Chapter Text
Clarke was fairly confident that Raven was late on purpose.
She wasn’t sure whether it was to teach her a lesson on being too controlling, or to force her to spend some time with her mother whilst she waited in the kitchen for Raven to arrive.
Whichever one it was, Clarke was not happy.
As soon as she’d realised that Raven was running late by design, she’d acted out, in the most stubborn way she could think of: she took her morning coffee outside onto the front porch, into the blissfully fresh, sunny morning air, ignored her mother’s attempts at small talk, and glared at the main road.
When the sound of screeching tyres followed by Raven’s beaten up red jeep rounded the corner, she abandoned her coffee on the porch and stomped over to the passenger side door.
“About time, Raven,” she admonished as she pulled herself, her pile of notes and paperwork, and her oversized bag into the seat and adjusted her seatbelt.
Raven grinned, pulling her sunglasses up onto the top of her head. “Well, good morning to you, too, sunshine.”
“We agreed you’d get here by 8.30,” Clarke ignored her friend’s sarcasm.
“No,” Raven pointed out patiently as she pulled out into traffic. “You demanded I get here for 8.30. In an effort to be less argumentative, I decided to forgo verbally disagreeing with you.”
Clarke huffed out an irritated sigh and shot Raven another glare. “You could have mentioned it, Raven.”
“I figured you’d enjoy having something to stress about,” she shrugged. “After all, it’s only the first day back at school, you don’t have any deadlines or extracurricular socials to stress about just yet, and I know you, Clarke - if you don’t find something to raise your blood pressure fast enough, you’ll implode.”
“I like to stay busy,” she argued.
Raven shot her a wicked smirk. “I hope you plan on staying busy in more than just social clubs this year, Clarke.”
She wagged her eyebrows in emphasis. Clarke gave her an eye roll and tilted her head to the side in an unamused gesture, but there was mirth behind her eyes.
“You’re a bad influence, Raven Reyes,” she told her as they pulled into the school parking lot.
Students walked across the pavement, across the road, across the bike lane, and generally jaywalked all over the place in an excited buzz that only a summer away could generate.
“Don’t I know it,” Raven beamed back proudly, then promptly slammed on the brakes and banged both fists against the horn in an angry huff. “Get out of the fucking road, Murphy!”
He flipped her off and took his sweet time getting out of the way. “Learn to drive, Reyes!”
“Says the boy without a license!” She yelled back, then caught Clarke grinning at her. “What?” She asked, self-conscious.
“You’re doing well with this ‘being less argumentative’ thing.”
“Oh, bite me, Griffin.”
“Oh, you wish,” Clarke joked, causing Raven to bark out a laugh.
They pulled into a parking space fairly close to the main entrance, with only minor difficulty and a minimal number of close calls with the teeming crowd of students.
An impeccably clean silver Audi pulled into the space beside them, and two seconds later Monty and Jasper bounded out of the car and joined them on the pavement. They had both spent a huge amount of time this summer abroad, with their respective families and then together at some sort of obscure sci-fi convention that Clarke couldn’t remember the name of, so she hadn’t really seen either of them apart from on FaceTime since the end of the last school last year. They both looked exactly the same as they had then, although Jasper was sporting a slight bit of stubble, and Monty had bought new glasses with thicker frames.
“Rey-es!” Jasper cupped his hands to his mouth and pretended to call to her as if he was a football coach.
“Jasper!” Raven pulled him into a gentle headlock and ruffled Monty’s hair with her spare hand. “Monty!”
“Hey Raven, hey Clarke,” Monty waved to them as he attempted to edge out of Raven’s reach and smooth down his hair. “How were your summers?”
“Nothing special,” Raven shrugged.
They turned to head towards the school entrance.
“The usual,” Clarke added. “Summer work with my mum at the hospital, preparations for this year’s competition.”
Jasper groaned, exaggerating the noise. “You’re not already planning sectionals, Clarke. Please tell me you’re not.”
