"O, come on, I can't be late for work," Bellamy hollered as he pulled the door to his truck open. It wasn't much, but it got him to work and Octavia to school. At least it did when she wasn't suspended. Two weeks after the last suspension, he'd had a phone call that she was out again. Three days this time and not a word about extenuating circumstances. The assistant principal had made it abundantly clear that if Octavia didn't shape up, Arkadia High School would no longer be an option.

So here he was dragging O to the rink with him since there was no way in hell he was letting her second suspension be the vacation her first one had been. She was going to help him out, not sit on the couch mocking Keeping Up with the Kardashians and eating him out of house and home. He'd asked Kane the other day and his boss had assured him that Octavia could help him out as long as he still worked his full shift and none of the tasks were completed at a lower quality.

The call about her second suspension had come in while he was working and it had been just his luck that Princess Griffin had been on the warpath. She'd marched up to him a week ago, his head still spinning from the news about Octavia, and insisted that he give her his full attention. He'd ignored her and found his way home as soon as possible. Bellamy had no idea what type of stick was up her ass and he really had no interest in finding out. He'd taken to giving her a wide berth and had even ducked around corners when he heard her voice. It wasn't that he was scared of dealing with her; he just had absolutely no interest in dealing with the Ice Princess. He'd already figured out everything he needed to know and any more time with her was merely a waste of his time and energy.

"Jeez, keep your lid on, big brother," Octavia muttered, climbing into the passenger seat and sending him a dirty look that had stopped working a decade earlier.

Bellamy chose to ignore her and cranked up the local rock station 101.5 WHUD. He wasn't a huge fan of classic rock, but it was better than listening to his sister wax poetic about her latest fight club outing. Apparently nothing Bellamy could say made a difference in Octavia's attitude. The second fight hadn't even been about their mother. Roma Winters annoyed Octavia and pop, there went Roma's perfect nose. Witnesses all reported that the only thing Roma had done to Octavia was sit on her lunch bench in the courtyard, hardly a crime. Bellamy suspected that a lot of the behavior was due to misdirected grief, but he could understand how the school administration couldn't quite see it that way.

He had no idea what he was going to do if she did get expelled. It wasn't like there was another high school in Arkadia except for the Presbyterian School, which certainly wasn't going to accept a high school expellee. Which left him with no ideas and a headache that never quite seemed to go away.

Only after the third beer of the night did he allow himself to imagine what his mother would think of them now. Her beautiful, talented daughter now on a bee line to Juvee and her son, not being able to hold the family together. They'd talked about the future, what she wanted for Bellamy and Octavia, before the cancer had advanced too far and taken her from him. But those had been theoretical conversations, a world that Bellamy hadn't been ready to picture.

Bellamy glanced over at Octavia. She had her headphones in and was listening to some sort of metal that managed to escape her earbuds and clash with the radio station. A month ago he would have ripped the headphones off and given her hell. Now he was content that she wasn't actively violent.

The rest of the drive to the rink was peaceful enough, giving him enough time to contemplate the joys of working at la casa de Griffin and Jaha. He'd had a few run ins with Wells and although they hadn't spoken much, Wells had been considerate. Bellamy didn't want his sympathy, but he also knew that Wells had lost his mother back in elementary school, so he wasn't exactly doling out pity. Otherwise, Miller was a good enough supervisor and Kane was strict, but kind. He'd had no dealings with the Griffins or the Jahas beyond Clarke and Wells and he privately prayed it would stay that way. The not so subtle line in the sand between Bellamy's side of town and theirs was enough to make any encounter impossibly awkward.

"We're here," he announced loudly, hoping to penetrate Octavia's cacophony. She glanced up at the rink sign and fixed a look of utter disgust on him.

"I have to go in there?" Her nose wrinkled up. "It smells like hockey BO."

"Yes, O, you have to go in there. I can't miss work and I don't trust you on your own right now." He slammed his door and moved around the front to yank hers open. "So get out, bring that textbook and get comfortable."

"This is bullshit," she snapped, but exited the truck with her algebra textbook in hand.

Bellamy surveyed the rink lobby as they entered, scouting a table for Octavia to work at. Most of the tables were filled with PeeWee hockey players and their parents, preparing or leaving practice. Only one table had room for an additional occupant. Bellamy swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, before marching Octavia to stand beside the table.

