Standing between Bellamy and Wells, Clarke felt a strange mix of elation and sorrow. That seemed to be how things worked on Earth. There was too much happening, too much to process ever to feel one emotion at a time.
She turned to the side to look at Wells, wondering if he felt the same way, or if his grief were all consuming.
The sun cracked the horizon line, sending orange and pink scouts racing ahead of it into the sky, as Max laid his only child to rest. In a hoarse voice that made Clarke’s chest ache, he shared some of his favorite memories of Sasha, some of which prompted chuckles from the assembled Earthborns, while others left hundreds of eyes glistening with tears.
As he wiped a tear away from his own eye, Max gestured to Wells and asked if he wanted to say anything. He nodded, let go of Clarke’s hand, and stepped forward to speak.
“The connection we feel to other people isn’t bound by geography or space,” Wells began. Although Clarke could see him trembling, his voice was strong and clear. “Sasha and I grew up in two different worlds, each of us wondering and dreaming about what was out there. I watched from above, never knowing for sure whether humans had survived here on Earth. I didn’t know if we’d ever set foot on this planet again or if it would happen in my lifetime. And she looked up”—he pointed at the fading stars, still faintly visible in the dark blue sky—“and wondered if there was anyone up there. Had anyone survived the voyage into space? Had people managed to stay alive up there all these hundreds of years? For both of us, getting answers to our questions seemed so unlikely. But a million tiny forces moved us toward each other, and we got our answers. We found each other, even if it was just for a moment.” Wells took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Sasha was my answer.”
Clarke shivered, though this time, it wasn’t from the cold. Wells had said it perfectly. Everything about their time on Earth had been so unlikely, so astonishing. And yet these months were more real to her than all the years she’d spent on the Colony. Clarke could barely remember what mornings were like without crisp air, dewy grass, and birdsong. She could no longer imagine working long hours under the medical center’s fluorescent bulbs instead of helping her patients heal in the sunlight, like their bodies were designed to do.
She tried to picture what her future would have been like if none of this had ever happened—if she hadn’t told Wells about her parents’ experiments, if he hadn’t reported them to his father, if she hadn’t been Confined, if Wells hadn’t loosened the airlock, if the hundred had never come to Earth—but the scene just dissolved into blackness. There was nothing there but the past. This was her life now.
Clarke watched as a few of Sasha’s friends lifted her body and gently laid her into the ground. She whispered a silent good-bye to the girl who helped make Earth their home, who’d brought Wells back to life when he’d been stuck in darkness. He would be okay, Clarke told herself, as she watched him join the Earthborns in throwing handfuls of dirt into the grave. If she’d learned anything on Earth, it was that Wells was stronger than he realized. They all were.
Bellamy took Clarke’s hand, then leaned in and whispered, “Should we go check on your parents?”
She turned to him and tilted her head to the side. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be meeting my parents?” she teased. “After all, we’ve been dating less than a month.”
“A month in Earth time is like, ten years in space time, don’t you think?”
Clarke nodded. “You’re right. And I suppose that means that I can’t get mad at you if you decide to call it off after a few months, because that’s really a few decades.”
Bellamy wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her close. “I want to spend eons with you, Clarke Griffin.”
She rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “Glad to hear it, because there’s no going back now. We’re here for good.”
As she said the words, a strange sense of peace enveloped her, momentarily softening the pain of the day. It was true. After spending three centuries desperately trying to get back to Earth, they’d made it. They were finally home.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I am immeasurably grateful to the tremendously talented team at Alloy. Josh, your creative instincts are even more on target than your golf swing, and it’s a pleasure to watch your brain in action. Sara, your intelligence and kindness create an environment where stories can flourish, and make me feel so very much at home. Les, thank you for believing in this project and using your special brand of magic to help it take flight.
Huge space hugs to Heather David, whose creativity and tenacity resulted in one of the best days of my life. And thank you to Romy Golan and Liz Dresner for turning my jumble of words into a gorgeous book.
I remain in awe of Joelle Hobeika, who dazzles me with her talent, storytelling prowess, and ability to make everything more fun. The same goes for Annie Stone, the smartest, most confidence-inspiring editor a writer could ask for.
A million thanks to the incredible team at Little, Brown for their hard work, creativity, and publishing acumen. And a special thank-you to my lovely editor Pam Gruber, whose sharp vision for the series kept us on course, and to my fabulous publicist, Hallie Patterson.
I also feel incredibly lucky to be working with Hodder & Stoughton, who’ve blown me away with their dedication and enthusiasm for The 100. In particular, thank you to Kate Howard, Emily Kitchin, and Becca Mundy for making a home for me (and a hundred teen space delinquents) across the pond.
As always, thank you to my wonderful, hilarious, supportive friends. I owe every single one of you a drink at Puck Fair/the Red Bar/Jack the Horse/Henry Public/Café Luxxe/Father’s Office/Freud and all the other places I showed up to half asleep during various phases of writing lockdown. A special medal of meritorious service goes to Gavin Brown, who went above and beyond to keep this story “afloat.”
I am also hugely indebted to Jennifer Shotz, whose talent and imagination shaped this story in countless ways.
Thank you to my family, especially my amazing, inspirational, endlessly supportive parents, Sam and Marcia, who turned me into a writer. You are forgiven.
And last but not least, a very special thank-you to my readers whose enthusiasm makes me feel like the luckiest girl on Earth. #Bellarke forever.
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Alloy Entertainment, LLC
Key artwork © 2015 Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Cover design by Liz Dresner
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