Chapter Text
A phone went off to her right, blaring AC/DC’s Highway to Hell so loudly several heads turned toward it. Clarke turned too, seeing her Aunt Shirley blush and pick up the phone. The ringtone itself was so blatantly inappropriate she saw some of her family cringe, and though most of the rest of her relatives turned away as Shirley began speaking in hushed tones, Clarke couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away from the scene from her safe location on the stairs.
Every action was shaky, unsure, and Clarke wondered morbidly how much her Aunt had cried when she had gotten the call saying her brother had died. Was she devastated, tears pouring and yells at God released? Or had she been like Clarke, incapable of letting anything out, only feeling a gaping hole in her chest in the space reserved for her father.
“There you are,” Octavia said. “I should have known you would hide away on the stairs.”
Clarke eyed the black dress adorning Octavia’s body, the way it seemed to gracefully lay over her features and smiled slightly. It was nice to know that even when the shit hit the fan there were going to be constants, like the way Octavia always looked good with her petite features and consistently straight hair or the fact that, no matter what, she would always be her best friend.
“I stole the sugar cookies,” she announced, moving up the stairs and plopping next to her, “and I hope you realize that when I say stole I mean I literally went and grabbed the whole platter.”
Clarke eyed the plate and realized that Octavia was being entirely serious. She shook her head slightly and reached out to grab one. “Thank God.” Clarke sighed into the cookie. “Where’s Raven?’
“Your cousin, you know the one with the outrageous nose hair that’s like also a bazillion years old?”
“Yea, Carl.”
“Carl cornered her. He heard she’s really good with machines and is trying to get her to help him fix his DVD player.”
Clarke reached for another cookie, contemplating the words. It was weird to her that normal things, real life average things, were still going on even though her Dad was dead. It felt wrong somehow.
“Your cousin Carl is a piece of work.” Raven appeared, yanking up the strap of her dress that couldn’t seem to stay up. She groaned at the dress, clearly frustrated, before looking up and noticing the plate of cookies. “Oh my god, yes,” she exclaimed, bounding up the steps and grabbing two right away.
“How many cookies do you think we can eat in one day before getting sick,” Octavia pondered aloud.
“I think it’s certainly a theory that deserves to be tested,” Raven said.
“We need to leave,” Clarke blurted, the words hitting her all at once. Raven and Octavia both turned toward her, their faces carrying matching expressions of surprise. It wasn’t that the two had treated her any different the last week, but there was a new sense of trepidation with their actions. Like they were waiting to see if she would snap, and they were afraid to be the one to cause it.
“Sure, I can get Bellamy to come pick us up. He gets off of work in like ten minutes and he was going to stop by anyway. I mean, I know he isn’t really your favorite-”
“Octavia, breathe,” Clarke cut her babbling off. “I meant like our road trip.”
“Well, three weeks and then we’re free,” she said.
“No, I, I can’t wait.” The realization hit Clarke all at once—hard and fast. If she stayed inside this town, this house, for one more second she thought she very well might lose her mind. Sitting alone at home while her mother threw herself into her work, looking around herself at the remnants of a life that would never be the same again... none of it was the least bit appealing.
“We couldn’t convince our parents earlier, remember? And now with... everything, they’re barely letting us go at all,” Raven reminded.
“I know, but I can’t sit here anymore. I’ve been in this house alone for a week and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Ok, but none of us have a car, we were going to use…” Raven trailed off.
Her car. They were going to use her car, but now it was nothing more than a clump of meaningless metal in an impound lot. Now it was useless.
Octavia thought it over, wincing slightly when the solution hit her but she eyed them anyway, opening her mouth and spewing out the thought. “Well...I have an idea but you probably won’t like it.”
“Sorry Clarke,” Octavia apologized for the fourth time in six minutes. The three of them walked down Main Street, sweating slightly from the tickling of the sun at the back of their necks. With no car, they had no way to put their plan into action unless they faced the reality of walking, which they had been doing for a good fifteen minutes now.
“Why are you sorry again?” she asked.
“‘Cause you hate my brother,” she said
“I don’t hate your brother.” She sighed exasperatedly. Raven grunted next to her and kicked off her heels, bending down and picking them up. They hung delicately between her fingers as she swung them forward and backward with each step.
“Yea,” Raven supplied, “she thinks he’s really hot.”
“Hey!” Clarke exclaimed.
“It’s true!” Raven defended.
“I said that one time in a truth or dare game and that’s not even fair, everyone thinks he’s hot.”
“Hey! Ew,” Octavia piped up.
“Sorry O, it’s true,” Raven said. “If I wasn’t currently in love with the car I’m fixing up in the back, I might have tried to get on that.”
“Don’t go too crazy. He’s still an asshole like half the time,” Clarke pointed out.
Octavia laughed at that, shaking her head and pointing them to turn down the next street. “The funny thing is, I’ve always seen you two as so alike.”