Clarke opened her mouth in exasperation as they reached her and Raven’s lockers. “What?” She demanded defensively. “It’s never too early to be prepared. And this is my last year, Jasper, we have to go further than regionals.”
“You just wanna get that free trip to New York,” Raven grinned as she pulled stuff out of her locker.
“I want to perform at the ICCAs on stage with you, my best friends, and be able to put that on my resume. What’s so bad about that?”
Monty shrugged in a ‘can’t-argue-with-that’ kind of way.
“There she goes already,” Raven sighed. “Clarke Griffin, Ms. Reasonable herself.”
“You know,” a voice sidled up to them as they began to head off down the hallway. “You’re gonna need some new voices to get all the way to New York, right?”
Clarke pursed her lips and clutched the pages of sheet music and notes in her hands. “I know, Murphy. You just focus on turning up to rehearsals this year, and leave vocal arrangements to me.”
“Just to reiterate,” Raven spoke up, pulling Clarke to a stop and putting both her hands on either of Clarke’s shoulders. “I know i’m just the lowly President here, but please ask me for help when you need it Clarke. I know you’re taking a crazy number of AP classes this year, so let me help when I can, yeah?”
Clarke nodded in seriousness, then pointed out. “You know, you’re taking more AP classes than I am, right?”
Raven smirked as she turned to head into the classroom on their left. “I know, but I’m a bona fide genius, so it’s really like i’m taking no classes at all.”
They all laughed as she disappeared and continued on to their Chemistry classroom.
“She’s right though, Clarke,” Monty spoke up kindly. “She is the President, if you need help, that’s what she’s there for.”
“Raven’s the President,” Clarke agreed. “But I’m the Musical Director, and everybody knows that that’s the real powerhouse behind acapella. Besides, Raven just took the job to put something different on her resume.”
“And because she’s a really bangin’ singer,” Murphy pointed out.
“And that,” Clark agreed.
“So where are you going to find a bass, a soprano and an alto worthy of Acapadia?”
She grinned. “Open auditions, obviously.”
They all groaned.
The bane of Clarke’s life was not AP Chemistry; it was not Mr Kane, who insisted on treating her like a daughter in class despite the fact that he’d only been dating her mother for four months; it wasn’t even the fact that their usual lunch table had been taken over by freshmen so they’d moved two tables down to the middle of the cafeteria.
No, the bane of Clarke’s life were The Ground Sound, the rival acapella group at their school.
They were of a more modern sound, having been put together by techno wizard and all-round audio genius, senior Lincoln Woods.
Both groups auditioned students together, usually on a Wednesday afternoon, and bartered their favourite picks before offering spaces to hopefuls. Usually, they disagreed and sometimes it got ugly. Mostly, it was because the Acapadia’s needed somebody that The Ground Sound simply wanted. The year before last, they’d been desperate for a mezzo-soprano, and one had materialised, new to the school, at the perfect moment. The Ground Sound had insisted that Lexa join their group instead, and an all-out war had commenced to win her over. She’d promised Clarke and the Acapadia’s to join them, but flaked on auditions, and come the day of sectionals, she’d turned up with The Ground Sound, fully rehearsed with their songs and in their co-ordinated outfits.
It had been messy, not least because her and Clarke had been dating tentatively, and since then both groups had barely been on speaking terms with each other.
Clarke secretly liked Lincoln, although she would never admit it to the others. He was down-to-earth, interested in art like her, and visually so intimidating that people would leave her alone if she sat near him in the library. Despite that, he was genuine and kind, and generally took a backseat in negotiations for new members. It was never personal, just business, and he always nodded to her in the hallway.
On Wednesday afternoon, she was setting up their desk in front of stage left in the school auditorium when Lincoln entered, laptop bag slung over his shoulder and two girls from his group at his side. They were usually an intimidating sight, especially on stage, but today they were laughing and teasing each other as they approached their desk stage right.
