Not All Fun and Games

Charter 24

"Let me get this straight. Alex still hasn't been found, Adam was attacked and killed by grounders, Bellamy still can't walk, and she wants to throw a party?!" Says Raven, throwing her hands in the air. "I'll never understand Octavia."
I slap her arm, shushing her. "Lower your voice! God forbid Bellamy hears you talking that way about his sister."
Raven smirks.
"Anyway," I continue, "she's doing this to lighten the tension in the camp." I pause, trying to figure out the contemplating look on her face.
"So... You in then? Are you gonna help us organize the party?"
She looks up at me, smiling blissfully. "Of course I'm in! I love parties! I mean, I've never really been to a real party, but my friends sometimes threw... 'get togethers', I guess. We danced and played games. Sometimes we scored some alcohol, when it was possible. But this will probably be the first birthday party on Earth."
"Why does everyone assume the grounders don't throw parties?" I exclaim, making Raven laugh.
After a pause, my face turns slightly more serious.
"Raven, you know what would be the best birthday gift you could get Bellamy?"
She cocks her head to the side, waiting for an answer. Her smile hasn't left her face.
"The best present you could give him is the ability to walk again."
She nods as she realizes I'm talking about the leg brace.
"Okay boss," she says, lifting her hand to her forehead in a salute. "I'm on it." With that, she turns around and walks back to her tent, a determined pace to her step.

***

I thought planning a surprise party would be harder than this. Almost the whole camp knows about it now. Somehow, no one seems to feel the need to lower their voices when they talk about it.
Of course, it helps that the birthday boy is locked up in a room of metal walls, unable to exit it.
Octavia strolls around camp, telling people what and what not to do. I watch her as she gives orders to a short, brunette girl cooking meat over the fire. When Octavia turns away, the girl scowls in frustration. I laugh and decide to help her out.
"Hey," I say when I reach the brunette. "I'm Clarke. Do you need any help?"
The girl's face softens into a shy smile.
"Uh, sure," she says, looking at me thankfully. "I'm Zoe, by the way."
I smile at her friendlily, absorbed by the freckles dotted across her round face. Freckles were very uncommon on the Ark. The sun must bring them out, I think to myself.
I return my attention to the large rabbit tied to the thick stick in Zoe's hand. The stick rests on two other thin pieces of wood sticking out of the dirt, holding it over the crackling fire.
"Want to know a trick?" I ask her. She nods curiously. "The trick is: there is no trick. There's no strategy on when and how to turn the stick, to cook the meat to perfection. You just have to continue to turn it slowly, until the skin becomes crisp."
"Thanks," she says in appreciation. She focuses on turning the stick at a balanced, steady pace. "This makes things easier."
"No problem. Mind if I go help Octavia? You can call me back if you need more help."
She smiles, nodding. "Yeah, su-" Suddenly, a wave of pain washes over her face, and she doubles over, clutching her stomach.
"Zoe!" I shout, putting my arm around her protectively. "Zoe, what's wrong?"
She stands back up, a mortified expression on her face.
"I'm so sorry," she stammers. "I don't know what happened! I just felt sick all of a sudden, and-"
"Don't apologize," I tell her, cutting her off. "You know what? Go back to your tent and get some rest. I'll take it from here." I grab onto the stick above the fire and she lets go.
"Are you sure, Clarke?" Her eyes look apologetic.
"Of course."
She smiles at me weakly, then turns and walks away.
I continue to roast the meet, turning the stick continually. The smell of the raw meet must have made her sick to the stomach, I tell myself.
But as I watch her walk back to her tent, I get an odd feeling- like something isn't quite right.