“Wow, why don’t you tell me how you really feel.”
“You’re not an asshole, Clarke, that’s not what I meant. But you’re both stubborn and opinionated and willing to do anything for the ones you care about. That’s why I’m so sure he’ll help us out.”
“He doesn’t care about me, though, why would he help us?”
“He cares about you!” Octavia exclaimed.
“Yea,” Clarke scoffed, “right.”
“You’ve known each other for, what, six years?” Raven pointed out.
“No, I’ve known Octavia for six years. He’s just...kinda been in the background. Our relationship has never consisted of anything besides banter and insults.”
“Well, either way, we’re here,” Raven noted, the three of them collectively coming to a halt in front of The Ark, the bar Bellamy worked at in his free time and on College breaks.
“Ok,” Clarke said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
Octavia led the way in, probably assuming Bellamy would warm up to them the best if it was her face he saw first. Clarke was grateful for it, because as calm and collected as she looked on the outside, on the inside she was freaking out.
They saw him before he saw them. It was the first time Clarke had seen him since he had been home for Easter break, and though he didn’t look much different, she could see some slight changes. His hair was a little longer, more wild then he had been letting it go the last time, and he looked a lot let stressed than he had been in the past.
Clarke kind of hated how naturally good-looking Bellamy was. Wearing a white shirt, his arms looked impressive as he poured a drink for the guy in front of him and laughed at something he said. It was effortless for him, whereas Clarke couldn’t ever seem to keep her hair calm for the life of her. It just wasn’t fair, she contemplated. There was always something difficult to describe about why he was so appealing to girls, a secret held behind his dark eyes or a mystery carried on his shoulders, but no girl had ever stayed long enough to find out what exactly it was.
Bellamy looked up at the sound of the door crashing behind them and frowned at the sight of them. It set a whole new wave of worry through Clarke’s stomach.
“Octavia, get out,” he ordered, giving her a look that would probably make anyone who wasn’t Octavia run for their life.
“I thought your shift was supposed to be over,” she replied, ignoring his words. Clarke began walking toward him, and all three of them perched themselves up on the bar stools across from him.
“Murphy’s sick,” he said. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be at Clarke’s still?”
Clarke liked the way Bellamy was straightforward about it, she could admit that. He wasn’t crass about her father’s death, but he didn’t pretend it hadn’t happened at all. He didn't make the air feel like it was weighed down like others had, like Finn had when she’d talked to him earlier this morning.
“We brought you sugar cookies,” Raven said, throwing up the ziploc bag they had hastily thrown the remaining cookies into before they left, just in case they needed the sustenance, onto the bar.
Bellamy narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?”
“What are you doing for like, the next three weeks?” Octavia asked, the words coming out so forcefully nonchalant, the strain clear in her voice.
“We need your car,” Clarke finally spoke up. Bellamy snapped his head toward her, a smirk finding a spot on his lips.
“For three weeks? Why would I do that?’
“Because you love me?” Octavia tried.
“No,” he retorted. “What do you even need it for?”
“Road trip,” Clarke declared. “We don’t have a car, which puts a bit of a hinge in our plans.”
Bellamy’s eyes softened a bit at that, knowing full well why they were car-less, but his smirk was only gone for half a second before it was right back in full force.
“And how would I be paid for my services?”
“You get the imponderable joy of joining us on said road trip, you perv,” Clarke answered. He narrowed his eyes at her slightly.
“So you three and me in a car together for three weeks?”
“And Finn,” Raven added, the three of them turning toward her. “What? If we’re going to break the rules, we might as well break all of them.”
“I mean,” Clarke suggested, “you could just give us the car and stay here…”
“Not a chance,” he snapped. “You do realize how horrendous this will probably turn out, right?”
“Ye of little faith,” she replied.
“Please, Bell?” Octavia added for good measure.
Raven didn’t say anything, but she slid the bag of sugar cookies closer to him. His face was hard, but finally his whole body seemed to relent and he didn’t have to say anything for them to know he had given in.
“Yes!” Octavia cheered, and Clarke couldn’t refuse the smile that broke across her face. Soon, she could be out of this stupid town and all the dark memories it seemed to invoke in her. Soon it would be long stretches of highway, wind flitting through open car windows, and, most importantly, freedom.
“But I’m taking the cookies,” he asserted. “Now get out of the bar.”
“If I didn’t hate you so much I would kiss you,” Clarke stated, slipping off of the bar stool and sending a smile in his direction.
“You always speak so pretty, princess,” he joked, waving a little as they moved toward the door. Clarke looked over her shoulder and flipped him off, getting a wink in response that she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at.
The three of them did as they were told, just this once, and got out of the bar. It was hard to argue with someone who had just given them exactly what they wanted, and in less than 24 hours they would be gone. Clarke reveled in the possibility of being out of this town, out of this world, and away from the chains of this town than would no longer be holding them down.