Bellamy froze as a wave of terror washed over him. She was gone. They’d taken her. He was all alone. But then a muffled stomp from the kitchen reached his ears. He sighed as his panic was quickly replaced by relief, then excitement. She was out of bed!
He ran into the kitchen. His mother was facing the small, round window that looked out into the dark staircase. One hand was placed on her lower back, as if it was hurting her. “Mom!” he called. “Look what I got you.”
His mother inhaled sharply but didn’t turn around. “Bellamy,” she said, as though he were a neighbor dropping by for an unexpected visit. “You’re back. Leave the food on the table and go to your room. I’ll be right there.”
Disappointment pressed down on him, weighing his feet to the floor. He wanted to see the look on his mother’s face when she saw the fruit. “Look!” he urged, stretching his arms forward, unsure what she could see in the reflection of the dark, dusty window.
She twisted her head to look at him over her shoulder. “What are those?” She narrowed her eyes. “Apples?” She pressed her lips together and rubbed the side of her head like she used to do when she came home from work. Before she got sick. “How much did they—never mind. Just go to your room, okay?”
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.