A group of girls Glass’s age were walking toward the fire, whispering urgently, but as they passed Glass, they fell silent and stared at her warily. “Hi,” Glass said, eager to start out on the right foot. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
One of the girls, a tall brunette whose carefully torn shorts showed off her long, unbelievably toned legs, narrowed her eyes as she looked Glass up and down. “You were supposed to be on the dropship with us, weren’t you?”
Glass nodded. “Yes, I was taken from the detention center, just like the rest of you.” It was the first time she’d voluntarily confessed to having been Confined. “But I snuck off at the last minute.” Snuck off was a somewhat inaccurate way to describe her life-or-death sprint onto Walden to find Luke, but she sensed that now wasn’t the time for a play-by-play of her dramatic escape.
“Yeah, snuck off, okay,” a girl with an Arcadian accent said, exchanging glances with her friends. “Must be nice to know people who can call in favors.”
Glass bit her lips, wishing there were some way to make it clear how much she’d gone through, that she hadn’t exactly spent the past few weeks living it up on Phoenix. She had almost asphyxiated on Walden and barely made it onto the last ship. She had just watched her own mother die, the reality of which was still pummeling her chest with alternating waves of searing pain and suffocating numbness.
“You should just hang out with the others,” one of the girls said, a little more kindly. She gestured toward a group of other recent arrivals who were clustered on the other side of the fire, staring at their shocking new surroundings in wide-eyed wonder.
Glass nodded and watched the girls walk off, knowing full well she wasn’t welcome among the recent arrivals either. Most of them had seen her board the dropship with Vice Chancellor Rhodes, taking the seat the others had so desperately hoped would be filled by one of the friends and family members they’d been forced to leave behind. If only her mom were here. She’d had a special gift for making herself at home in any social situation and helping everyone around her feel at ease as well. Sonja might not have known how to light a fire or chop wood any more than Glass did, but her warm smile and musical laugh would’ve been just as valuable.
Glass wrapped her arms around herself and glanced up at the dizzyingly tall trees. Swaying in the wind, they almost seemed to be looking down at her, making her feel like a little kid lost in a sea of oblivious grown-ups.
She watched as Wells stepped out of the hospital cabin, and even from a distance, she could tell his expression was grim. He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his temples. Despite the gravity of the situation, Glass couldn’t help but smile at the familiar gesture—the same one she’d seen the Chancellor perform nearly every evening she’d spent studying at Wells’s flat. A pang of regret washed over her as she thought about the Chancellor, left behind on the dying ship. He’d never get the chance to see everything his son had accomplished on Earth.
Glass had always known Wells was a natural-born leader, and it made her heart swell with pride to see how much everyone seemed to rely on him, though she felt a wistful twinge of sadness. It was a selfish thought, but she missed the days when Wells belonged to her most of all.
“Watch this,” Glass called over her shoulder to Wells, who lagged behind her on the gravity track. She looked around to make sure the fitness monitor wasn’t watching, then ran over to the control panel, grabbed the lever, and pushed it up a few notches. She felt immediately lighter and giggled as she pushed off the floor and hovered in the air for a moment before floating down slowly.
She bent her knees, pushed off with more force, extended her arms out, and rotated them through the air one at a time. “Look! I’m swimming!” She pinched her nose and puffed out her cheeks, before letting out a sputtering laugh. “That’s how Earth kids got to school when it rained.”
Wells bounced toward her with a grin. “How about this one?” he asked breathlessly, raising his left arm out in front of himself, pushing his right foot behind him, then switching his arms and legs in midair. “I’m skiing!”
Glass did her best imitation of an ancient Earthborn. “I’m just skiing over to the grocery store,” she singsonged in a fancy old-lady voice, “where I will pick fresh vegetables from a tree and then drive my vehicle to the beach for a picnic.”
“With my pet bear, Fido, and my six children!” Wells added.
Glass and Wells collapsed onto the track in a fit of laughter so loud it brought the fitness monitor hurrying out of his office. “What do you think you’re doing?” he scolded. “You know you’re not allowed to touch the gravity settings.” He strode to them, his face stern, but it was impossible to take him seriously when every angry step sent him bouncing into the air. As he got closer and realized that Wells was the Chancellor’s son, his anger subsided slightly, replaced by the stiff smile most adults gave Wells when he caught them unaware.
“Young lady. Mr. Jaha.” He turned from side to side, scanning the fitness center for a guard. “I won’t write you up this time, but don’t test me again. The gravity track isn’t a play area, okay?”
They nodded and watched him turn around with as much dignity as he could muster while floating above the ground.
Glass and Wells pressed their lips tightly together, snorting sharp breaths through their noses until he was far enough away. When he was safely out of earshot, they burst out laughing until their sides ached and tears streamed down their young faces.