold it to my body in the mirror, trying to envision what it will look like on me. "Where did you find this?"

"Actually, I made it," Lacy admits, blushing.

I whirl around, my jaw dropping. "You made this?"

"With a little help from me," Miranda says, "but yeah, she designed it and made it pretty much all by herself."

My heart swells. Lacy made a dress for me. She made a dress from scratch for me. To help my silly little idea see the light of day. She's incredible. All of my friends are so incredible. I'm so insanely lucky to have them in my life.

I put on the dress and then Lacy does my makeup while Miranda does my hair. They don't do anything too crazy, just enough to make the whole outfit work. When they've made me look more put together than usual, we go to the amphitheater and help finish setting up. Not that there's really much left to be done.

"This is going to be awesome," Kayla Knowles from Cabin 7 gushes once it's all finished. 

Everyone has an accessory the same shade of blue as my dress.  Kayla has a blue scrunchie on her wrist, Will's changed into a blue top, Austin has blue earrings, and so on, and so forth. Even my loved ones have them — feather boas for Roz and Butch, war paint for Taylor, and I'm only now noticing Miranda and Lacy's braided bracelets. It warms my heart, the sight of them.

"Hopefully," I say, taking my place.

Taylor shakes her head at me. "Not hopefully. I've seen you guys practicing. Kayla's right. This is going to be incredible."

I let her words wash over me and try to believe them. We have been practicing a ton, and everyone here has invested a lot of time into making this happen. 

"You're right," I tell her.

She smirks. "When am I not?"

She, Lacy, Miranda, and Butch take their seats as the rest of CHB starts to filter into the amphitheater. Everyone's already muttering amongst themselves, but when they spot everything we've set up, the volume increases and the speed picks up. I fidget with the rings Miranda had slipped on my fingers. When everyone's seated (save for Chiron, who's standing by the bottom row), Roz flips a switch and runs to join Butch and the others. The string lights she, Butch, and Taylor had set up flicker to life, bathing me and Cabin 7 in warm light and revealing what we've been working so hard on.

Everyone reacts differently to the sight of us standing on a platform built over the bonfire pit. It's not as glamorous a stage as Cabin 9 might've made, but they've been so busy with the Argo II that we all agreed to leave them out of it. Even without the inherent building expertise being a child of the god of blacksmiths gives you, Taylor, Butch, and Roz managed to build a nice sturdy stage from planks of wood donated by the dryads. The stage is just big enough for me, Cabin 7, and all of our instruments and equipment.

"Hey," I say nervously. I'm still not used to having everybody's eyes on me. "Um, so you're probably wondering what all of this is about."

Complete silence. Someone coughs. I glance over my shoulder at my makeshift band, who all offer me looks of encouragement. Kayla's on bass, Will's playing the acoustic guitar, Gracie's on the keyboard, and Sam's on the drums. Austin, Jerry, and Yan are playing the violin. Neelam is ready to go with her cello — it was her idea to add the violins and the cello to the arrangement, and it was a genius one. And then there's me standing behind the microphone stand that Gracie had dug out of the cabinet of musical instruments in Cabin 7.

I clear my throat and continue. "So, um, I wanted to do something, you know? To honor all of the friends and family we've lost along the way. And gods, we've lost so many."

Some campers bow their heads. Others look away. I catch some reaching for a loved one's hand. I find Jason in the crowd, and he smiles so widely at me that I can't help but smile back.

"You got this!" he mouths.

"This is a song I started writing a long time ago," I say, straightening up and raising my chin, "with my...my second mom, Noelle Yorkes. She died before we finished it, and then I lost my memory, and the song got lost with it. But now I remember her, and our song, and so I finished it. I'd like to sing it for you all now if that's cool with you guys."

Finally, a reaction. People whoop and holler and clap. At least one person from Cabin 11 wolf-whistles. I take a deep breath and signal the band. They start playing and I close my eyes, swaying to the opening.

"Knew a boy once when I was small, a towhead blond with eyes of salt," I sing, keeping my eyes closed so I don't have to see anyone's reactions. Usually, my singing is drowned out by everyone else's during the camp sing-a-longs. This is the first time most people have ever heard it. I could be terrible for all I know. "He played the drum in the marching band. His parents cared more about the Bible than being good to their own child, he wore long sleeves 'cause of his dad."

