“Had any species already gone extinct? Or did that all happen after the Cataclysm?”

“That’s an interesting question, Clarke. By the middle of the twenty-first century, at least a third of the…”

“I wish she’d go extinct,” Glass muttered, not bothering to blink it to Cora as a message.

Cora laughed, then sighed and placed her head back on her desk. “Wake me up when it’s over.”

Glass groaned. “That girl needs to get a life,” she whispered. “If she doesn’t shut up, I’m going to float her.”

After their tutor finally dismissed them, Glass jumped to her feet and grabbed Cora’s hand. “Come on,” she whined. “I need to find buttons for that dress.”

“Are you going to the Exchange?” Clarke asked eagerly, looking up from her desk. “I’ll come with you. I’m trying to find a pillow for my friend.”

Glass ran her eyes up and down Clarke’s ensemble of pants and a shirt so dowdy, they could’ve come from the Arcadia Exchange. “You can burn those pants, stuff the ashes into the shirt, and voilà, a new pillow for your friend and one less eyesore for us.”

Cora burst out laughing, but the thrill of accomplishment Glass was expecting never came. Clarke’s eyes widened with hurt and surprise, then she pressed her lips together and spun away without a word.

Whatever, Glass thought. That’s what she gets for being a suck-up and ruining everyone else’s day.

Since they’d been kept late, Cora didn’t wind up having time for the Exchange, so Glass went home. She hated shopping by herself. She didn’t like the way the guards stared at her when the officer in charge wasn’t looking. Or the way men stared at her when their wives weren’t looking, for that matter.

On the walk back, she thought about ways to make her father give her more of their ration points. The Remembrance Day Celebration was coming up, and for once, Glass was determined to have a prettier dress than Cora.

She scanned into the flat and tossed her school bag on the floor. “Mom?” she called. “Mom, do you know where Dad is?”

Her mother wandered out from her bedroom. Her face was pale under her artfully applied blush, and her eyes glistened strangely, though it might’ve just been a trick of the light. “What’s wrong?” Glass asked, looking over her shoulder. She wished her father would get here. She never knew what to do when her mother was in one of her moods. “Where’s Dad? Is he still at work? I want to talk to him about my allowance.”

“Your father’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you—?”

“He left us. He’s moving in with”—she closed her eyes for a moment—“that girl from the committee.” Her voice was flat, as if she’d tucked her emotions away as neatly as one of her elaborate dresses.

Glass froze. “What do you mean?”

“It means your allowance is the least of our problems,” Sonja said, sinking onto the couch and closing her eyes. “We have nothing.”

Her feet were cramping and her hands were raw by the time Glass crawled around the corner of the vent that led onto Phoenix. She prayed there wouldn’t be guards on the other side, that she’d be able to turn right around and bring Luke back with her. With everything that was going on, surely she could keep Luke out of sight until they made it to her mother’s flat, and then figure out how to get onto one of the dropships.

Back when she first thought of going to Earth—when she was pulled from her Confinement cell and told that she and ninety-nine others would be sent to the surface on a dropship—the idea of the planet had filled her with terror. But now, a different image of life on the ground began to take shape. Holding hands with Luke as they walked through the woods. Sitting on the top of a hill in perfect, contented silence as they watched a real sunset. Perhaps some cities had survived—what if they could go to Paris like the couple on Luke’s plates?

She was smiling as she reached forward to grasp the grate on the Phoenix side, but she couldn’t take hold. Her fingers scratched around for purchase and found nothing. She could feel the edges of the vent; something flat was covering it, sealing it shut from the other side.

Glass rolled over so her feet were facing the end of the air shaft. She took a deep breath and kicked. Nothing happened. She kicked again, this time crying out in frustration when the grate rattled, but stayed in place. “No!” she exclaimed, wincing as her voice echoed through the vent. Camille must’ve blocked it off from the other side to keep anyone from following her. It made sense—one Walden stowaway had a much better chance of staying hidden than a whole stream of them. But in doing so, she’d sentenced Glass and Luke to die.

Glass hugged her knees to her chest, trying not to imagine the look on Luke’s face when she told him the path was blocked. How he’d use every ounce of self-control to look stoic and brave, but wouldn’t be able to keep the despair from flickering in his eyes.

She’d never get to see her mother. When the oxygen finally ran out on Phoenix, Sonja would be all alone, huddled in her tiny flat as she wheezed a last good-bye to the daughter who’d disappeared without a word.

But just as Glass turned around to start the long crawl back, an idea flitted into her head. An idea so reckless and insane that it might actually work.

If there was no way to get from Walden to Phoenix inside the ship, she would just have to go outside.

CHAPTER 8

Wells

Molly wasn’t any better after breakfast. Her fever had grown worse and she couldn’t stop shivering, no matter how many blankets Wells covered her with.

By midday, Molly was still curled up in one of the now-empty cabins, where she’d been since dawn. Wells surveyed her with a frown. Sweat beaded her pale forehead, and her eyes had an odd, yellowish tinge.

Wells had been avoiding facing Clarke for the first time, but now he had no choice. He bent down, scooped the small girl into his arms, and walked out into the clearing. Most of the camp was too busy whispering about the Earthborn or sparring with Graham’s new spears on the far side of the clearing to notice, though a few people watched curiously as Wells pushed open the door to the infirmary cabin and carried Molly inside.

The Earthborn girl was lying with her back to the door, either asleep or pretending to be. But Clarke was sitting up, staring at her so intensely that she didn’t notice Wells at first.

He stepped over Bellamy, who’d apparently fallen asleep on the floor next to Clarke’s cot, then gently lowered Molly onto one of the other empty beds. When he straightened up, Clarke had turned from the Earthborn, and was now looking at Wells, her eyes wide.

“Hey.” He took a few steps forward. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Clarke said hoarsely, then cleared her throat. “Thank you… for giving me the antidote. You saved my life.” She sounded sincere. There was no trace of lingering anger in her voice, no sign that she still resented Wells for what he’d done during the fire. But her vague, polite tone was almost worse than fury, as if he were a stranger who’d performed some kind service. Was this what it would always be like between them now, he wondered, or could this maybe be a fresh start?

As Wells searched for the right response, Clarke’s eyes drifted to Molly. The detached expression on her face slid away, replaced by a penetrating gaze that was much more familiar. “What’s wrong with Molly?” she asked, her voice sharp with concern.

Grateful to have something else to talk about, Wells told Clarke how the younger girl had suddenly fallen ill. Clarke frowned and started to rise from her bed. “Wait,” Wells said, hurrying over. He placed a hand on Clarke’s shoulder before he had time to think better of it, then snatched it away. “You need to rest. Can you look at her from here?”

“I’m okay,” Clarke said with a shrug. She lowered her feet to the ground and stood up shakily. Wells fought the urge to offer her his arm.

She walked slowly over to Molly, then knelt down for a better look. “Hey, Molly. It’s me, Clarke. Can you hear me?”

Molly only whimpered in response, thrashing against the blanket Wells had wrapped her in. Clarke frowned as she placed her fingers on the girl’s wrist to check her pulse.