Lincoln nodded to her politely and then began setting up his things. Clarke continued to organise her papers and boss Jasper and Monty around until everything was perfect.
By the time all the current members from each group had arrived (including even Murphy, to Clarke’s surprise), there were six members of Acapadia and six members of The Ground Sound, making them evenly sized this year.
Clarke leaned over to speak to Lincoln before they called in the first audition. “You should know I know that you’re looking for an alto and a soprano.”
Lincoln eyed her suspiciously, then nodded once slowly. “That’s right.”
“So then, in the spirit of fair competition,” Clarke divulged. “You should know that we need a soprano, an alto and a bass.”
It took him by surprise, if the rapid blinking of his eyes was any indication. But then Lincoln nodded once again, and leaned back in his seat. “Thank you,” was all he said, but Clarke knew that he meant it.
“First auditionee, come to centre stage,” Echo, a senior sitting beside Lincoln, called out and the auditions began.
They were mostly promising. A few students really struggled their way through their chosen audition pieces, but most didn't need to be turned away.
The first three girls to audition were sopranos, and they were all perfect for what Clarke was looking for. Next came an audacious, confident freshman who could sing There Are Worst Things I Could Do for the rest of Clarke’s life and she wouldn’t be bored of hearing it. She put a star down by the girls name and slid the piece of paper over the Raven, raising an eyebrow.
Two juniors came next, auditioning at vaguely the same quality, but they were tenors and Clarke knew she didn’t need any more of that sound in their mix.
Lastly, a senior stepped up to centre stage, and peaked Clarke’s interest immediately. She must have sat up straighter in her chair, because Raven kicked her underneath the table and waggled her eyebrows at her.
“Stop,” Clarke whispered in admonishment, but Raven continued to smirk at her and eyed up the boy on stage.
“Name and grade?” Monty was asking.
“Erm, Bellamy Blake, senior,” He replied in a deep voice that sent a shiver down Clarke’s spine. “Sorry if I suck at this, I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Just sing your best and we’ll do the rest,” Monty reassured him smoothly. Jasper snickered at the rhyming.
“Right, yeah,” Bellamy seemed to be agreeing with himself, then coughed awkwardly and raised the microphone to begin singing.
He was good. He was attractive. And he was a bass.
Clarke knew these factors might mean trouble, in more ways than one. She glanced across at Lincoln and Echo, who was traditionally the more confrontational of the two, and was pleased to see that, while they were interested in his voice, they were arguing seemingly about the necessity of him for their group.
When he was done singing Music of the Night from the Phantom of the Opera - coincidentally one of Clarke’s favourite musicals - he stepped off stage with another awkward shuffle and wave. It was odd really, because he seemed calm and cool otherwise, almost like a senior the younger girls would follow in the halls and fantasise about dating, and yet, he was clearly a complete dork in front of groups of people.
She sort of loved that about him. Damn it.
He had been the last to audition, so they broke into table discussions on who they wanted to offer places to, ready to fight for them against The Ground Sound afterwards.
“That first girl is a must,” Raven was saying.
“Her or the second one,” Murphy interjected. “She was good, and much hotter.”
Raven smacked him with a rather large library book. “Mind out of the gutter, Murphy. Do you not have any human decency at all?”
“I’m just saying,” he protested nonchalantly. “If we’ve gotta make a decision off something, why not that.”
Raven rolled her eyes and turned back to the list, pointing at the starred name. “We need Octavia. I honestly think I cried while she was performing.”
Clarke nodded, as did the others. “Agreed.”
“So that’s our soprano and alto sorted, what about the bass?”
“There’s only one option there,” Jasper pointed out.
“Please don’t tell me that Clarke’s gonna become all picky again like last year and reject our only option?” Murphy glared at her preemptively.
“No, actually,” Clarke huffed, a little self conscious about her next words. “He’s… perfect, actually.”
