Chapter Text
Bellamy paced in front of the door, clutching an envelope that was much bigger than envelopes had any business being in his left hand, occasionally running his right through his hair. He was going to kill his sister. Kill her.
What the fuck was she thinking doing this to me?
A car door slammed outside and he stopped in the middle of running his hand through his hair again. When the front door opened, he spun and pointed the envelope at his sister. It was unfortunate that he was so angry at her. The look on her face was priceless and he wished he could laugh. She stopped in her tracks in the doorway, staring at him.
“Octavia! What the hell were you thinking?”
“Whoa, Bell, your hair looks nuts right now!”
“I’m not… you’re not… fu… god damn it, O. What the hell?!” He let his head drop back so he was staring at the ceiling. “And close the damn door, will ya?”
The door closed and he closed his eyes, exhaling heavily. A hand on his forearm startled him into dropping the envelope, and he couldn’t gather himself fast enough. Octavia scooped it up and ran into the living room. Instead of chasing her, like he usually would, he just let himself drop onto one of the steps leading upstairs and put his head in his hands.
“You got in!” she squealed, poking her head back into the hallway. “Bell, why aren’t you excited? You got in!”
“That’s the fucking problem, O. What did you think would happen?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’d get out of this stupid house and go to college?”
“I can’t do that and you know it.”
Her mouth twisted into a frown. She hesitated for a brief moment before joining him on the stairs, hugging the envelope to her chest. “You’ve been talking about going to college for as long as I can remember,” she said quietly. “You used to read me stories about weird, ancient things that happened a long-ass time ago and you told me that you were going to make discoveries of your own one day. Don’t you remember how I got made fun of in kindergarten, because I tried to marry that kid, Mark? Because you told me all about Mark Antony and Octavia and I wanted to start a political dynasty?”
He bit his lip to hold in a laugh. He was still too mad at her to laugh at the memory of that incredibly angry six-year-old. “I didn’t fill out that application.”
“Yeah…. Mom helped me with the hard stuff.”
“Oh, like the essay.”
She shrugged. “You never deleted the old ones off the computer.”
He elbowed her and she elbowed him back. “Octavia. I can’t go. We can’t afford it. We’re sending you to college in a couple of years.”
“I need you to repeat after me, Bell.” She grabbed his chin and forced him to look her in the eyes. “Student. Loans. Student. Loans. Mom already filled out the FAFSA for you.”
“We will not be in debt like that,” he said, yanking his chin out of her grasp.
“But we can be in debt like that together, big brother! Plus, there's all that money you have saved up.”
“That's for your college. And you need me here.”
“Do not.” She pushed him.
“Mom needs me here.” He pushed her back.
“You’re suffocating us!”
“O—“
“Damn it, Bell, you're acting like you're leaving the country. You'll be less than thirty minutes away. If you don’t do it, I’m going to register you for classes, tie you up, put you in the trunk, and leave you in your dorm room.”
Bellamy rubbed his hands over his forehead and tried to think of another reason, any other reason he could give her that would postpone everything. He took a job in high school to help with his mom’s medical bills. Right out of high school, he took a second one to help his mom save up to send Octavia to school. He had planned to go to college after she was done. It would have been a little late, but it would have been worth it to see her go out into the world more prepared than their mother had been. He thought his mother had been on board with the plan.
But when he looked over at his sister to protest again, she looked… sad. “Bell, please. I need you to go.”
He sighed and put his face in his hands. “Fine. You win. I’ll go to stupid college.”
He immediately regretted giving her an affirmative answer when she was so close to his ear. The loud shriek she emitted had probably popped an ear drum.
Two years later…
“I have the money dad left me. I don’t need your help to pay for college.” Clarke leaned back on the couch. Her mother’s shoulders drooped as she placed a hand to her forehead. They had been arguing for, Clarke checked her watch, going on sixty-three minutes.
“Clarke. Honey,” Abby said with forced patience. “I am just trying to get you to understand that, while you are an amazing artist, people cannot make a living that way.”
“And I am trying to make you understand that it’s not about making a living for me. It’s about –“
“Passion. I get it. Following your dreams.” Abby sounded exhausted.
Clarke pursed her lips and glared at the interruption. She was getting sick of fighting. They’d been fighting for months; since she had applied to colleges in the first place. “Mom, listen. Again. Most freshmen don’t even declare their majors.”
“Pre-med students go into school with intent. They take courses that reflect the fact that they want to be pre-med. They do not take….” Abby glanced at the courses Clarke had circled in the course catalog and sighed. “You can’t just go into school and take two art classes in your first quarter. It’s aimless. It shows a lack of focus. It’s… irresponsible!”
That was it for Clarke. She was done. Pre-med was not where she would end up, but she could at least shut her mother up for the next six months until she got to college and it would be impossible for Abby to constantly hover. She stood up, crossed the room quickly, and yanked the catalog out of her mother’s hand.
Ignoring the protests, she spun around in a circle until she saw a pen on the coffee table. It only took her a few minutes to find the courses she was looking for. She had been through the courses what felt like hundreds of times. She circled one course, ripped the page out while finding a little joy in her mother's gasp, and handed it over.
Circle, rip, hand.
Circle, rip, hand.
“This will be my first quarter. A couple of core classes, and a couple of science classes. Practical, right? Looks all pre-med-ish, right?”
Her mother frowned over the pages, narrowing her eyes. “There are no art classes here. Why four classes?”
Clarke just shrugged. “I can always take one next quarter. And why not? I know what the requirements are for a B.S. in Biology. Chemistry and Biology will get me started in the right direction.”
“If?”
Clarke sighed again. Of course Abby had heard the hesitation in her voice. “If I choose to go in that direction.”
“And you’ll look into volunteering at the clinic?”
“Yes, but with four classes, it might be difficult to fit it into my schedule.”
Clarke held eye contact and Abby crossed her arms. “I’ll talk to Jackson about that. And we’ll revisit the rest at Thanksgiving when it’s time to register for winter classes. Now, let’s discuss the dorm assignments.”
Clarke sighed. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it bought her some more time to figure things out and a last few months at home with only minor hostility. She hoped.