Wells sighed as he settled down next to Clarke. “I already told you they were performing Bach,” he said, shooting a longing glance at th C gl the e door.
“You know what I’m talking about.” Clarke interlocked her fingers with his. “This movement, that movement.” She grinned. “Besides, I always clap at the wrong time.”
Wells gave her hand a squeeze.
There was no need for any sort of introduction or announcement. From the moment the first notes burst forward, the crowd fell silent, the violinist’s bow slicing through their chatter as it swept across the strings. Then the cello joined in, followed by the clarinet. There were no drums tonight, but it didn’t matter. Wells could practically hear the thud of two hundred hearts beating in time to the music.
“This is what I always imagined a sunset would sound like,” Wells whispered. The words slipped out of his mouth before he had time to think, and he braced for an eye roll, or at least a look of confusion.
But the music had also cast its spell on Clarke. “I’d love to see a sunset,” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.
Wells absently ran his hand through her silky hair. “I’d love to see a sunset with you.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “What are you doing in about seventy-five years?” he whispered.
“Cleaning my dentures,” Clarke said with a smile. “Why?”
“Because I have an idea for our first date on Earth.”
The light was fading, the bonfire flickering across the faces standing around Wells.
“I know this all seems strange and intimidating and, yes, unfair, but we’re here for a reason,” he told the crowd. “If we survive, everyone survives.”
Nearly a hundred heads turned to him, and for a moment, he thought perhaps his words had chipped away at the layers of calcified defiance and ignorance. But then a new voice crashed into the silence.
“Careful there, Jaha.”
Wells twisted around and saw a tall kid in a bloodstained guard uniform. The boy who’d forced his way onto the dropship—who’d held Wells’s father hostage. “Earth is still in recovery mode. We don’t know how much bullshit it can handle.”
Another wave of snickers and snorts rippled around the fire, and Wells felt a rush of sudden, sharp anger. Because of this kid, his father—the person responsible for protecting the entire human race—had been shot, and he had the nerve to stand there and accuse Wells of bullshit?
“Excuse me?” Wells said, lifting his chin to give the boy his best officer’s stare.
“Cut the crap, okay? Just say what you really mean. If we do exactly what you say, then you won’t report us to your father.”
Wells narrowed his eyes. “Thanks to you, my father is probably in the hospital.” Being given the best possible care, and on his way to a swift recovery, Wells added silently. He hoped it was true.
“If he’s even alive,” Graham interjected, and laughed. For a second, Wells thought he saw the other boy wince.
Wells took a step forward, but then another voice yelled C voWells out from the crowd, stopping him. “So you’re not a spy?”
“A spy?” Wells almost laughed at the accusation.
“Yeah,” the impostor guard agreed. “Spying on us just like these bracelets, right?”
Wells looked at the kid in the ill-fitting guard uniform more closely. Had he been told about the purpose of the bracelets, or had he figured it out on his own? “If the Council wanted to spy on you,” he said, ignoring the comment about the transponders, “don’t you think they’d choose someone a bit less obvious?”
The boy in the bloody uniform smirked. “We can discuss the pros and cons of your father’s administration some other time. But for now, just tell us: If you’re not a spy, what the hell are you doing here? There’s no way anyone will believe you were actually Confined.”
“I’m sorry,” Wells said in a tone that conveyed anything but regret. “You appeared in a stolen guard’s uniform and held my father hostage in order to break onto this ship. I think you’re the one who owes us an explanation.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “I did what I had to do to protect my sister.”
“Your sister?” Wells repeated. People broke the population laws more often on Walden than on Phoenix. But Wells had never heard of anyone having a sibling, not since the Cataclysm.
“That’s right.” The boy crossed his arms and met Wells’s eyes with a challenging stare. “Now I’m going to ask you one more time, what are you really doing here?”
Wells took a step forward. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation, let alone this criminal, who was probably lying about having a sister and who knew what else. But then a flash of movement caught his eye. Clarke was heading toward the fire from the other side of the clearing, where she’d been tending to the injured passengers.
Wells turned back to the tall boy and sighed, his anger draining away. “I’m here for the same reason you are.” His eyes darted toward Clarke, who was still out of earshot. “I got myself Confined to protect someone I care about.”
The crowd fell silent. Wells turned his back on them and started walking, not caring if their eyes followed him as he made his way toward Clarke.
For a moment, the sight of her overwhelmed his brain. The light in the clearing had changed as the sky grew darker, making the flecks of gold in her green eyes appear to glow. She was more beautiful on Earth than he’d ever seen her.
Their eyes locked, and a chill traveled down his spine. Less than a year ago, he’d been able to tell what she was thinking just by looking at her. But now her expression was inscrutable.
“What are you doing here, Wells?” she asked, her voice strained and weary.
She’s in shock, Wells told himself, forcing his mind to wrap around the ill-fitting explanation. “I came for you,” he said softly.
Her face assumed an expression that broke through the barriers, a mixture of sorrow, frustration, and pity that seemed to travel from Clarke’s eyes straight into his chest.
“I wish you hadn’t.” She sighed and pushed past him, striding off without another glance.
Her words knocked the air out of him, and for a moment, all Wells could think about was remembering how to breathe. Then he heard a chorus of murmurs from the bonfire behind him, an Cehiw. d turned, curious despite himself. Everyone was pointing upward at the sky, which was turning into a symphony of color.