“I couldn’t either at first, but it seems to be true. And that’s only the beginning.” In a surprisingly calm voice, she told Glass about what Bellamy had done to get on the dropship with his sister, Octavia, how he’d taken the Chancellor hostage before knowing that he was his father. Clarke’s face grew even more serious when she told Glass her biggest fear, her worries about what the guards would do to Bellamy when they discovered that he was responsible for the Chancellor’s shooting. “I’ve been trying to get him to leave camp, but he refuses,” she said in a tone Glass couldn’t quite read, a strange mixture of frustration and pride.

Glass struggled to take it all in and made a mental note to talk to Luke. Maybe there was something he could do to throw the other guards off Bellamy’s scent. “Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s even crazier than my spacewalk.”

“You spacewalked?” Clarke’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“I spacewalked,” Glass said, a tiny hint of pleasure sneaking into her voice. “It was the only way to get to Phoenix. Otherwise my boyfriend Luke and I plus a whole lot of other people would have died on Walden.”

The girls stood in silence for a moment, each struggling to process the momentous news the other had just shared. Then the door to the hospital cabin opened behind them, and Octavia stepped out.

“Clarke,” she called. “We need you in here for a sec.”

“Coming,” Clarke replied. She turned to Glass. “I’m glad you’re here, Glass.”

“Me too,” Glass said with a smile. It was true that she was pleased to see Clarke. Whether she was happy to be on Earth was another matter entirely, but at least it wasn’t quite as cold and lonely as she’d always imagined, staring down at the thick shroud of gray clouds from the ship. Especially now that it seemed like she might have a friend.

CHAPTER 6

Bellamy

“Screw this,” Bellamy grumbled to himself, kicking a clump of dirt into the air. He watched it sail in a smooth arc between two trees before landing with a plop a few meters away. Footsteps pierced the silence of the woods, where he lurked behind a cluster of tall trees, keeping himself out of sight. He peered through the foliage into the clearing, watching three of the new arrivals—a man and two women—wrinkle their noses at the deer roasting over the fire. The deer Bellamy had killed that morning and had passed to Antonio to take back to the camp. They could either learn to eat meat or starve to death. Or, better yet, let them find their own food.

When the hundred landed, there was no one there to greet them or show them the ropes. No one taught Bellamy how to track animals, use a bow and arrow, or skin a two-headed deer. He’d figured it out himself, the way Clarke had figured out how to treat injuries and illnesses she’d never seen before. The way Wells figured out how to build a cabin. Even Graham, that otherwise useless slimeball, had figured out how to make a spear. If Graham could do it, these helpless fools could do it too.

Bellamy would have given his best bow to strut right into the middle of camp, his head held high, and defy the bastards out there to just try to arrest him. He knew that once the smoke cleared and the Colonists’ ears stopped ringing, one of them would recognize him as the boy who had held the Chancellor hostage on the launch deck. It didn’t matter that Bellamy hadn’t pulled the trigger—he was the reason the Chancellor got shot. He hadn’t had a chance to ask Wells if there had been any news on his father… correction: their father. Would he ever get used to that idea? He certainly wasn’t going to find out if the man had lived or died by standing out in the woods by himself.

This camp was Bellamy’s home. He had helped build it with his bare hands, side by side with the rest of the hundred. He’d carried logs from the woods and laid them down to build a foundation. He had single-handedly kept the group alive with the animals he hunted. He wasn’t going to leave it all behind just because he’d had the audacity to try to protect his sister. It wasn’t his fault the Colony had some stupid population rule that made Octavia a freak of nature and gave other people permission to treat her like a criminal.

A branch snapped, and Bellamy spun around with his fist raised, then lowered it bashfully when he saw a little boy staring up at him. “What are you doing out here?” Bellamy asked, looking around to make sure he wasn’t being trailed by anyone else. It was bizarre seeing adults in the camp, but it was even stranger seeing little kids.

“I wanted to see the fishes,” he said, though his lisp made the word sound like fithith.

Bellamy crouched down so he was eye level with the boy, who looked to be about three or four. “Sorry, buddy. The fish live in the lake. That’s a long way from here. But look.” He pointed toward the trees. “There are birds up there. Want to see some birds?”

The boy nodded. Bellamy stood up and craned his head back. “There,” he said, pointing to a spot where the leaves were rustling. “You see?”

The boy shook his head. “No.”

“Let me help you get a closer look.” Bellamy reached down, scooped the boy into his arms, and lifted him onto his shoulders, making the toddler squeal with delight. “Keep it down, okay? No one’s supposed to know I’m out here. Now, look, there’s the bird. See the birdie?” Bellamy couldn’t see the boy’s face, so he took the silence as a yes. “So where are your parents? Do they know where you went?”