"And somehow, we fell out of touch." I open my eyes, but I can't bring myself to look at the audience. 

My thoughts drift to the boy who inspired this verse. Dylan Abrams, unclaimed. He used to sleep next to me in Cabin 11. A couple of months after Thalia came back to life, as we lay in our sleeping bags trying to fall asleep, he asked me why I hadn't left yet. I told him I had too many people to stay for. He'd smiled, said that sounded nice, and then I fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone.

I haven't seen him since.

"Hope he took his bad deal and made a royal flush. Don't know if I'll see you again someday." I know I won't, but a girl can dream. "But if you're out there, I hope that you're okay."

There's a brief gap in between verses in which I take another deep breath. This next verse is going to be a lot harder to get through without crying.

This next verse is about Erin.

"Middle school friend grew up alone, she raised her brothers on her own," I sing, moving my hands to the mic to give them something to do besides fidget. "Her parents hated who she loved."

A couple of years ago, I ran into Erin at camp in the middle of April. I was so confused because she wasn't a year-rounder. She said she'd gotten into a really bad fight with her parents. She said it wasn't safe for her there anymore, so she came to camp. I didn't know what to say to make her feel better, so I just gave her a hug. I wish I'd done more.

"She couldn't wait to go to college," I continue, my vision blurring with tears. She had all of these plans. Plans that never got the chance to come to fruition. "She was tired 'cause she was brought into a world where family was merely blood."

My voice breaks a little, but I keep going. "Does she know how proud I am she was created, with the courage to unlearn all of their hatred? We don't talk much but I just gotta say — I miss you and I hope that you're okay."

As we go into the bridge Noelle had written all those years ago, I let myself glow a little, putting on a light show of sorts. "Address the letters to the holes in my butterfly wings. Nothing's forever, nothing's as good as it seems. And when the clouds won't iron out and the monsters creep into your house and every door is hard to close."

It takes more effort than it really should, but I finally make myself look at the audience. I sweep my eyes over them as I sing the outro, trying to get the point across that this part is for them. All of them. 

"Well, I hope you know how proud I am you were created, with the courage to unlearn all of their hatred." On 'their,' my gaze flickers up to the sky, then back to the crowd. "But, God, I hope you're happier today. 'Cause I love you."

I lock eyes with Jason, and I manage a smile. "And I hope that you're okay."

I take a step back from the mic and bob my head to the music as Cabin 7 plays the end of the song. Austin, Jerry, Yan, and Neelam play us out. The last note rings out into the air, and then there's a beat of suffocating nerve-wracking silence, and then the audience jumps to their feet, exploding with applause and cheers. I notice a lot of people are crying. I am too.

I step to the side and signal Cabin 7. On three, we all bow the best we can, and the crowd roars even louder. My heart feels so full I think it might burst. I let my glow die down and my shoulders sag with the relief of a job well done. I can almost hear Erin's voice, cheering me on, can almost feel Noelle's hand on my shoulder. I hope I've made them proud. No, I know I did.

My hand finds the locket around my neck. I've been wearing it ever since Lou Ellen discovered it's enchanted — no tool or spell could unlock it. It can only be opened by putting the right key in the lock. My guess is whoever has the key is a part of my quest. A part of my destiny.

I've known for a while now that I'm meant for more than I could've ever guessed. That I have a prophecy of my own, and that I'm going to do something absolutely incredible to help save the world. But when my loved ones and I sneak off after the bonfire to sit on the beach and have a little after-party, and Piper raves about my performance and Leo calls me Yorkie and Jason has his arm around my waist...

I've never felt so special.

*

and here we are. the official end of heavy bones, posted on the three-year anniversary of its publishing. i know this is kind of cheesy and probably kind of cringe, but i felt like this was a good conclusion to this part of cordy's arc and i've been setting it up for a little while so hopefully it doesn't feel too out of place. if you somehow don't know or recognize it, the song cordy sings is hope ur ok by olivia rodrigo, and the dress lacy made her is this one:

also i know there are a lot of loose ends but that's bc cordy's story isn't over yet!! you'll see her again someday :)

and now that heavy bones is over, it's time for the second book in the cool kids series:

honor code