by Kass Morgan
“Oh god,” Glass muttered, feeling her breath catch in her chest. They were already so far back in the crowd—they couldn’t afford to slow down anymore.
“Luke?” another voice echoed hers. Glass spun around and saw Camille staring at them. Her cheeks were flushed, as if she’d been running, and sweat clung to the hair that’d come loose from her ponytail. “You’re here! You made it!” Ignoring Glass, Camille pulled Luke into a hug, then reached down to grab his arm. “The dropships are filling up. We need to move quickly! Come with me!”
Some of the concern drained from Luke’s face as he smiled in relief at his ex-girlfriend, his childhood friend whom he had known as long as Glass had known Wells. “Camille,” he said. “Thank god you’re okay. When Glass told me what you did, I…” He trailed off. “Forget about it. There’s no time. You go on,” he said, giving her a nod. “We’ll be there in a second.”
Camille looked from Luke to Sonja to Glass, and her face darkened. “You need to move,” she said, looking only at Luke. “You’ll never make it if you have to take care of them.”
“I’m not leaving them,” Luke said, his voice suddenly hard.
Camille looked from Luke to Glass, but before she could respond, she was knocked to the side by a large man shoving his way down the packed corridor. Luke grabbed Camille’s arm to steady her, and as she regained her balance, she placed her hand on top of his.
“Are you serious? Luke, that girl is not worth dying for.” Even with the roar of the crowd, Glass could hear the venom in Camille’s voice.
Luke shook his head as if to keep the words from getting too close to him, but even as he shot Camille a look of frustration, Glass felt a cold wash of fear. Camille wanted Luke to come with her—and Camille didn’t stop until she got what she wanted.
“You don’t know her. You don’t know what she did,” Camille insisted.
Glass caught her eyes in warning. She wouldn’t dare tell Glass’s secret, would she? Not here and now, not after Glass had helped her get safely to Phoenix. They had a deal. But Camille’s eyes revealed nothing. They were hard and dark.
“I don’t know what you think you’re talking about, but I love her. And I’m not going anywhere without her.” Luke took Glass’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze before turning back to Camille. “Look, I’m sorry you’re upset, but I never meant to hurt you, and I hardly think this is the—”
Camille cut him off with a bitter laugh. “You think this is because you dumped me for her?” She paused. In that brief moment Glass felt her heart go still in her chest. “Didn’t you ever wonder what really happened to Carter? What Infraction he was suddenly accused of?”
Luke stared at her. “What could you possibly know about that?”
“He was arrested for violating population laws. Apparently, some girl on Phoenix named him as the father of her unregistered child.”
A woman holding a baby paused to stare at Camille, but then tore her eyes away from the group and kept moving.
“No,” Luke whispered. His grip on Glass’s arm tightened. Around them, people were shouting and running forward toward the dropships, but Glass couldn’t bring a cell in her body to move.
“They didn’t even bother to run a DNA test, from what I heard. They just took the little slut’s word for it. I guess she was trying to keep the real father safe. But, honestly, what kind of person would do something like that?”
Luke turned to Glass. “It’s not true, is it?” It was more of a plea than a question. “Glass. It can’t be true.”
Glass said nothing. She didn’t have to. He could see the truth written on her face. “Oh my god,” he whispered, taking a step away from her. He shut his eyes and winced. “You didn’t… you told them it was Carter?”
When he opened his eyes, they blazed with a fury far worse than anything she could’ve imagined. “Luke… I…” She tried to speak, but the words died on her lips.
“You had them kill my best friend.” His voice was hollow, as if the emotion had been burned out of him. “He died because of you.”
“I didn’t have a choice. I did it to save you!” Before the words left her mouth, she knew it was the wrong thing to say.
“I would’ve rather died,” he said quietly. “I would have rather died than let an innocent person take the fall for me.”
“Luke,” Glass gasped, reaching for him.
But he had already turned off in the direction of the launch deck, leaving Glass’s fingers clutching empty air.
CHAPTER 21
Wells
“I’m sorry about that,” Wells said, releasing Sasha with a sigh.
He hadn’t been all that surprised when he and the others stumbled across Sasha and Clarke in the woods, heading in what was surely the direction of the Earthborns’ camp. He couldn’t even bring himself to be angry with Clarke—she was only doing what he should’ve done himself. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to turn toward Graham with a condescending stare and order him back to camp. “I’ll handle this. You should go get in the water. That looked like it hurt,” he’d added with a meaningful glance at Graham’s crotch, where Sasha had kicked him. One of the other boys snickered. They had all exchanged uncertain glances, but then started walking toward the stream. Without another word, Wells had taken Sasha back toward camp, staying silent until they’d been walking long enough to lose the others.
“I’m sorry about everything,” he continued. It wasn’t enough, but he needed to say it, anyway. “We should’ve let you go a long time ago.” Keeping Sasha as their prisoner had made sense at the time, but now Wells couldn’t look at the marks on her wrist without feeling a surge of nausea and regret. If the next dropship landed right now, and his father emerged, what would he think? What would he say to Wells when he found out that they’d essentially kidnapped the very first Earthborn they’d encountered? Would he deem his son a hero or a fool? A coward or a criminal?
