September 5, 1965
In the morning, Bellamy and Clarke are both asleep in the tent. Bellamy has his arm around Clarke's shoulders. Clarke has slept in her bra and underwear, while Bellamy wears his underwear and a white t-shirt. All is quiet, for a while, at least. Then, Bellamy hears the sound of a seaplane approaching outside. He opens his eyes, blinking sleepily, before slowly sitting up. Clarke stirs, waking up when Bellamy sits up. She yawns, blinking sleep out of her eyes. Bellamy leans forward, grabbing the zipper, and unzipping the flaps of the tent to peer outside.
Standing on the shore of the beach is Scout Master Sinclair, Mr. and Mrs. Griffin, Captain Kane, and a few of the Scouts from Troop 55. Mr. Griffin starts towards the tent, and Bellamy quickly zips the tent shut, and Clarke wraps her arms around him. He does the same, seconds before Mr. Griffin grabs hold of the tent and rips it out of the ground, revealing to two sitting in their underwear. Mr. Griffin stares at the sight of his daughter embracing the boy for a long time before tossing the tent aside, and walking away without a word to his daughter. Mrs. Griffin is the next to come up to the tent, pausing only a moment to take in the sight of Clarke and Bellamy. She grabs Clarke's dress off the ground, and then grabs hold of Clarke, struggling to pull her away from Bellamy. She eventually pries her off of Bellamy, dragging her away.
Next to come up is Scout Master Sinclair. He reaches into his back pocket and removes and envelope, offering it to Bellamy. Bellamy takes the envelope, staring at the return address. Herbert Sorenson; a letter from his foster parents.
Dear Bellamy,
It saddens me to write this letter, but Mrs. Sorenson and I have decided we cannot permit you to return to our home. I know you mean well. Do trust me this is for the best.
Godspeed,
Herbert Sorenson
On a speedboat on Black Beacon Sound, Clarke sits next to her mother and across from her father. Her father has been quietly staring at her throughout the entire boat ride, though after a while, finally speaks to her.
"Be advised," he says, "the two of you will never see each other again. Those were your last words." He leans forward to look his daughter in the eyes. "Do you understand?" he says sternly.
"I'd be careful if I were you," Clarke says. "One of these days somebody's gonna get pushed too far. Who knows what they're capable of."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a warning."
Meanwhile, in a small room in the boat, Bellamy sits on a bunk, quietly crying. Scout Master Sinclair enters the room, sitting on the bunk across from him. Bellamy wipes his eyes with his palms, not meeting Scout Master Sinclair's eyes.
"I'm sorry about all this," Scout Master Sinclair apologized. "I didn't know your situation. It wasn't in the register. How'd you lose your parents?"
Bellamy looked up briefly with watery eyes, sniffing, before looking back at the floor of the boat.
"Nevermind, I—I don't need to ask about that." They sat in silence again, before Scout Master Sinclair opened his mouth to speak. "I wish we would've had time to perform an inspection back there. On the beach. I would've given you a 'commendable'. That was one of the best pitch campsites I've ever seen. Honestly."
"Thank you," Bellamy sniffed.
"You don't want to be a Khaki Scout anymore?"
Bellamy shook his head, and the silence returned.
Judy: Hello, Becky?
Becky: Judy, I have your person-to-person from Ark.
Judy: Go ahead, Ark.
Captain Kane: Hello, this is Captain Kane.
Social Services: Hello Captain Kane, this is Social Services. I'm calling in reference to Bellamy Blake, Ward of the State. I understand he's in your custody.
Captain Kane: That's correct.
Social Services: What is his condition? Has he suffered any injuries or trauma of any kind?
Captain Kane: He's fine.
Social Services: Very good. How do I get to you?
Captain Kane: The fastest way would be seaplane. Jed can bring you with the mail.
Social Services: I'll come tomorrow morning if that's acceptable to you. Is someone able to provide reasonable care and nourishment for the boy until that time?
Captain Kane: Uh huh.
Social Services: Is that a yes?
Captain Kane: Uh huh.
Social Services: Very good. I'll contact you again before the end of the day.
Captain Kane: Wait a second.
Social Services: Yes?
Captain Kane: Social Services?
Social Services: Captain Kane?
Captain Kane: What's gonna happen to him?
Social Services: Well, normally we'd try to place him in another foster home, but that option is no longer available to us in my opinion, due to his case history. Which means he'll go to juvenile refuge.
Scout Master Sinclair: What does that mean? Is that an orphanage?
Social Services: Who is speaking?
Scout Master Sinclair: This is Scout Master Sinclair.
Social Services: Right, an orphanage. But the first step is the admissions panel that requires a psychological evaluation to determine whether or not the boy is a candidate whether or not the boy is a candidate for institutional treatment or electroshock therapy.
