The 100 fic: Scrappy
I originally wrote this story in 2016. It was one of my first The 100 fics I wrote, and originally was supposed to be part of a series of five stories about Clarke and Bellamy meeting on the Ark as they grew up. Unfortunately, I only ever finished two of the stories. They've lingered on my hard drive for nearly six years. It's been long enough to know I'll probably never finish the series, so I'm posting this story and its counterpart, Spunky, to get them out in the world.
Eleven-year-old Bellamy Blake is on a desperate mission, but there’s one little girl standing in the way of his success. Or maybe she’s the help he’s really needing.
3130 words | [G]
Bellamy was in a hurry. The trading post would close in ten minutes, and he had to be there. He hurried through the quiet halls, his footsteps clopping loudly against the metal decking. The closer he got to the trading post, the more people in the halls. He had to slow down to weave in and out of them. A few older women gave him disapproving glares, but he ignored them. He was in a hurry-couldn’t they see that?
Finally, he pushed through the door. Many of the tables were already being folded up, traders packing their things. His heart raced. Maybe he was too late. He bit his lip as he wandered between the stands looking at the things people had to trade-bits of cloth, buttons, disassembled electronics, wire sculptures, books, tools. Lots of practical things, but not what Bellamy was looking for.
He was about to give up when he saw one last stand in the corner. A little girl dressed in a threadbare gray dress stood on tip-toes looking at the wares. She had short blond hair pulled into pigtails tied with pink ribbons. She looked to be Octavia’s age-around seven. Bellamy was eleven and knew a little about girls. They were a royal pain. He approached cautiously, eyes darting back and forth between the girl and the table.
He had lucked out. The old woman sitting behind the table smiled at him as he stared at the little trinkets and dolls. Things girls would like.
“Can I help you find anything?”
“Um...” Now that he was here, he was at a loss. There were a lot of things to choose from. He fingered a necklace made from twine and little glass beads wondering where the woman got either thing. There were barrettes with feathers and sequence. Earrings and bracelets and a whole pile of ribbons. None of it really seemed right.
The little girl hadn’t moved. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table as she struggled to see over the top. She was eying a necklace. But she was also in the way. Bellamy rolled his eyes, reaching over her head to pick up a satchel made from satiny material. It was pretty but probably expensive. Clothes were a premium. Everything was repurposed. When fabric became too worn to wear, it was made into patches. Sweaters were pulled apart and reknit. Everything they wore was ragged and had been passed down for generations. He wondered when satin was ever needed on a space station.
“Do you mind?” the girl said, stomping one foot, hands on her hips. Bellamy took a step back, startled at how Octavia-like the girl was. It confirmed his conviction that girls were nothing but trouble.
“Well, if you’d get out of the way, you wouldn’t get bumped.”
“I was here first.”
Bellamy glared at her. “Are you even buying anything?”
The little girl crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air. “I’m browsing.”
The old woman snickered. Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Go browse somewhere else. Some of us are trying to shop.”
She gave him a hard look, lips in a tight line, brows scrunched. It was hilarious. Bellamy bit back a laugh as she stomped away.
“She’s a spitfire, isn’t she,” said the old woman.
Bellamy glanced after the girl. “She’s something, all right.”
With her out of the way, he could see the other half of the table easier. The purse was pretty, but Octavia didn’t need anything like that. It would just remind her that she had nothing to carry and nowhere to go. He put it down then picked up a raggedy doll.
The thing was a disaster-the body and head were patched together from tiny bits of random fabric. One eye was a small white button, the other a larger green one. The nose was stitched on with pink yarn. The mouth was red. Its hair was also made of yarn-little tiny strands braided together. And the dress looked like the top of a sock. Bellamy frowned at it.
“She’s a sorry thing, the poor dear. I’ve had her out every trading day for three months, but no takers.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Bellamy muttered, putting it down. The one next to it was made from a soft material that he recognized as a scrap of a blanket. It was all one color-beige-with neatly stitched arms and legs. And proper eyes, nose, and mouth in colored thread. Its hair was also yarn, but a pretty red color. And longer.
“Made her this morning. I call her Glory. You better snatch her up quick if you want her; she probably won’t be back next week.”
Bellamy put the doll down, turning his attention back to the hair ties. All of Octavia’s things were scrounged. Or stolen. Most of their clothes were provided by the Ark, with each person being allotted a number of clothing items that were exchanged periodically, but Octavia wasn’t a real person. Not to the Ark. So they swiped stuff for her. A pair of socks here, a forgotten sweater there. Sometimes they bought stuff for her and told people it was for a friend’s daughter.
The whole thing was dangerous. They had to space out their finds and buys so no one would get suspicious. And if they were caught stealing... Bellamy didn’t want to think about that.
Octavia would like to get something pretty for once, wouldn’t she? He surveyed the table again. The woman raised her eyebrow but went back to her knitting. His eyes bounced back and forth between the dolls and the barrettes and the bracelets. God, girls were annoying. He’d be happy with some wire and scrap metal-he’d make his own toys.
“Can’t decide?”
