Bellamy’s palms had begun to sweat as he placed the packets on the table near the door. Had he done something wrong? The lights flickered and then went out. “Damn it,” his mother muttered as she looked up at the ceiling. “Bellamy, now,” she commanded. Or at least, he thought it was his mother. She was facing away from him again, and her voice swirled through the darkness until it didn’t sound like her anymore.
As he slunk away, Bellamy shot a quick glance over his shoulder. His mother didn’t even look like herself. She’d turned to the side, and her stomach appeared huge and round, like she was hiding something under her shirt. He blinked and scampered off, convinced that his eyes had been playing tricks on him, ignoring the chill traveling down his spine. “How’s she doing?
” Bellamy glanced up to see Clarke standing above him, looking uneasily from him to his sleeping sister. He nodded. “I think she’s okay.”
“Good.” She raised a slightly singed eyebrow. “Because it’d be a shame if you followed through on your threat from last night.”
“What did I say?”
“You told me that if I didn’t save your sister, you’d blow up the goddamn planet and everyone on it.”
Bellamy smiled. “Good thing it’s only a sprained ankle.” He cocked his head to the side and surveyed Clarke quizzically. The skin under her eyes was bruised with exhaustion, but the purple shadows just made them look greener. He felt a twinge of guilt for being such a jerk to her the night before. He’d pegged her as another self-absorbed Kelf thought iPhoenix girl who was training as a doctor because it gave her something to brag about at parties. But the strain in her delicate face and the blood matted in her reddish-gold hair made it clear she hadn’t stopped to rest since they’d landed.
“So,” Bellamy continued, remembering Wells’s declaration at the bonfire yesterday, and the way Clarke had stomped away from him, “why were you so mean to little Chancellor Junior?”
Clarke looked at him with a mixture of shock and indignation. For a moment, he thought she might actually hit him, but then she just shook her head. “That’s none of your business.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” Bellamy pressed.
“No,” Clarke said flatly. But then her mouth twitched into a questioning smile. “Why do you care?”
“Just taking a census,” Bellamy replied. “Specifically, to determine the relationship status of all the pretty girls on Earth.”
Clarke rolled her eyes, but then she turned back to Octavia and the playfulness drained from her face.
“What is it?” Bellamy looked from Clarke to his sister.
“Nothing,” Clarke said quickly. “I just wish I had some antiseptic for that cut on her face. And some of the others are going to need antibiotics.”
“So we don’t have any medicine?” Bellamy asked, frowning in concern.
Clarke looked at him, startled. “I think the medical supplies kits were thrown out of the dropship in the crash. We’ll be fine, though,” she said quickly, the lie shooting out of her mouth before she had time to make her features match it. “We’ll be okay for a while. The human body has a remarkable ability to heal itself.…” She trailed off as her eyes settled on the bloodstains on his stolen uniform.
Bellamy grimaced as he glanced down, wondering if she was thinking about the Chancellor. Bellamy hoped he’d survived—he had enough blood on his hands already. But it probably didn’t matter one way or another. Whoever the Council sent down with the next group would most certainly be authorized to execute Bellamy on the spot, regardless of the fact that the Chancellor’s injury had been an accident. As soon as Octavia was well enough to move, she and Bellamy would be out of there. They’d hike for a few days, put some distance between themselves and the group, and eventually find somewhere to settle down. He hadn’t spent months poring over those ancient survival guides he’d discovered on B deck for nothing. He’d be ready for whatever was waiting for them in those woods. It couldn’t be worse than what was going to come hurtling down from the sky.
“How long until she’ll be able to walk on it?”
Clarke turned back to Bellamy. “It’s a pretty bad sprain, so I’d say a few days until she can walk, a week or two until it’s fully healed.”
“But possibly sooner?”
She tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile that, for a moment, made him forget that he was marooned on a potentially toxic planet with ninety-nine juvenile delinquents. “What’s the rush?”
But before he had time to respond, someone called Clarke’s name and she was gone.
Bellamy took a deep breath. To his surprise, the simple act cleared his head, leaving him more awake and alert. It’d probably turn out to be toxic, but every time he inhaled, he sensed something unnamable but intriguing, like a mysterious girl Kter But it who wouldn’t meet your eyes but passed closely enough for you to catch a whiff of her perfume.
He took a few steps closer to the trees, anxious for a better look but unwilling to stray too far from Octavia. They didn’t look like any species he recognized, but then again, the only Earth botany book he’d been able to find had been about plants native to Africa, and he thought he’d heard Wells say they were on the East Coast of what had once been the United States.
A twig snapped next to him. Bellamy whipped around and saw a girl with a long, narrow face and stringy hair. “Can I help you?”
“Wells says everyone who’s not hurt should collect wood.”
A thread of irritation coiled around Bellamy’s stomach, and he gave the girl a tight smile. “I don’t think Wells is in any position to be giving orders, so if it’s all right with you, I’m going to worry about myself, okay?” She shifted uneasily for a moment before shooting a nervous glance over her shoulder. “Off you go,” Bellamy said, motioning her forward with his hands. He watched her scurry off with satisfaction.
He craned his neck and stared up at the sky, his eyes drinking in nothing but emptiness in all directions. It didn’t matter where they were. Any spot on this planet was going to be infinitely better than the world they’d left behind.
For the first time in his life, he was free.
8
Glass
Glass spent the rest of the night on Luke’s couch, grateful that Camille didn’t ask why she refused to sleep in Carter’s old room. They’d decided that it was best for Glass to stay hidden in Luke’s flat until the shift change at 0600, when there would be fewer guards on patrol.
She’d tossed and turned all night. Every time she rolled over, the bracelet dug into her skin, a painful reminder that while she was in danger, Wells was hundreds of kilometers away, fighting to survive on a planet that hadn’t been able to support life for centuries. It’d always been his dream to see Earth, but not like this. Not when it might still be toxic. Not after seeing his father shot right in front of him.
As she lay staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t keep her ears from searching for sounds in the darkness. The faintest murmur from the other side of Luke’s door was enough to turn her stomach. The silence was even worse.
Just as the circadian lights began to creep under the front door, Luke’s bedroom door opened, and both he and Camille staggered out wearily. Clearly, neither of them had slept much either. Luke was already dressed in off-duty civilian clothes, but Camille wore only one of Luke’s old undershirts, the hem of which skimmed the tops of her slender thighs. Glass blushed and looked away.
“Good morning.” The formality in Luke’s voice made Glass wince. The last time Luke had said those words to her, the two of them had been in his bed, and he’d whispered them in her ear.