Homecoming

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.

Bellamy took a few bouncing steps forward, as if he were heading into camp. Clarke shook her head firmly this time. He stopped, though he didn’t look happy about it. Clarke mouthed a few words and gestured toward him, as if waving him away. He shrugged, and just before he stepped farther back, he gave a little mocking salute before disappearing into the trees.

Glass turned to look at Clarke, who was blushing slightly. She knew Wells was with Sasha, but it hadn’t occurred to her that Clarke could also have met someone new so quickly. Things certainly moved fast down on Earth.

“So, why are you keeping Bellamy in the woods?” Glass teased. “Do you want to make sure you get him all to yourself?” She meant it as an icebreaker, an attempt to tell Clarke that she knew she and Wells had moved on. As soon as Glass uttered the words, though, she realized it hadn’t come out that way.

“I’m not keeping him anywhere,” Clarke said, shooting Glass the same look she used to give her when she said something ditzy during tutorial.

Glass flinched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Clarke must have realized how harsh she’d sounded. Her face softened. “No, I’m sorry,” she said, exhaling. “That wasn’t fair. There’s just… there’s just a lot going on that we haven’t told you about yet.”

Glass let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out.”

“Does that mean you know about Wells?”

“About him and…” Glass trailed off, not sure whether Wells’s secret was hers to share.

“… and Sasha,” Clarke finished for her.

Glass nodded, relieved that Clarke knew as well. “So, you’re okay with all that?” she asked hesitantly.

Before Clarke could respond, a boy with red hair and freckles dashed over. “Clarke, one of the new people says he can’t breathe and he needs a shot of something.”

She let out a small sigh. “He said all that?” The boy nodded. “If he can talk, he’s fine. It’s probably just a mild panic attack. Tell him I’ll be there in a second.” The boy nodded again and ran off.

“Yes, I’m definitely happy for Wells and Sasha. Things with Bellamy are… I mean, I know it hasn’t been that long, but it almost feels like—”