She tried to ignore Raven’s eyebrows as they wagged again. “Atta girl,” Raven smirked and elbowed her in the side.
“For the group, Raven,” Clarke hoped she wasn’t blushing as she stacked and restacked her piles of sheet music.
“Sure… sure,” Raven, to her credit, tried to hold in her laughter.
As it turned out, the Ground Sound had been arguing over Bellamy Blake because Echo wanted to claim him simply so that they couldn’t. Lincoln, tired of the drama and petty fights, had told her to shut up and stop talking. And so they’d agreed that Acapadia could offer Bellamy Blake a spot in their group.
The others were less straightforward - they’d liked the second girl, Emori, more than the first, so she was to be their pledge whilst Acapadia offered their soprano spot to a girl by the name of Harper.
Octavia Blake was the breaking point.
They’d been going round in circles for over twenty minutes before Miller decided to finally speak up. He was usually incredibly quiet in group discussions, always just did as he was told and went along like he wasn’t bothered by the outcome, but he was the one to interject to Clarke in a whisper, “I know she's good, Clarke, but we can get through this year without another alto.”
“Yeah,” Monty was quick to agree, leaning across the table to join in hushed tones. “We’ve got Raven, and we’ll manage with a mix of everybody’s voices.”
“It’s not worth all this arguing, to be honest,” Raven begrudgingly agreed.
Clarke sighed in frustration. She’d really wanted Octavia Blake.
“Fine,” she huffed out. “You can pledge her,” she told Lincoln and the others on his table. Luna and her brother slapped their hands hard against the table in victory as Echo smirked in triumph.
With the negotiations out of the way, they all began packing up their things. Traditionally they’d post a list up outside the auditorium, but since that practice was antiquated and the kids at school who didn’t live for acapella thought it was lame and used to tear them down, they now forwent that for a much simpler ‘leave-your-number-and-we’ll-text-you’ system.
Jasper bumped Clarke’s shoulder with his own as they walked up the central aisle and towards the exit. “Milkshakes at the Drop Ship? We can text Harper and Bellamy when we get there.”
“Sure,” Clarke agreed forlornly.
“Hey,” Raven slung an arm around her as they wandered through the door. “Octavia was good, but we haven’t lost anything by losing her to the Grounders. We’re still awesome, with the best musical director around, and we’re still gonna kick their ass at sectionals. And besides, she might not even want to join them, don’t lose hope yet.”
That did make Clarke feel a little better.
Harper had replied to their text within ten minutes, all excited capital letters and exclamation marks, and they’d all felt much better about losing Octavia to the Grounders. It had lifted Clarke’s spirits until she’d gotten home that night and realised that Bellamy Blake hadn’t yet replied.
Her mood only soured as Wednesday turned into Friday, and he still hadn’t replied.
She’d wanted to begin rehearsals that Saturday, but without a full sound it would all be rather pointless.
On Friday at lunch time, whilst she debated the subtleties of Founding Father politics with a girl from her homeroom, he walked straight past her, lunch tray in one hand and book in the other.
She didn’t blame him for missing her entirely, he had his nose so much in his book that she was surprised he hadn’t walked into anyone or even knew where he was going.
She nudged Raven.
“Ouch,” she complained with a mouthful of food. “I’m deep in thought about theoretical physics, it better be important Clarke?”
“Over there,” Clarke didn’t whisper, but she lowered her voice a little. “Blake.”
“Octavia?” Raven looked hopeful.
“No,” Clarke ground out. “Bellamy.”
Raven, Monty and Murphy all turned their heads towards him at the same moment.
“Where?”
“What’s he doing?”
“Has he still not replied to your text?”
“No,” Clarke huffed. “And I don’t know why. He could at least say something to me, we have three classes together.”
“It’s easy really, he’s still making a decision. He’s not sure whether he wants to continue with acapella now that his sister’s been offered a place with the Grounders,” Miller suddenly spoke up. He was focusing on his food, barely even making eye contact with the rest of them, but his words drew all their eyes on him.
