With the advent of regionals, was the invasion of ghastly amounts of glitter, just as Murphy had predicted. The offending substance coated the floor of the lockers rooms, the bathrooms, even the snack bar. Bellamy had no idea how it could possibly have made its way there, but there appeared to be a strong possibility that one could order nachos with purple sparkles. Octavia had taken to the new job with far more gusto than he thought she possessed. She even smiled nicely at the little ice princesses with bows on their butts and daddy's wallet in their hands. He was positive that an alien body snatching was the only explanation, but Bellamy wasn't about to jinx his luck. There hadn't been a call from the high school in the past two weeks and if body snatching was what it took, he supposed he was willing to pay the price.

"Only two more days," Murphy muttered, slumped against the doorway to one of the hockey locker rooms, currently invaded by the novice, junior and senior men.

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at Murphy, noting a distinct sparkle. "Murphy, you definitely have glitter in your hair."

A drowning ostrich would have best reproduced the noise Murphy emitted. "God dammit, Blake. I am so fucking sick of this shit."

A smile tugged at Bellamy's lips, but he did his best keep a straight face. "Just be thankful all the younger kids are done. I think I saw a woman trying to turn her six year old into a porn star on ice."

Murphy moaned in pained agreement. "More than one mother. I get off at eight tonight, thank god. How about you?"

"I'm closing tonight. I guess it gives me a chance to see the juniors and seniors." Bellamy was by no means educated in the world of figure skating, but in the week leading up to regionals and the subsequent madhouse that was the competition, he'd started paying attention. Most of what they did out there was damn hard and he had to admit that maybe figure skaters were a bit tougher than they looked. Not that he would ever admit that in public.

"Looking forward to seeing a particular blonde?"

Bellamy tried as hard as he could not to glare at Murphy. The annoying twit was disturbing perceptive and had spent the past few days mercilessly bringing up Clarke Griffin. Bellamy was well aware how stupid his brain got when he saw her these days and he didn't need Murphy constantly poking at that particular sore spot. He had successfully avoided the Griffin heir for the entire week leading up to regionals. He didn't need to risk gaping like a fish out of water again, thank you very much.

"Fuck off, Murphy."

Murphy just rolled his eyes. "Don't think I don't know exactly what's going through that head of yours. At least she's legal, but I'm pretty sure it's still a bad idea to screw your boss' daughter."

There was a roaring in his ears and then Murphy was against the wall and Bellamy's first was clutching his worn teeshirt. His voice was barely human as he growled, "Don't you ever talk about her like that again."

"Okay, jeez, I get it, Blake." His eyes scanned the room behind them. "The glitter terrors are beginning to stare though."

Bellamy stepped away as if burned, dropping his hold and raking a hand through his hair. "Damn. Sorry, Murphy."

The other man eyed him carefully, keeping a generous distance between them. Finally, Murphy nodded and motioned toward the locker room behind them. "I'll take this one."

The door flapped shut before Bellamy could say anything else. He took a deep breath. He hadn't snapped like that since before his mom passed and he'd been thrust into the unwelcome role caretaker. He'd had his share of stupid in high school, back when he was just angry that they never had quite enough on the table and sometimes his mother's fittings weren't about clothing.

Bellamy remembered the first night he'd learned about her "special" clients and the services rendered. He'd hooked up with good girl Gina Franklin, stolen a car and sent a brick through the window of one of those clients. Not his finest moments, especially since he hadn't planned for Gina to fall for him after a quick grope in the back of a stolen pickup. He'd dated her long enough to ruin her, at least as far as her god-fearing parents were concerned. They'd moved away as soon as they caught their daughter sneaking home after a late night rendezvous with the town's bad boy. Bellamy didn't exactly regret his time with Gina, but his motivations hadn't been pure. He'd wanted someone to hurt like he did, unfortunately that ended up being Gina, not her parents or the scumbags that screwed his mother for money.

Bellamy took another deep breath, relishing the flow of air and lessening the fierce drumbeat of his pounding temples. It was usually better if he just didn't think about Gina.

"Earth to Bell?" Octavia surged into his space, a wide grin on her face.

He took another steadying breath and frowned down at her. "What do you want, O?"

"I have break from serving the devil's spawn. Want to catch a bit of the action? I think the Senior men are up and even though I know nothing about this insane sport, I do know they have the best jumps and I'm all for watching them splat spectacularly on the ice." Her grin grew feral as she finished.

Bellamy blinked down at her. "You want to watch them fall?"

"Duh." She rolled her eyes. "Isn't that the best part? You can't possibly enjoy all the other floofy shit."

Yes, definitely never telling Octavia that he might occasionally enjoy watching figure skating. "Anyone we know skating?"

If possible her smile grew even larger. "Finn Collins. I can't wait to watch that brat fall flat on his face."

"You know Finn?" Bellamy was vaguely aware that Finn existed, in the same way that he was aware Murphy was dating an ex-gang member from his side of town. He paid attention when people talked. But he hadn't heard anything interesting about Finn Collins. The guy was generally likable, always apologized when he got in Bellamy's way and generally didn't seem to be worth the ire that was gleaming in Octavia's eyes.

"Well, not exactly," she admitted, "but Clarke talks about him sometimes. Would you believe he tried to date both Clarke Griffin and Raven Rayes at the same time? Apparently Reyes sent a hockey puck through his jaw."

