The 100 (The 100 Series) (17 page)

Her stomach won out, and Glass leaned over the toilet just in time. She gagged, tears stinging her eyes, then slumped back against the wall. There was no way she’d be able to meet Wells for lunch, although she felt terrible standing him up again. She’d been spending all her time with Luke, and hadn’t been much of a friend to Wells lately. She missed him. He never seemed to resent her flakiness, which somehow made her feel worse. Especially after everything that had happened with his mother, and now Clarke was apparently acting strange… She really needed to catch up with him.

“Glass?” her mother called out from the other side of the door. “What’s going on in there?”

“Nothing,” Glass said, trying to keep her voice light.

“Are you ill?”
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Glass groaned softly. Their new flat had no privacy. She missed their old, spacious flat with the windows full of stars. She still didn’t understand why they’d had to downgrade just because her father had made the unusual and mortifying decision to sever his marriage contract and move out.

“I’m coming in,” her mother’s voice called from the other side of the door. Glass hastily wiped her mouth and tried to rise to her feet but slid back down as another wave of nausea sent her stomach into revolt. The door opened and Glass saw her mother, dressed for an evening out despite the fact that it wasn’t even noon. But before she had a chance to ask where she was
going—or where she was coming
from
—her mother’s eyes widened, and she visibly paled under her generously applied blush. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Glass said, try to shake the haze from her mind long enough to come up with an explanation that would get her mother to leave her alone. Stomach viruses were rare on Phoenix, and anyone who seemed vaguely contagious was required to spend the duration of their illness in quarantine. “I’m fine.”

“Were you”—Sonja looked behind her and lowered her voice, which was ridiculous considering they were the only two people in the flat—“throwing up?”

“Yes, but I’m fine. I think I just—”

“Oh my god,” her mother said, closing her eyes.

“I’m not sick, I promise. I don’t need to be quarantined. I’ve just been nauseous the past few mornings, but it goes away by the afternoon.”

When her mother opened her eyes, she didn’t look any less worried. The room started to spin, and Sonja’s voice grew faint, as if she were speaking from somewhere far away. Glass could barely make out her question, something about how long it’d been since her last—

Suddenly, Glass’s confusion hardened into a ball of dread. She looked up at Sonja and saw the terrifying realization reflected in her mother’s eyes.

“Glass.” Sonja’s voice was hoarse. “You’re pregnant.”

Staring at Luke’s face, full of sympathy and understanding, Glass felt her last bit of self-control shatter. “I’m sorry.” Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to stifle a sob. “I should’ve told you, I just—I didn’t see any reason for both of us to die.”

“Oh, Glass.” Luke reached out and wrapped his arms tight around her. She nestled gratefully into his familiar embrace, her tears spilling onto the jacket of his guard uniform. “I can’t believe it,” he murmured. “I can’t believe you did this all on your own. I knew you were brave, but I never thought… What happened?” he asked finally, and Glass knew what he meant. Who he was referring to.

“He—” She swallowed as she struggled to breathe. It felt like her heart was about to break apart, unable to contain both the grief and relief pouring into her chest. Finally, she just shook her head. There were no words.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, grabbing her hand and lacing his fingers between hers, squeezinher just shog it tight. “I’m so sorry.” He sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this the night you escaped? I had no idea.” He closed his eyes as if to shut out the memory.

“You were with Camille. I knew she was a good friend of yours, and I figured… you’d finally found someone who made you happy.” Glass smiled and wiped away the tears that were still running down her face. “You deserved it, after everything I put you through.”

Luke reached out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s only one person in the universe who can make me happy, and she’s sitting right here with me.” He stared at her, as if drinking her in. “From the moment I saw you again, I knew it wasn’t Camille—she’s a great friend, always will be, but that’s all she is to me now, and I’ve told her that. I love you, Glass. I never stopped loving you. And I never will.”

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, lightly at first, as if giving thei
r mouths a chance to become reacquainted. For a moment it felt like their first kiss all over again. But a moment was all it took.

He pressed against Glass, her lips parting as his mouth sank into hers. She was vaguely aware of his hand tangling in her hair, then slipping down her back, pulling her closer to him as he wrapped his other arm around her waist.

Finally, Glass shifted back and let her lips break away from his. “I love you,” she whispered, needing desperately to say it.
I love you I love you I love you
throbbed through her body as Luke smiled and pulled her back to him.

It was nearly noon, and Clarke had been gone for hours. One of the Arcadian girls had seen her head into the woods earlier that morning, and it had taken all of Wells’s self-control to keep from running after her. The thought of her venturing off on her own made his stomach feel like a punching bag for his imagination. But he had to accept that, of all the people in camp, Clarke knew how to take care of herself. He also knew how important it was to find the missing medicine. Just yesterday, they’d dug another grave.

He wandered toward the de facto cemetery that had cropped up on the far side of the clearing. Over the past few days, Wells had arranged for wooden markers to be placed
at the head of each mound, something he remembered from old photographs. He’d wanted to carve the names onto the crosses, but he only knew the names of three of the five kids sleeping beneath the soil, and it didn’t seem right to leave the others blank.