“It’s okay,” Sasha said, tilting her head to the side, as if trying to survey Wells from a new angle. “Although, for a second there, I thought you were actually furious.” She lowered her voice in a terrible imitation of his. “I’ll handle this.”
“Why would I be furious?” he asked.
Sasha gave him a searching look. The early evening sky was a deep orange, and the light filtering through the leaves made her green eyes glow. “Because I’m supposed to be your prisoner.”
Wells looked away, suddenly embarrassed. “I’m sorry I got carried away. We were all scared after Asher and Octavia, and I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I understand,” she said softly.
They’d both stopped walking, and although the light was fading, Wells was in no hurry to get back to camp. “Want to rest for a little bit?” he asked, pointing to a moss-covered log that lay ahead.
“Sure.”
They sat, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Wells was staring straight ahead, watching the trees fade into silhouettes until they were almost impossible to distinguish from the shadows. Then he glanced over at Sasha, and saw her looking at him with an expression he hadn’t seen in a long time. Not since the days when he and Clarke used to sit on the observation deck, sharing the bits of information they’d saved up all day for each other, knowing that the other was the only person in the universe they wanted to share it with.
“It’s not your fault,” Sasha said, breaking the silence. “You were doing what you thought was best to keep them safe. It isn’t easy, making those kinds of decisions. I know that. And I also know the difference between you when you’re trying to be the leader and you when you get to just be a boy.”
“It’s funny you should say that,” he said, surprised.
“Say what?”
“That you see the difference between me as a leader and me as a person.”
“I believe I said boy,” she corrected. He could hear the smile in her voice. Above them, the blossoms on one of the strange nocturnal trees were glowing pink, as if
the petals were clinging to bits of sunset.
“Well, I gave myself a promotion.”
“Person is definitely a step up from boy.” Sasha nodded in mock gravity. “Although I’m not sure they’re quite the same species.”
He reached out and tugged lightly on a piece of the silky black hair that swept down her shoulders. “I haven’t decided yet if we’re the same species.”
She grinned and bumped his shoulder playfully, then scooted over to close the distance between them. “Why is it funny, though?” she asked.
Wells had almost forgotten his original point, he was so lost in the sight of her, her eyes luminous in the evening light. “Oh, just that I always used to think about my father that way. There was the Chancellor, and then there was my dad. Sometimes, it felt like they were two completely separate people.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Sasha said quietly. “Your dad is going to be so proud of you when he comes down.”
If he comes down, Wells thought. He fell silent as the now-familiar pain crept into his chest.
“Look!” Sasha was pointing up to the sky, where the first intrepid star was emerging from the gathering darkness. “Make a wish.”
“A wish?” Wells repeated, wondering if he’d heard her correctly.
Sasha pointed to the sky. “You’re supposed to make a wish when the first star appears.”
Wells turned to Sasha to see if she was joking, but her face was sincere. It must be some Earthborn custom, he realized. If stars granted wishes to people living in space, his life would be very different. His mother would still be alive. His father wouldn’t have been shot.
He had nothing to lose, so he closed his eyes. He started to wish for his father to come to Earth, but then he realized what his father would think of that. Non nobis solum nati sumus. Instead, he thought, I wish that Bellamy would find Octavia, and that we could live peacefully with the Earthborns.
He looked back at Sasha, who was watching him with a small smile. “Don’t you want to know what I wished for?” he teased, but she shook her head emphatically.
“Oh no,” she protested. “You can’t ever tell anyone your wishes. They have to be secret.”
Wells knew plenty about keeping secrets—after all, he’d learned from the best.
Wells hadn’t been able to forget about his father’s lie. He’d spent the week following his birthday paying extra attention to everything the Chancellor did or said, hoping some small detail would explain why he’d lied about missing dinner for a Council meeting. But there was nothing. Wells’s father still left at precisely the same time each morning, before the circadian lights in the hallway began to chase the darkness away, returning just in time to kiss Wells’s mother on the cheek before she went to bed—she’d been so tired lately—and interrogate Wells about his schoolwork. His mother liked to joke that “how did you do on your calculus exam?” was Chancellor-speak for “I love you, and I take pride in your accomplishments.” Wells knew his father really was at work late, because he’d snuck out multiple times, hurrying to his father’s office and pressing his ear against the door. Each time, his pounding heart had been appeased by the sound of the Council arguing in weary tones, or the soft clank of his father’s cup on his desk that marked another sip of tea.
So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that his father was hiding something—something big?
By the time Unity Day came around, Wells could hardly look at his father without feeling a stab of unease. Wells always hated Unity Day, when he had to spend the whole morning standing between his parents, doing his best not to look bored as visiting children from Walden and Arcadia marched by.
For as long as Wells could remember, he’d spent the ceremony staring up surreptitiously at the boughs of the Eden Tree. If he looked at just the right angle, he could imagine that he was an explorer lost in a forest. Sometimes, he fought a hungry tiger. Other times, he built a boat to sail down a dangerous river.