Bellamy shrugged. “I don’t know what girls like.”
“That’s a dilemma. Better hurry, though. I’ll be closing in a few minutes.”
Now he felt even more stressed out. He ran his hands through his tangled hair. He shoved his bangs out of his eyes, but they fell back. With a puff of air, they blew to the side. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the little girl circling another table covered in books. Books weren’t really sold, just passed around. The whole Ark was a library with people borrowing and lending them as needed. Octavia loved to read, but she had a million books. Besides, that’s what he got her last year.
As if the girl knew he was watching, her head jerked up, eyes zeroing in on him. She was a piece of work. His finger tapped against his leg as he ran through the available merchandise and Octavia’s potential reaction to each one. The woman peered down at him with a little grin.
“She must be really special if the choice is this hard.”
“I guess,” he muttered. He hated these moments. When he couldn’t talk about her. He hated having such a huge secret hanging over him, but he didn’t get a say.
“You know what usually helps me when I’m trying to decide on something? Getting advice from someone who knows their stuff.”
Bellamy cocked his head. “So what do you think I should get?”
She laughed. “Oh, no, not me. I’m much too old to advise about the nature of young girls. You’ll have to find someone a little closer to your own age.” Her eyes slid to the side.
Bellamy let his eyes fall closed. She was not suggesting what he thought she was suggesting. He took two deep breaths then looked over at the bookstall. The girl was paging through a copy of a Dr. Seuss book. The woman smiled. Bellamy groaned.
He stalked over to the girl. “Hey,” he said, tapping her shoulder. She ignored him. “Hey. I’m talking to you.”
She let out a little huff then carefully placed a slip of paper in the crease between two pages and gently closed the antique book. She settled it on her knee where she sat on a pile of history books. She placed her hands palms down, spreading her fingers wide. She was infuriating.
“Hey!”
Finally, she looked up, a smirk on her little mouth. “Some of us are trying to read.”
Bellamy was pretty sure strangling girls was a floatable offense, but at this moment, he was willing to take the risk. He didn’t have time for this. He sucked up his pride and sighed. “Look, we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry I bumped into you.”
“Apology not accepted.”
“What?”
“You were rude.”
“I just said I was sorry.”
She stood up-a full head shorter than Bellamy. “No, you said you were sorry for bumping into me. You were rude after that. And mean.” She crossed her arms and glared.
She was kind of scary. If he hadn’t had to deal with Octavia the last seven years, he might be more afraid of her. Or less leery. “All right, I’m sorry I was rude, too.”
She squinted up at him then snorted. “No, you’re not.” With that she spun on her heel, her pigtails whacking her in the cheeks, and walked away. He could not believe this girl.
He easily caught up with her, tugging her by the elbow to a stop. “Come on, I need your help.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. I-” With her staring up at him with those big blue eyes, he suddenly felt self-conscious. He jammed his hands into his pockets, letting his fingers fall through the hole in the left one-he’d have to patch it up before he accidentally lost something. It was like the girl could see right through him. See all of his secrets. It was unnerving. She tapped her foot, waiting. “I need help picking out a gift.”
“For a girl.”
“Yeah, for a girl. Duh.”
“Who is she? Your girlfriend?”
“She’s none of your business,” Bellamy snapped. Then took a deep breath. “Will you help me or not?”
She seemed to consider it. “What’s in it for me.”
“The good feeling of having helped a stranger in their time of need?” It’s something his mother always said.
The girl didn’t buy it any more than Bellamy did every time he heard it. “No deal.”
She started to walk away again. Bellamy muttered a few curse words under his breath before catching up with her again. He could see the woman starting to pack up her things. “I don’t have a lot, but I’ll give you whatever is left over after I get the gift.”
She considered this, too, with a look of concentration. Like she was between cutting the blue wire or the red wire as the timer on the bomb ticked down to zero like in the old movies. Finally, she nodded. “Sure, whatever.”
Bellamy rolled his eyes at her as she skipped past him. Skipped for real, arms swinging by her side, pigtails bouncing. He was so glad this girl didn’t live in his station because he’d probably end up floated. He joined her at the table. Some of the stuff was in boxes, but there was a little of each thing still out, waiting for him to choose.
“So, what does your girlfriend like?” the girl asked.
“She’s not my girlfriend, and I don’t know what girls like. That’s why I’m asking you.”
“That’s not much to go on.”
“Just tell me what you’d want to get, and I’ll buy that.”
She rolled her eyes at him then gave the old lady a look. He was pretty sure he heard her whisper, “boys,” in an exasperated tone. She looked over all of the items, her eyes going back to the sparkly barrette over and over. Finally, she sighed.
“If it was me, what I’d like is one of these bracelets with the little dangly things because you can trade them or get new ones. Like a collection. But what I’d really, really like is this barrette. It’s really pretty and practical.” She picked it up, sliding her finger along the pink feathers.
Bellamy frowned down at her. She obviously really wanted that barrette, but she told him honestly what she’d want with the knowledge he might buy it out from under her. This girl flabbergasted him.
