This Side of Paradise

Chapter 2

Aspen stepped onto the ground and took in her surroundings, allowing her eyes to adjust to the brighter, clearer light that the sun gave off. Her eyes squinted as she looked toward it—something she only did for a moment before the pain it caused made her look away.

She turned her head, trying to see if she could find Murphy. She thought he was still behind her, even when she moved to the front of the drop ship, but now she couldn't spot him. She was sure he would turn up soon, probably off exploring Earth. Still, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was off.

The girl still couldn't believe she was standing on the ground. She had always wanted to see trees. Her feet moved toward one, hand reaching out to touch it—to feel bark under her fingers for the first time.

Until she heard Clarke.

"Mount Weather, there's a radiation-soaked forest between us and our next meal. They dropped us on the wrong damn mountain."

Crap, Aspen thought. No one on the drop ship had probably ever walked that much, let alone carried as much as they were going to need to.

Aspen walked over to the spacewalker—Finn—and Clarke, soon joined by Wells and a few others.

"We got a problem. The communications system is dead. I went to the roof. A dozen panels are missing. Heat fried the wires," Wells told the small group that was surrounding the map Clarke was holding.

"Why would we want to communicate with them anyway? Sorry but they sent us down to Earth to die, they really can't care that much." Aspen snarled toward the son of the man who killed her parents.

It was worse knowing he did it to his friends.

The darker-skinned man's face twisted with anger and sorrow, probably trying to figure out when his once-friend had turned so fully against the Ark. But if he couldn't put it together now, he probably never would.

That—and he was too wrapped up in his puppy love for Clarke to notice anyone else's feelings.

"You might not want to be able to talk to them, but others probably want to speak with their parents—"

Aspen cut him off. "Not all of us have parents anymore, Wells. Your father made sure of that."

Before he could respond, Clarke butted in.

"Well, all that matters right now is getting to Mount Weather. See? Look. This is us. This is where we need to get to if we want to survive."

Aspen could've sworn she saw Wells' eyes turn into hearts when he said, "Where'd you learn to do that?" The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes. She knew exactly where Clarke learned it—same person who taught her.

"It was her father, ya know, the man you got killed."

She might have felt bad in that moment, looking at the expressions their faces held—but the guilt faded quickly when goggle-head butted in.

"Ah, cool, a map." He turned toward Clarke, smiling, clearly trying to make the best of being on the ground. "They got a bar in this town?"

His attention shifted to Aspen. "I'll buy you a beer."

Aspen grinned up at him, the boy standing almost a foot taller than her. Before she could respond—

"You mind?" Wells cut in, grabbing the boy by the arm and starting to push him backward, away from the map and the two girls.

Aspen stepped forward to grab Wells when a familiar voice shouted, "Hey, hey, hey, hands off of him."

John.