Captain Kane: Excuse me, shock therapy? Why would that be called for? He's not violent!
Social Services: The report describes an assault with scissors.
Scout Master Sinclair: That was the girl!
Captain Kane: That was the girl that did that!
Social Services: Well, maybe she needs help, too. But that's not our job. Okay?
Captain Kane: Okay.
At Summer's End, Clarke sat silently in the bathtub while her mother poured water over her head. Though Clarke was refusing to speak to her mother, that didn't stop her mother from trying to have a conversation.
"I do know what you're feeling, Clarke. I have moments myself where I say, 'What am I doing here? Who made this decision? How could I allow myself to do something so stupid—and why is it still happening? We women are more emotional—"
"I hate you," Clarke interrupted.
"Don't say hate."
"Why not? I mean it."
"You think you mean it, in this moment. You're trying to hurt me."
"Exactly." Clarke turned to her mother, giving her a cold stare. "I know what you do with that sad, dumb policeman."
Clarke's mother opened her mouth, attempting to find the words to say, but couldn't. She is clearly taken aback; she leans away from the tub, putting on a straight face. "He's not dumb," she defends, and Clarke turns away from her mother. "But I guess he is kind of sad. Anyway, we shouldn't discuss that, it's not appropriate to even acknowledge what I just said." Mrs. Griffin wadded up a wash cloth in her hand, and then looking down to see the 'Coping with the Very Troubled Child' pamphlet sticking out of Clarke's red handbag. Mrs. Griffin sighed, leaning in towards her daughter.
"Poor Clarke," Mrs. Griffin said. "Why is everything so hard for you?" She brushed a lock of hair behind Clarke's ear.
"We're in love," Clarke said. "We just wanna be together." Clarke looked back over at her mother. "What's wrong with that?"
Mrs. Griffin was still looking at Clarke's ears. She stroked her hair out of the way, revealing the homemade earrings Bellamy had crafted for Clarke. "Oh my God," Mrs. Griffin said. "How're we gonna get these fish hooks out?"
Captain Kane and Bellamy are sitting at the kitchen table in his trailer. Bellamy has a nearly-empty glass of milk, while Captain Kane is cooking hot dogs on a skillet on the stove. Bellamy is speaking to him while he does this.
"I admit we knew we'd get in trouble. That part's true. We knew people would be worried, and we still ran away, anyway—but something also happened which we didn't do on purpose. When we first met each other, something happened to us."
"That's very eloquent," Captain Kane commented over his shoulder. "I can't argue against anything you're saying. But then again, I don't have to, because you're twelve years old." Captain Kane grabbed a beer and headed over to the table, dropping a hot dog onto Bellamy's plate. He sat across from Bellamy, sighing. "Let's face it. You're probably a much more intelligent person than I am. In fact, I guarantee it. But even smart kids stick their finger in an electrical socket sometimes."
Bellamy nodded, considering this.
"It takes time to figure things out. It's been proven by history: all mankind makes mistakes. It's our job to try and protect you from making the dangerous ones if we can." Captain Kane rose the beer to drink from it, before stopping and holding it out to Bellamy. "You want a slug?"
Bellamy hesitated, before picking up his glass of milk and dumping the remainder into an ash tray. He held the glass out to Captain Kane, who filled it with a small amount of beer. Bellamy rose his glass to Captain Kane, before bringing it to his lips and taking a drink.
"What's your rush?" Captain Kane asked. "You got your whole life in front of yourself. Ahead of you, I mean."
"Maybe so," Bellamy said. "Anyway, you're a bachelor."
"So are you."
"That's true," Bellamy said. "Did you love someone ever?"
Captain Kane nodded. "Yes I did."
"What happened?"
"She didn't love me back."
"Ah," Bellamy said in understanding, nodding his head.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Captain Kane said, after a pause. "Anyway, that's what you're supposed to say." Captain Kane picked up his beer and filled Bellamy's glass some more.
Scout Master's log. September fifth.
Instead of continuing, Scout Master Sinclair switches off the ticker tape. He brings his cigarette to his lips and takes a long drag.
In the Troop tree house, the Scouts sit around a table, playing cards. They are talking amongst themselves about Bellamy's situation.
"I heard he's going to reform school," Wick says.
"I heard they're gonna take out a piece of his brain and send him to an insane asylum," Miller says.
"I like his girl," Wells says.
"She's too scruffy for me," Jasper comments.
"Supposedly, they got to third base," Atom says.
"That's not true. He just felt her up," Finn says.
"Over-shirt or under-shirt?" Wells asks.
Sterling, on the deck, slams his fists on the railing. "Damn us!" he says, and then turns slowly to face the Troop. "It's none of our business," as he says it, the railing detaches from the tree house and falls to the ground, landing with a thud. Sterling acknowledges it for a brief moment before addressing the Scouts again. "This Troop has been very shabby to fieldmate Bellamy Blake. In fact, we've been a bunch of mean jerks!"