She put the barrette down, then moved some things over. “Oh, I didn’t see this before.” She picked up the rag doll, twisting and twirling it.
“That ugly thing?”
“It’s not ugly,” she said so fiercely he took a step back. “She’s unique. There’s no other doll like her.”
“Because it’s ugly. It’s falling apart. And the eyes don’t match. And the hair is all scraggly.”
The girl glared at him. “She’s pretty. She has a lot of... potential. And she’s lonely because everyone thinks she’s ugly so they don’t want her. So she sits every week on the table waiting for someone to buy her, but they pick all of the shiny, sparkly things and talk about how ugly she is. It’s not fair. Everyone should be loved.”
Bellamy’s eyes bugged out. “It’s just a stupid doll.”
When she looked up at him, her lip quivered. This was definitely about more than a doll, and he was so not getting into that. He put his hands up. “Fine, she’s not ugly.”
She went back to cuddling the doll. “Everyone should have a friend,” she mumbled, petting its head.
Bellamy tapped the table, his finger moving like the wings of a hummingbird. Not that he’d ever seen a hummingbird, but he’d watched a documentary once. The girl was keeping her eyes away so he wouldn’t see her cry. Over an ugly doll. No, a lonely doll.
He thought of Octavia, locked away in their quarters-her cell. No friends. No one to talk to but him and their mom. She was all alone. And would always be alone. She’d have to hide forever. Never go to school or make friends or fall in love and get married.
Great, now he was going to cry. He threw his hands up. “Fine, I’ll buy the doll. Maybe she likes ugly as much as you.”
“She’s pretty and-”
“Unique. I know, I heard you.” He dug into his good pocket for what little he had to trade. He’d spent all year collecting bits of things that people needed or wanted like buttons and long pieces of string, good wire, large scraps of fabric. He had a handful of fancy buttons, a spool of string that was exactly five feet long-he measured-and some fine wire that wasn’t good for much of anything but artsy stuff. “Is this enough?” he asked the woman, suddenly terrified he couldn’t afford the doll.
She examined what little he had to trade while the girl fondled the doll. Bellamy’s heart was pounding. Octavia was home by herself. He told her he’d be late, but if his mom came home, and he wasn’t there she would freak out. Her shift would end soon. The old lady moved like molasses-something else Bellamy had never seen or tried.
A woman with brown hair stepped out of a backroom, talking to a couple of people. She looked around as she pulled her hair into a ponytail then spotted the table. “Clarke,” she called, “it’s time to go.”
The girl sighed then handed him the doll. “She’s perfect just the way she is.” Then ran off, taking the woman’s hand.
Bellamy shook his head at her retreating back and promised to never complain about how annoying Octavia was.
“I think this will be enough. It’s a good choice.”
He shrugged. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl-Clarke-and her mom come back in the room. Clarke sat on a chair by the door while the woman talked with some other people. Her feet didn’t quite reach the floor so she swung them back and forth, her head propped on her hands.
“Do you want me to wrap it up?”
“I guess.”
He looked back at Clarke. She swung her leg so hard, her shoe went flying across the room. Bellamy laughed, then quickly covered his mouth and coughed. Clarke leaned forward on the chair, checked to see if anyone was looking then scurried across the floor on hands and feet to get the shoe. Then hopped all the way back while trying to get it on. Bellamy had to bite his lips to keep from laughing. All of a sudden her mom looked up. At that exact second, Clarke slipped her foot into the shoe and slid into the chair, sitting perfectly straight, hands folded on her lap.
“Here you go, sweetheart. I hope the special girl in your life loves it as much as your young friend.”
Bellamy followed her gaze over to Clarke. She was once again swinging her feet. The old lady handed him a threadbare cloth-wrapped doll. He glanced down at the sparkly barrette still sitting on display-center front to attract greedy eyes. His gaze wandered back to Clarke. She was slouched down in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the ceiling. She kept crossing and un-crossing her feet. He looked back at the barrette, his tongue caught between his teeth. A few more seconds of this was all he could take. He cursed himself then picked up the barrette.
“How much more for this? I have a little bit still at home.”
The lady cocked her head at him. “Trading is over for the day.”
He let out a long sigh, shoulders slumping. “Oh.”
He started to put it down when the lady stopped him, “but I think you might have overpaid me for the doll. That’s an awful long length of thread.”
“Five feet. I measured.”
She smiled. “Definitely worth a lot more than I first appraised it for.”
He had a feeling she was making it up, but he wouldn’t call her on it. Maybe he’d come back next week and pay her for the barrette. Or help her out or something. “So, I can get it.”
She nodded. “Do you need me to wrap this one?”
He shook his head. The speaker overhead crackled as a disembodied voice told them that the trading post was officially closed for the day and announced next weeks’ hours. Bellamy snatched up the barrette and darted through the maze of stands and lingering people. He slid to a stop in front of Clarke.
She barely had time to acknowledge him before he tossed the barrette into her lap. “Thanks. I’ll make sure Scrappy always has a friend.” He didn’t wait to see her reaction-he had to get home to Octavia. He couldn’t wait to give her the gift.