"Princess, this is my sister, Octavia." Clarke Griffin stared balefully back at him, eyebrows raised in question. "She needs to do some Algebra homework while I work."

Clarke's eyes flickered between them before landing back on his face. Her eyes were a softer blue now, but he still wanted to get as far away from her and her superiority as soon as possible.

"Take a seat. I'm just working on an English essay." She motioned toward the half filled page in front of her. "Mrs. Kane wants it done before my 4:25 session."

Octavia glared daggers at Bellamy, but slid into the seat across from Clarke and halfheartedly flopped open her textbook. "You can go now, big brother."

Clarke spared a look at Octavia, her lips tugging downward, before her eyes shot back to Bellamy. Her teeth worried at her lips, bringing his attention to the shimmery gloss coating them. He snapped his eyes shut and redirected his attention to a spot just beyond her head.

"Can I talk with you?"

He refocused on her face, taking in the uncertain set of her jaw. "I have work."

"It'll just take a minute."

Bellamy glanced back at Octavia, who rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to fucking punch anyone in here…" she trailed off as several screaming kids ran past, hockey sticks raised to attack position. "Although no guarantees if they hit me with those damn things."

"O…"

"Chill, Bell, I'm kidding." Her eyes slid to Clarke, who'd been watching their exchange as if studying a particularly difficult homework problem. "Go have your chat."

Despite his entire being telling him to bail, Bellamy followed Clarke into the back offices, deserted for the time being. She didn't speak the entire trip and Bellamy wasn't about to break the brittle silence. Instead, he waited silently, arms crossed and eyes focused on the ceiling, noting the dilapidated tiles and yellow stains with sudden interest.

"Bellamy." His name on her lips compelled him to look down at her. A decision he instantly regretted as her deep blue eyes captured him. He waited for her to speak again, not trusting his voice.

She cleared her throat and mercifully looked away. "I'm sorry, I'm bad that this. I don't talk with too many people…" She paused, running a hand over her mussed ponytail. "And now I'm… okay, anyway, I just wanted to say sorry."

"For?" he murmured, completely lost. She was clearly nervous as hell, but he had no idea what she was talking about.

"That day," she paused and then clarified, "the first day we met. I wasn't in a good place and you interrupted me at a really bad time in my program. So anyway, I'm really sorry."

Bellamy had no idea what to say. He hadn't been expecting this from the Ice Princess and despite the obvious honesty behind her words he had no desire to interact with her more than necessary. Her eyes did funny things to his heart rate and he knew better than to go down that road. She was the princess and he was the janitor and nothing, not even her clear humanity, could surmount that.

"Thanks," he muttered, already moving toward the exit. "See you around."

"Bellamy!"

Her voice echoed down the hallway, but he had no intention of turning around. Bellamy's life was already complicated enough; he had absolutely no room for Clarke Griffin. He headed for the cleaning closet, trying to forget the look on Clarke's face as he fled the room. He pulled open the door and shut it quickly behind him, collapsing against the wall, his ragged breathing the only sound in the room.

"Get it together," he hissed at himself. "O needs you"

"That your sister?"

Bellamy swung around to find Kane leaning against the snack counter, eying Octavia at her regular seat next to Clarke. While he'd generally ignored the blonde for the past week, his sister had taken a liking to sharing her table. Octavia had justified it by insisting that Clarke could help her with all of her math homework, but Bellamy suspected more devious motivations.

"Yeah," he sighed, turning to face Kane. "She's in a bit of tough spot right now, but it turns out taking her here has at least kept her in school."

Kane's eyes rested heavily on him. "Not dealing with your mother's death very well." It wasn't a question. Bellamy dropped his gaze, but nodded. He might not be very close with Kane, but he trusted the older man to keep his confidence. "We're here for you if need anything, Bellamy."

Bellamy swallowed thickly, nodding. "Thanks."

Kane turned his attention back to Octavia. "We have an opening at the snack shop for regionals and some of the bigger hockey tournament days at the rink. Octavia would be perfect for the job."

"I…" Bellamy opened and then shut his mouth. The offer was far too generous, but he didn't want to immediately shoot Kane down.

"Just think about it." Kane clasped his shoulder and then retreated toward the front desk, turning his attention to the line of customers Miller was helping.