Sterling takes a seat at the end of the table, looking at the members, who are all leaned in to the table to listen to him. "Why is he so unpopular?" he asks. "I admit, supposedly, he's emotionally disturbed, but, he's also a disadvantaged orphan. How would you feel?" Sterling looks each Scout in the face. "Atom? Miller? Finn? Wick?" he pauses, simply for the desired effect. "He's a fellow Khaki Scout, and he needs our help. "Are we man enough to give that? So part of his brain doesn't get removed out of him? They were prepared to die for each other out there."
The Scouts begin murmuring amongst themselves, shrugging and whispering, before Miller looks up at Sterling. "What do you need?"
"For starters?" he asks. "Three yards of chicken wire, some ripped-up newspaper, and a bucket of wheat paste."
At the house on Summer's End, Troop 55 sneaks Clarke out of the house shortly after Mrs. Griffin rides away on her bicycle.
"So, in other words, it's over," Captain Kane says, sitting on the bench next to Mrs. Griffin. He passes his cigarette to her.
"I guess so. For the moment," she replies, taking a drag from the cigarette.
"Until further notice."
"That's right."
Captain Kane sighs. "I understand."
"I have to do better," Mrs. Griffin says. "For everybody."
"Except me."
"Except you."
"Well, I hope you can. I think you will. You're doing the right thing." Captain Kane rises from the bench, gives Mrs. Griffin one last look, and heads back to his police cruiser. He starts the car, and the radio begins blaring. Mrs. Griffin follows him, and crouches so she's eye level with him through the window.
"You knew this was gonna happen, Marcus," she says. "I'll probably see you tomorrow."
Captain Kane puts the car in reverse, and backs away, leaving Mrs. Griffin standing by the lighthouse.
At Captain Kane's trailer, Bellamy has taken Captain Kane's bed while Captain Kane sleeps on the floor in front of the fridge. A match drops down the fireplace at the foot of the bed where Bellamy is sleeping. Bellamy wakes at the sudden noise coming from the top of the fireplace, and rubs his eyes before grabbing a flashlight off the nightstand and getting up to shine the light in the fireplace. Moments after he does so, the end of a rope drops down to the bottom of the fireplace. Bellamy crawls into the fireplace, turning on his back and shining his light up at Sterling, who is holding the rope.
"Get out of my chimney," Bellamy whispered.
"Listen, we're here for friendship," Sterling said. "We're gonna get you off this island."
"No, thanks."
"Yes, thanks. This is an emergency rescue."
"It's worthless to me. There's no point. Not without Clarke."
Sterling pauses a moment, before leaning away from the opening in the chimney, allowing Clarke to peek down the chimney and smile at Bellamy.
"How'd you get here?" Bellamy smiled back.
"They snuck me down the laundry chute and left a paper-maché dummy in my bed," she answered.
"Hmm," he said in approval. "Diversion tactics. Good thinking."
Bellamy crawled out of the chimney, and began getting dressed, sticking his coonskin cap on the top of his head.
The Scouts, along with Bellamy and Clarke, sit in five miniature canoes in a choppy straight, heading towards the open sea. The only thing visible against the dark are the outlines of laterns the Scouts had brought with them. Bellamy and Clarke shared a miniature canoe, their things crowded around them snugly. Sterling sits at the front, rowing them along.
"Where are we going?" Bellamy asked.
"Fort Phoenix. My cousin runs the Supply and Resources outpost for the Hulabaloo. He's a Falcon Scout, Legionnaire. He'll know what to do," Sterling replied.
"Can we trust him?"
"Normally, I'd say no."
This is the island of Arcadia, extending far north from Land's End along the deep water channel that leads to Broken Rock. A low flood-plain separates the beach from the town-ship above. A small, but prosperous community. The barometer reads twenty-eight inches and dropping. Strong winds, as you can see. Already at twenty-two knots.
Clarke, Bellamy, and the Scouts crowd around a fire as Clarke reads aloud from one of her books. This one is called "The Light of Seven Matchsticks". All of the Scouts and Bellamy sit forward on their hands, intrigued.
"'—but I'm not going,' said Barnaby Jack. 'I'm running away tonight for good, and this time, I won't get caught.' Annabelle whispered: 'I'm coming with you.' Her yellow hair, now brown at the roots, caught up in the wind and danced. Barnaby Jack took Annabelle's hand and pressed something into it the size of a jellybean. 'Hide this in your socks, and be ready at midnight.'"
Clarke paused, looking around to make sure everyone is listening. They all look at her expectantly.
"Continue," Bellamy says.
"Keep going," the Scouts urged.
Clarke grinned, turning back to the book to continue. "He lept at the window and landed in the fresh-fallen snow."