“What?”
“What?!”
“I’m sorry, where exactly did you get this hidden intel?” Raven asked, exasperated.
Miller glanced up at them and shrugged. “He went to tryouts for ice hockey, he’s a reserve for Garrison, we chatted at lunch yesterday.”
Clarke was speechless.
“So he… auditioned because his sister did?” Murphy asked sceptically.
Miller shrugged. “I guess so. He became her legal guardian at the beginning of the year, so I guess they’re close. Probably wants to look out for her.”
“Well, that’s just…”
“Honourable?”
“Overprotective?”
“Plain weird?”
Clarke pursed her lips together and set her shoulders, making her mind up.
“I don’t care what his reasons are,” she pushed herself up from the table. “We need him.”
Raven and the others could only look on with intrigue and hope as she picked up her lunch tray and set off determinedly in the direction of Bellamy Blake.
He was reading the same book, head bent down towards the table, one hand holding open the spin like he’d juggled lunch and reading a million times before, and the other picking at his food with a fork. He hadn’t been wearing the glasses on stage so she figured they were for reading, but they suited him well.
She invited herself into the seat on the bench opposite him without invitation, but as the table had previously been deserted apart from him, she knew that he was aware of her.
“Hi,” she opened with.
He flicked his eyes up to her once, held her gaze for a moment, then glanced back down to his book. “Clarke.”
She tilted her head in vague surprise. “You know my name.”
“I make a point of knowing who I give my phone number to,” he informed her reasonably.
She couldn’t argue with that.
She shuffled in her seat and leaned forwards to wrestle his attention away from his book.
“Look, Bellamy,” she began, “I know we don’t know each other, and I know you haven’t made up your mind yet, but I came over here to make you reconsider.”
He put his book down upside down and caught her eye. “Reconsider?”
“Joining Acapadia,” she clarified. His jaw ticked so she rushed on before he could give her a list of reasons why he wouldn’t. “It wouldn’t just be something on the side to get close to your sister, it would be something for you. Octavia’s gone to the Grounders, we wish she hadn’t but that was her decision to make. You, on the other hand… Bellamy, you could really make a difference to our chances this year. We could go to New York! New York.”
He remained quiet but licked his lips and started over her shoulder like he was seriously considering it.
“You’d see Octavia too,” Clarke continued. “The Grounders… look, don’t tell the others I said this but they’re better than us. Sometimes. We might get a chance to go to the ICCAs, but with Octavia, they definitely will. That’s a whole year of sharing the auditorium, travelling to sectionals, staying out of state with them for regionals. I’m not saying you have to follow her around, but you’d have your own friends who just coincidentally mix with hers.”
She knew she sounded a little desperate, but she needed Bellamy Blake.
Or rather, they needed him, she should say.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and glanced up at her. “You really think we could go to New York?” he asked hopefully.
“Really,” she smiled. “With you, anyway.”
“And… without me?” He asked carefully.
Clarke sighed. “To be honest, we just don’t have the range without you. We’ll be dead on our feet by sectionals.”
She saw the exact moment he made his mind up. He closed his book completely, still making sure to carefully bookmark his page, and leaned towards her across the table on his elbows.
“Ok,” He said. “I’m in—,“ her face split into a wide grin, “—but, I’m not doing this for Octavia.”
There was something tentative and embarrassed in his tone, which made her look at him carefully. He was equal parts lone wolf and intelligent, overprotective big brother, and he was clearly anxious to not be labelled a follower.
She made sure her face was serious when she caught his eye, gently placed her hand over his on the table, and said firmly, “I know you’re doing this for you, Bellamy. You don't have to explain yourself.”
He considered her for a moment, then gave a small nod, the corner of his lip twitching into the barest hint of a smile, then pulled his hand back.
“So,” he said excitedly, changing the subject. “When do we start?”