Bellamy took a last lingering look at Octavia before turning back to mop the second half of the lobby. The rec skate earlier in the day had included two school groups and the mess they'd left in their wake was going to be pain in his ass.

It took nearly half an hour to get all the skittles unstuck from the rubber mats and by that time Bellamy was ready to just ban all children from the rink. He snorted to himself. Yes, he could just picture it now. "Sorry kids, ice skating is now 18 and over."

"I'm glad you find humor in this," a biting voice cut through his amusement. "I just want to kill the little bastards and go home."

Of course. He'd forgotten he shared this particular shift with Murphy. While Bellamy occasionally drifted into the darkly sarcastic, Murphy had built a log cabin there. "Lovely to see you too."

"Oh, get over it, Blake, you're as pissed off as I am that these cretins were allowed to coat the damn floor in colored sugar." Murphy motioned toward the freestyle skaters lacing up for the next session. "We should absolutely refuse next time and let the damn privileged do the work for once."

"In case you've forgotten, Murphy, this is our job." Bellamy inwardly rolled his eyes and stashed his mop back in the bucket. "We did actually sign up for this."

"Forgive me for wanting to keep my dignity," Murphy muttered back. "Maybe some day we'll be promoted to zam drivers…"

Bellamy's abruptly turned to face Murphy. "Wait, is that even possible?"

Murphy shrugged. "I figure since the last few they hired started out as janitors that's just the way it goes. Shoveling snow sure beats the pants off shoveling trash."

Bellamy hummed in agreement, eyeing the Zamboni room with new interest. He'd never had an interest in the smoothing and restoring machine as a kid, but now he realized Murphy was right. Shoveling snow and laying new ice was a million times better that scrubbing sugary goo off the floor. He'd have to ask Miller later.

Murphy had continued speaking and Bellamy tuned back in just in time to catch his latest question, "… how about you? Working regionals? The sheer amount of glitter that coats this place is horrifying."

"Regionals?" He frowned, his tongue darting out to coat his lips. He knew he'd heard the phrase before, but honestly he hadn't paid much attention to what was happening at the rink. His hands had been more than tied with Octavia and her current proclivity towards excess violence. There hadn't been an incident in the last week, but Bellamy knew better than to think he could relax.

"Yeah, North Atlantic Regionals? The rink is hosting them." Murphy sighed when Bellamy's face remained blank. "It's like this, Blake. The little ice glitter queens need to win at regionals to go to sectionals and then they need to win there to go to Nationals, which is the big deal. There are like a million levels that they compete at, so this place becomes a complete glittery madhouse."

Kane's offer made more sense now. They would definitely need additional support at the snack bar if Murphy were even partially correct. "Any skaters from here competing?"

Murphy looked at him in disbelief again. "You really don't notice much, do you? There are a few skaters at the lower levels competing. The ones whose music is played continually this week gives you a hint. And of course, there's Finn Collins and the Ice Princess herself, Clarke Griffin."

"Griffin's competing?" The words escaped before Bellamy could stop them. He tried to play it off, running a hand through his hair and staring with disinterest at the newly cleaned rubber tiles.

Murphy snorted and gave him a knowing look that made Bellamy's gut twist unpleasantly. "Griffin is the star of the show. She's been working her ass off this year to make it to nationals. She's only junior level, but that's still super competitive." Murphy's gaze slid to Clarke and Octavia's table. "Might be her last year since next year she's supposed to go to college. Maybe if she does well her parents will support her moving up to Senior. They've made this whole building work for her…"

Bellamy couldn't tear his eyes from Clarke's blonde head as she leaned toward his sister, pointing to some formula in the Algebra textbook laid out between them. He'd thought… he actually wasn't sure what he'd thought. He'd known she was serious about her skating, but he hadn't known that she was that good. Bellamy had made a point to never watch her while she skated, always looking away when her blond ponytail streaked across his vision. Apparently, he'd been missing out.

"So she's good?"

For once Murphy wasn't sarcastic. "Yeah. She's the real deal. She doesn't always have the best presentation scores, but she's got the jumps and spins."

"Huh," Bellamy tried to hide his piqued interest, but he was sure Murphy saw right through him. Thankfully, Murphy was quickly distracted by another pile of calcified skittles under the benches and Bellamy was left in peace to contemplate the mysteries of Clarke Griffin.