Not All Fun and Games

Chapter 30

Bellamy and I sit in the small tent with an angry Clara, steam practically puffing out of her ears.
Once Chloe had stormed violently out of the dropship, Octavia had taken hold of Clara and had led her, with Bellamy and me right behind them, to Octavia's tent. The three of us had agreed that Bellamy and I should stay with the angry girl while Octavia helped the others calm down.
It hadn't taken much to get Clara to talk. And once she began, there was no stopping. She had recounted practically every event leading up to her arrest, and everything after that.
In an angry, stubborn tone, Clara told us how, on the ark, Alex had become pregnant with Clara's best friend Hunter's child. She had been arrested by the guards on the ark, and she had been forced to name the father of the baby. According to Clara, Alex had immediately confessed that it was Hunter. Since he was over 18, he had been floated: shot off into space, where the pieces of his body are now still floating.

"You wanted revenge. So you tried to kill Alex. And you made it seem like it was the grounders. Then, when you realized you hadn't actually finished the job, and that she was still alive, you tried to suffocate her with that cloth. But to your surprise, Alex was conscious, so she screamed, and you were caught red handed. Quite literally," concludes Bellamy. I want to laugh at his last sentence, but force myself to stay quiet.
Clara's eyes widen as if she's about to object. But then her mouth opens slightly, and she nods. "I see his face every night. Hunter was always there for me, the way you are always there for Octavia." She looks at Bellamy, who's eyes slightly soften in compassion and pity. Clara continues.
"Alex killed Hunter. It's her fault. And you know what? That bitch never even apologized. She acted as if nothing even mattered. Hunter was just a toy to her-just another game. She used him, and then got him killed. And now she's allowed to walk around, care-free, on the planet that Hunter could only ever dream of visiting. How is that fair? How can she just act so innocent when she's got my best friend's blood on her hands?"
Clara sits back, her mouth closed. There is a single tear falling down her cheek, and her eyes are tightly shut.
I feel bad for her. I want to step over to her and comfort her, but I know better.
Bellamy talks now. "Clara, you need to know that every life down on Earth counts. Our number lowers day by day. Down here, we don't do things like on the ark," he pauses, waiting until she opens her bloodshot eyes. "You commit a grave crime. But to your luck, Alex is still alive and on her way back to health." He looks at me, sadness flickering in his eyes. He continues. "On the ark, you would be sentenced to death. But like I said, that's not how we do things down here." He takes a deep breath, forcing out a last sentence: "I think you should be banished."

Clara's eyes widen again, and her lips part. "But-I'll never survive out there!" she cries.
I shrug, feeling slightly less sorry for her. Did she think she could attempt murder and get away with it without a scratch?
"You should have thought about that before you tried to kill a 16-year-old girl," I tell her, my voice hard.
Suddenly her face goes stern, and she stands up. "Okay," she says simply. With that, she walks stiffly out of the tent.
Questions continue to bounce around my head, wanting so desperately to be answered. Where did Clara keep Alex the whole time? Or had Alex been hanging there for the past 3 days? Had Clara really thought Alex was dead when she hung her?

I decide to follow her to the gate. By the time I've exited the tent, Clara has already reached the fence.
"Wait," I call. She turns around to face me, an impatient look on her face, almost as if she has some place to be.
I catch up to her, holding out a knife and two protein packs. "Make sure you don't wander too far," I advise, thinking back to the grounder attack.
She nods, taking the weapon and food from me. "You can pick fruit from trees. You might want to stay clear of bushes, because the berries could be poisonous. Try to hunt with the knife. You know how to build a fire, don't you?"
She nods again, but doesn't speak.
"Okay. Well, good luck," I tell her, waving goodbye.
I see her smile—but just barely—before she turns back around and walks out of the camp, almost 100 pairs of eyes on her back.