But this year, he couldn’t take his eyes off his father. The Chancellor, who normally observed the proceedings with a bland smile, was staring intently at one of the orphans from the Walden Care Center. It was so unlike him that Wells found himself startled into speaking.
“What’s going on?” he whispered to his father.
“What are you talking about?” The Chancellor gave a brief, sharp look before returning his attention to the kids from the Care Center, who’d begun to recite the poem they had been taught for the occasion.
Anger bubbled up in Wells’s chest. “What are you hiding?” he hissed.
This time the Chancellor looked straight at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, speaking very slowly. “Now be quiet and behave yourself before you embarrass me and your mother.”
His tone was normal—clipped, terse—but there was something different about the Chancellor, something in his eyes Wells hadn’t seen before.
Fear.
“You can tell me if your wish came true, though,” Sasha whispered. She was sitting so close to him, Wells could feel her breath on his cheek.
“What?” he asked, startled.
“Your wish. Has it come true?”
“Oh,” he said, suddenly confused. “Is it supposed to be immediate? Because mine might take a while.”
“I see.” There was a faint hint of disappointment in her voice, which confused him.
“What did you wish for?”
Sasha leaned forward and kissed him.
Wells hesitated for a moment, a million thoughts whirring around his brain, but then Sasha slid her arms around his waist, and all those thoughts were silenced. He pulled her closer to him, losing himself in the kiss. Finally, she broke away and put her mouth to his ear.
“That’s what I wished for,” she whispered, her breath tickling him.
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I’m glad your wish came true.” He felt like he could stay in the woods with Sasha forever. There was nothing he wanted more than to spend the night watching the stars appear, using each silvery glimmer as an excuse to bring his lips to hers.
But of course, that wasn’t a real option. We aren’t born for ourselves alone. Wells couldn’t abandon the others after the horror of that day. He needed to get back to help bury Priya, to comfort those who wouldn’t be able to sleep. To restrain those whose grief and fear might turn into a need for vengeance.
“You need to go,” Wells said, unable to keep his voice from cracking.
“Go?”
“Yes,” he said, this time more firmly. “Go home, just like you and Clarke were planning to. It’s not safe for you here—you saw what Bellamy did, and I know what Graham is capable of.” He reached through the darkness to grab her hand. “Will you make it there safely alone?”
“Home,” she said, slightly wistfully. Sasha smiled, a slow, sad smile. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.” She leaned forward and kissed him again, lightly, before vanishing into the darkness.
If it weren’t for the tingle on his lips, he might’ve thought she’d never been there at all.
CHAPTER 22
Bellamy
Even with the crackle of the flames, the silence was unbearable.
He wanted to ask her why she’d done it. Why she’d lied about Lilly. But whenever he tried to shape his thoughts into words, they died on his lips.
Eventually, he’d grabbed his bow and a few arrows and went in search of something for dinner. By the time he returned with a rabbit slung over his shoulder, Clarke had spread out their bedrolls. He noticed with a strange mix of relief and disappointment that she’d placed them far apart.
Twilight had settled over the trees, and the small campfire glowed in welcome. Clarke was sitting on the ground, turning a watch over in her hand. He wondered where she’d gotten it, and if it had to do with what she’d said before, about her parents having been on the first mission to Earth. The light from the flames flickered across her face, momentarily illuminating wh
at might’ve been a tear running down her cheek. But when she spoke, her voice was steady. “Thanks,” she said, nodding at the rabbit, quickly rubbing her eye with the back of her hand.
Bellamy nodded, but didn’t speak as he skinned the rabbit and began methodically placing the chunks of meat on a sharp stick.
“Want me to do that?” Clarke asked as she watched him crouch over the fire.
He winced as a small cloud of ash blew into his face. “I’ve got it under control.”
“And all this time, I thought you just stood around looking pretty.”
“What?” Bellamy jerked around to face Clarke, ignoring the sizzle of the meat that was now burning.
“Sorry,” Clarke said quickly. “It was a joke. Everyone knows that you’re the reason we’re still alive.”
“No, it’s not that.” Bellamy turned to salvage the rabbit, before it turned into a charred crisp. I thought you just stood around looking pretty. “It just… you made me think of something.” He spoke so quietly, she probably hadn’t even heard him over the crackle of the fire, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to remember in peace.
“Come on,” Bellamy panted. He pulled Lilly around a corner, then paused to let them catch their breath. “You… okay?”
She nodded, too winded to speak.
“We… need… to… keep… moving,” Bellamy said between gasps.
He’d been an idiot to sneak Lilly onto Phoenix. But he’d be worse than an idiot if he didn’t get her off.
He’d be a killer.
He should’ve thought it through. He should’ve been practical. But the wistful look that appeared in her eyes every time she talked about reading had melted any sense of reason away. She’d been dying to return to the Phoenix library ever since she saw it in elementary tutorial years ago.
The thud of approaching footsteps made them both jump. “Let’s just leave the book and run for it,” Bellamy said, pulling her down the hall. “That’s really what they care about. They might not come after us if they get it back.”