Glass caught another glimpse of Wells at the far end of the clearing, this time walking with a girl who had to be Sasha. Wells threw his arm around the girl’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. It was startling to see Wells so outwardly affectionate and even more startling to think that his girlfriend was an Earthborn. All the questions Glass hadn’t even thought to ask bubbled up to the surface. Did she speak English? Where did she live? What did she eat? And, more important, where did she get her clothes? Glass looked enviously at Sasha’s tight black leggings, which seemed to be made of animal skin, and ran her hands along her own torn, dirty pants.
It was also incredibly disorienting to see Wells kiss anyone but Clarke. Last time she had seen her best friend, he was still so head over heels in love with Clarke that he could barely talk about anything else. But then again, if Glass had learned anything over the last couple of weeks, it was that people can surprise you. She had even surprised herself.
Glass laughed to herself before blushing and looking around to see if anyone noticed. She had to remember to tell Wells that she’d actually spacewalked, alone, along the outside of the ship. Not to mention her several suffocating trips through an air vent from Walden to Phoenix and back again. He’d never believe me, she thought. Then she corrected herself. He never would have believed me before. But now we’ll both believe anything.
With a sigh, Glass skimmed her eyes across the clearing again. She needed to find something to do. Her eyes fell on the hospital cabin. She gathered her courage and started across the clearing toward it, taking care to steer clear of two boys who were carrying something large between them. At first, she thought it was another injured passenger, but then she realized that what she’d taken to be two skinny arms and two long legs were actually four legs. And they were covered with hair, not skin. Glass gasped. It was an animal, a deer, maybe. She shuddered as her gaze landed on its enormous, lifeless brown eyes, and felt a pang of regret that the first animal she saw was a dead one. Earth was nothing like she’d imagined. It was cold and strange, and instead of dazzling Glass with its beauty, it only seemed to be full of death.
Glass turned away and walked up to the infirmary cabin, pausing at the door for a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping inside. From the first instance, she was overwhelmed by the efficiency of the operation, even in such a small space. It was a swirl of activity: Felix and Eric zipped across the room, handing off bandages and rummaging through a bin with small vials and bottles of medications. Octavia tilted a water container to the lips of a boy about her age, who lay on a cot with his leg propped up on a hunk of repurposed plastic from the wreckage. Crash survivors crammed the cots, sprawled across the floor, and even leaned on the wall. And at the center of it all was Clarke, who seemed to be in three places at once. She gave Octavia instructions without looking in her direction, passed Eric a shard of metal they were using to cut bandages, helped an older woman sit up, and pressed her hand against the forehead of a little girl nearby, all without seeming the least bit flustered. Glass had never seen Clarke looking so in control—so in her element.
“Hi, Clarke,” Glass said. The greeting felt humorously inadequate given that it was the first time they’d come face-to-face on Earth, but now wasn’t really the time to say, Hi, Clarke, I hope you’re doing well, and that you aren’t too upset about breaking up with Wells after a traumatic journey to Earth. And, oh yeah, sorry for being such a bitch to you when we were kids.
Clarke’s head shot up, a flash of suspicion crossing her face, then disappearing behind her businesslike demeanor. “Glass. Do you need something? Are you hurt?”
Glass tried not to bristle at Clarke’s curt tone. They had never been particularly friendly—Glass had always found Clarke a little too serious for her taste. Glass was always more concerned with tracking down pretty accessories at the Exchange, while Clarke was preoccupied with learning how to save lives. But they had always shared a deep affection for Wells and a concern for his well-being. And at this point, any familiar face seemed like a friendly one. Glass had nothing left to lose.
“Oh, no—sorry. I’m fine. I just wondered if you needed any help,” Glass stammered.
Clarke stared at Glass for a moment, as if trying to determine whether she was being serious. Glass waited awkwardly, until Clarke finally said, “Sure. Definitely. The more hands the better.”
“Great,” Glass exhaled. She cast her eyes around the room, searching for a task that needed doing. She spotted a teetering pile of dirty metal bins and cups. She pointed at them. “I could clean those.”
Clarke nodded before turning back to the woman in front of her. “That would be great,” she said to Glass over her shoulder. “Just be sure to take them to the south stream, not the one we get our drinking water from. But they need to be sterilized over the fire first. You just have to use a stick and hold them over the flame for five minutes or so.”
“Got it.” Glass scooped up the first few items from the top of the stack and moved toward the door.
“Glass,” Clarke called after her. “Do you know how to get to the south stream?”
Glass shook her head, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “No, sorry. I was just going to ask someone…”
Clarke gave her patient a few instructions, then grabbed an armful of metal bins and followed Glass. “I’ll show you,” Clarke said. “I could use some air.”
The girls stepped into the sunlight together, squinting and taking in big gulps of cool air that seemed almost refreshing after the stuffy cabin.
As she and Clarke walked toward the fire pit at the center of camp, Glass caught a quick flash of movement from the corner of her eye. She whipped her head toward the tree line and squinted. Back in the shadows, about ten feet into the woods, a tall, dark-haired boy stood halfway behind a tree. He was staring at them. Glass sucked in her breath, startled, and stopped walking.
“What is it?” Clarke asked. She followed Glass’s gaze and spotted the boy.
“Should we tell someone?” Glass asked nervously. “Is that—is that one of the Earthborns who want to hurt us?”
Clarke shook her head. “No, that’s Bellamy. He’s one of us, but he’s not supposed to be here right now.”
Glass heard something in Clarke’s voice—was it worry? Fear? Much to Glass’s surprise, Clarke furrowed her brow and shot Bellamy a strange look—almost like a warning. But the boy just met Clarke’s eyes and grinned, unruffled by her serious expression.