He shuddered and turned back to the graves. The concept of burying the dead had initially struck him as repulsive, but there hadn’t seemed to be any alternative. The thought of burning the bodies was even worse. But although the normal practice of releasing corpses into space was certainly tidier, there was something reassuring about gathering the dead together. Even in death, they’d never be alone.

It was also strangely comforting to have a place to visit, to say the things you couldn’t say to people you could see. Someone, possibly a Walden girl he’d seen flitting near the trees, had gathered fallen branches and rested them along the wooden markers. In the evening, the pods still glowed to life, casting a soft light over the cemetery that gave it an almost unearthly beauty. It would have been nice to have somewhere on the ship where it wouldn’t have sNhims feweemed strange to talk to his mother.

Wells glanced up at the darkening sky. He had no idea if the Colony lost contact with the dropship when it crashed, but he hoped that the monitors in the bracelets were still transmitting data about their blood composition and heart
rates. They must have collected enough information to prove that Earth was safe, and would surely begin sending groups of citizens down soon. For a moment he dared to let himself hope that his father and Glass would be among them.

“What are you doing over here?”

Wells turned and saw Octavia moving toward him slowly. Her ankle was healing quickly; her limp was starting to look like a saunter.

“I don’t know. Paying my respects, I suppose.” He gestured toward the graves. “But I was just leaving,” he added quickly as he watched her toss her dark hair over her shoulder. “It’s my turn to go for water.”

“I’ll go with you.” Octavia smiled, and Wells looked away uncomfortably. The long lashes that made her look so innocent when she was sleeping in the infirmary tent now lent a feral gleam to her enormous blue eyes.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea with your ankle? It’s a long walk.”

“I’m
fine
,” she said, her voice full of playful exasperation as she fell into stride next to him. “Though you’re very sweet to be concerned. You know,” she went on, increasing her pace to catch up with Wells, who hadn’t noticed he’d lengthened his step, “it’s ridiculous that everyone hangs on to Graham’s every word. You know so much more than he does.”

Wells grabbed one of the empty jugs next to the supply
tent and turned toward the forest. They’d discovered a stream not far from camp, and everyone strong enough to carry a full container took turns going for water. At least, they were
supposed
to take turns. He hadn’t seen Graham go for days.

Octavia paused as Wells stepped across the tree line. “Are you coming?” he asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

She tilted her head back, her eyes widening as she scanned the shadowy outlines of the trees in the fading light. “I’m coming.” Her voice grew quiet as she darted to Wells’s side. “I haven’t been in the woods yet.”

Wells softened. Even he, who’d spent most of his life dreaming about coming to Earth, found it frightening at times—the vastness, the unfamiliar sounds, the sense that anything could be hiding beyond the light of the campfire. And he’d had time to prepare. He could only imagine what it was like for the others, who were snatched from their cells and shoved onto the dropship before they had time to process what was going on, that they were being sent to a foreign planet that had never been more to them than an empty word.

“Careful,” he said, pointing at a tangle of roots hidden by a mass of purple leaves. “The ground gets pretty uneven here.”

Wells took Octavia’s small hand and helped her climb over a fallen tree. It was strange to think that something without
a pulse could die, but the soggy, peeling bark was decidedly corpse-like.

“So is it true?” Octavia asked as they began walking down the slope that led to the stream. “Did you really get yourself Confined so you could come with Clarke?”

“I suppose it is.”

She sighed wistfully. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

Wel sie itls gave her a wry smile. “Trust me, it’s not.”

“What do you mean?” Octavia asked, cocking her head to one side. In the shadows of the forest, she looked almost childlike again.

Wells glanced away, suddenly unable to look her in the eye. He wondered grimly what Octavia would say if she knew the truth.

He wasn’t the brave knight who’d come to rescue the princess. He was the reason she’d been locked away in the dungeon.

Wells glanced at his collar chip for the fourteenth time since he’d sat down two minutes earlier. The message Clarke had sent him earlier that day had sounded anxious, and she’d been acting strange for the past few weeks. Wells had barely seen her, and the few times he managed to track her down, she’d been practically twitching with nervous energy.

He couldn’t help but worry that she was about to break up with him. The only thing that kept the anxiety from burning a hole through his stomach was the knowledge that she probably wouldn’t have chosen the library to dump him. It’d be cruel to tarnish the spot they both loved best. Clarke wouldn’t do that to him.

He heard footsteps and rose to his feet as the overhead lights flickered back on. Wells had been still for so long that the library had forgotten his presence, the dim safety lights on the floor providing the only light. Clarke approached, still wearing her scrubs, which normally made him smile—he loved that she didn’t spend hours stressing over her appearance, like most girls on Phoenix—but the blue top and pants fell too loosely from her frame, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“Hey,” he said, stepping forward to kiss her lightly in greeting. She didn’t move away, but she didn’t kiss him back. “Are you okay?” he asked, even though he knew full well that she wasn’t.

“Wells,” she said, her voice breaking. She blinked back tears. His eyes widened in alarm. Clarke never cried.

“Hey,” he murmured, putting his arm around her to lead her to the couch. Her legs seemed to buckle beneath her. “It’ll be okay, I promise. Just tell me what’s going on.”

She stared at him, and he could see her urge to confide in him battling her fear. “I need you to promise me that you won’t say anything about this to anyone.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“I’m serious. This isn’t gossip. This is real, life-or-death.”