But before she had a chance to grab hold of any of the words flitting through her mind, another figure appeared in the door, a girl with wavy red hair.
“Glass?”
Glass tried to smile at Camille, Luke’s childhood friend, a girl who’d been as close to him as Glass was to Wells. And now she was here… in Luke’s flat. Of course, Glass thought with a strained kind of bitterness. She’d always wondered if there was more to their relationship than Luke had admitted.
“Would you like to come in?” Camille asked with exaggerated politeness. She wrapped her hand around Luke’s, but Glass felt as if Camille’s fingers had plunged into her heart instead. While Glass had spent moneatad spenths in Confinement pining for Luke until his absence felt like a physical ache, he’d moved on to someone else.
“No… no, that’s okay,” Glass said, her voice hoarse. Even if she managed to find the words, it would be impossible to tell Luke the truth now. Seeing them together made it all the more ridiculous that she’d come so far—risked so much—to see a boy who had already moved on.
“I just came to say hello.”
“You came to say hello?” Luke repeated. “After almost a year of ignoring my messages, you thought you’d just drop by?” He wasn’t even trying to hide his anger, and Camille dropped his hand. Her smile hardened into a grimace.
“I know. I’m—I’m sorry. I’ll leave you two alone.”
“What’s really going on?” Luke asked, exchanging a look with Camille that made Glass feel both desperately foolish and terribly alone.
“Nothing,” Glass said quickly, trying and failing to keep her voice from trembling. “I’ll talk to you… I’ll see you…” She cut herself off with a weak smile and took a deep breath, ignoring her body’s furious plea to stay close to him.
But just as she turned, she saw a flash of a guard uniform out of the corner of her vision. She inhaled sharply and turned her face as the guard passed.
Luke pressed his lips together as he looked at something just beyond Glass’s head. He was reading a message on his cornea slip, Glass realized. And from the way his jaw was tightening, she got the sickening sense it was about her.
His eyes widened with understanding, and then horror. “Glass,” he said hoarsely. “You were Confined.” It wasn’t a question. Glass nodded.
He shifted his gaze back to Glass for a moment, then sighed and reached out to place his hand on her back. She could feel the pressure of his fingers through the fabric of her thin T-shirt, and despite her anxiety, her skin thrilled at his touch. “Come on,” he said, pulling her toward him. Camille stepped to the side, looking annoyed, as Glass stumbled into the flat. Luke quickly shut the door behind them.
The small living area was dark—Luke and Camille had been inside with the lights off. Glass tried to push the implications of that fact out of her head as she watched Camille sit down in the armchair that Luke’s great-grandmother had found at the Exchange. Glass shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to take a seat. Being Luke’s ex-girlfriend somehow felt odder than being an escaped convict. She’d had six months in Confinement to come to terms with her criminal record, but Glass had never imagined what it would be like to stand in this flat feeling like a stranger.
“How did you escape?” he asked.
Glass paused. She had spent all her time in Confinement imagining what she would say to Luke if she ever got the chance to see him again. And now she had finally made her way back to him, and all the speeches she’d practiced felt flimsy and selfish. He was doing fine; she could see that now. Why should she tell him the truth, except to win him back and make herself feel less alone? And so, in a shaky voice, Glass quickly told him about the hundred and their secret mission, the hostage situation, and the chase.
“But I still don’t understand.” Luke shot a glance over his shoulder at Camille, who had given up pretending that she wasn’t paying attention. “Why were you Confined in the first place?”
Glass looked away, unable to meet his eyesmbleet his as her brain raced for an explanation. She couldn’t tell him, not now, not when he’d moved on. Not when it was so obvious he didn’t feel the same way for her.
“I can’t talk about it,” she said quietly. “You wouldn’t underst—”
“It’s fine.” Luke cut her off sharply. “You’ve made it clear that there are lots of things I can’t understand.”
For the briefest of moments, Glass wished she’d stayed on the dropship with Clarke and Wells. Although she was standing next
to the boy she loved, she couldn’t imagine feeling any lonelier on the abandoned Earth than she did right now.
CHAPTER 5
Clarke
For the first ten minutes, the prisoners were too rattled by the shooting to notice that they were floating through space, the only humans to leave the Colony in almost three hundred years. The rogue guard had gotten what he wanted. He’d pushed the Chancellor’s limp body forward just as the dropship door was closing, and then stumbled into a seat. But from the shocked expression on his pale face, Clarke gathered that gunfire had never been part of the plan.
Yet for Clarke, watching the Chancellor get shot was less alarming than what she’d seen in the moments beforehand.
Wells was on the dropship.
When he’d first appeared in the door, she’d been sure it was a hallucination. The chance of her losing her mind in solitary was infinitely higher than the chance of the Chancellor’s son ending up in Confinement. She’d been shocked enough when, a month after her own sentencing, Wells’s best friend, Glass, had appeared in the cell down the row from her. And now Wells, too? It seemed impossible, but there was no denying it. She’d watched him jump to his feet during the standoff, then crumple back into his seat as the real guard’s gun went off and the imposter burst through the door, covered in blood. For a moment, an old instinct gave her the urge to run over and comfort Wells. But something much heavier than her harness kept her feet rooted to the floor. Because of him, she’d watched her parents be dragged off to the execution chamber. Whatever pain he was feeling was no less than he deserved.
“Clarke.”
She glanced to the side and saw Thalia grinning at her from a few rows ahead. Her old cell mate twisted in her seat, the only person in the dropship not staring at the guard. Despite the grim circumstances, Clarke couldn’t help smiling back. Thalia had that effect. In the days after Clarke’s arrest and her parents’ execution, when her grief felt so heavy it was difficult to breathe, Thalia had actually made Clarke laugh with her impression of the cocky guard whose shuffle turned into a strut whenever he thought the girls were looking at him.