The admiration in his sister's eyes was disturbing. "I'm pretty sure they worked that out ages ago. It doesn't seem like either Clarke or Raven hold a grudge now," he pointed out. He'd seen the three of them laughing in the lobby plenty of times to know that whatever bad blood had existed was long since water under the bridge.

O shrugged and moved toward the doors to the competition rink. "Doesn't mean I can't hate his guts enough for the both of them now. Join me when you can, big brother."

Bellamy watched her go, the uneasiness he'd felt around her recently growing stronger. He knew it was good that she seemed to be coping, but the destruction flashing in her eyes was more than a passing emotion. She'd lashed out before and just because the school hadn't been calling didn't mean they were out of the woods. He sighed and glanced at the lobby clock. Ten minutes left before his break. He would definitely be joining O in the stands, if only to keep an eye on her.

Clarke tried to contain her laughter as Raven provided a constant commentary on the costumes adorning the senior men. Some of the entrants whizzing around the warm up ice were truly garish with sequins exploding out of areas best left un-garnished. She'd seen a lot of strange things at competitions over the years, but the blonde with a sun yellow sequin tail had her giggling even without Raven's sarcasm.

"Not quite Iliya Kulik bad, but awfully close," Clarke commented.

"Definitely Stephane Lambiel bad," Raven countered.

"At least neither of them actually had any attributes of a zebra or a leopard." Raven glanced at the corner where Finn, in a sedated dark blue collared shirt and black pants, had just landed a triple lutz. "And Finn looks downright normal tonight."

Clarke nodded, "We need someone to keep the building from all the magic fox tail juju."

"Yes, no magic zebra allowed tonight." Raven let her eyes slide toward Clarke before she turned back to the rink, her gaze following Finn through his footwork sequence.

"You can ask." Clarke told her, sighing.

Raven stared at her, sharp eyes digesting Clarke's every breath. She tried not squirm under the scrutiny. Besides, she had nothing to hide from Raven anyway. Finally, the brunette nodded. "Okay. How do you really feel about 6th? I know it wasn't what you wanted going into the long."

Clarke had been expecting the question and honestly she was surprised Raven had lasted the afternoon before asking. She didn't know what to feel about her finish. She'd been hit or miss with the short program all year and while she'd done better artistically since her breakthrough with Ivan, she'd never really found that passion again. It seemed that she had to be seething and ready to decapitate one Bellamy Blake to reach such artistic greatness. That thought was so unacceptable that she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge his role in her breakthrough, let alone consider why those feelings might have triggered the grand passion required by the dying swan.

So Clarke's performance that afternoon had been lackluster as ever in the artistry department. She'd hit all the jumps, even the troublesome triple loop, and had skated clean, but her score reflected just how flat her performance had fallen. There were two girls ahead of her who'd tanked their triple-triple combos. Maybe last year Clarke would have been upset, raging at the unfairness of it, but now she understood. At this level a fall on a jump was okay if your competitor was a skating cardboard box.

Clarke shrugged, "I wish I could have done better for sure, but I'm pretty sure I deserve it. Ivan didn't seem surprised."

Raven rolled her eyes. "Wow, way to be a trooper, Clarke. So Andrea Joyce, our competitor here feels she deserved her low marks, what do you think?"

"I am not getting interviewed by Andrea Joyce, if I was, all I'd have to say is I skated my best and I'll work harder for next time. It's the mandatory line given to all competitors by US Figure Skating." While Clarke might be kidding, she wasn't wrong. Every post competition interview always involved the most painfully politically correct responses, no matter well or poorly the skater had done. "I'd like to think I'd be more like Johnny Wier."

"Like you have the guts to pull a Johnny," the brunette retorted. "I can't imagine Ice Princess Griffin saying anything profane or drug related, and both of those would definitely be required."

Clarke still flinched at Raven's nickname, but she'd come to accept it as part of their friendship. It certainly didn't help that Bellamy Blake had come up with the same title independently. Was she really that much of a prima donna? She sincerely hoped not, but then again a life without school and peers made it rather hard for her to gain any perspective on her life. "I can be improper."

"Yeah, and I'm the Queen of England," Raven shot back.

Clarke sighed and turned her attention to the competitor on the ice. Riker Williams, a solid jumper without a hint of artistry. Just like Clarke. They'd been skating together for years and Clarke had no doubt that Finn would wipe the floor with him, just like the Junior ladies field had done with her.

"You seriously need to stop brooding," Raven groused, her eyes on the ice. "I can feel you thinking and it's not doing you any good. You have the long tomorrow and I'm sure you'll make it to sectionals this year."

"I've made it to sectionals before you know," Clarke protested, flinching as Riker fell on a bracket in his footwork. Thankfully, Riker popped back up, the building melody of Carmen catapulting him into a solid triple axel.

Raven applauded next to her. "I know you've made it, but that was at Novice. Shit's more serious at Junior."

"Hardly, all of us at Junior are either just waiting to test for senior and already are superstars or you're like me and you've given up on being a nationally competitive skater." It sucked, it really did, but Clarke knew she was right. There were the set of girls just barely old enough to attend the Olympics that were ascending the ranks and then there were the older girls, barely able to keep themselves together for another season. She didn't enjoy being one of those well beyond her glory days, but she loved the ice and she wasn't about to let her parents efforts be entirely for naught. They'd rearranged their lives, bought the rink, given her tottering Mrs. Kane all in the effort to give her "the dream."

Riker Williams landed a quad salchow and Clarke brought her palms together, barely feeling the slap of skin. Raven glanced her way, eyes full of more sympathy than Clarke could stand.

"I'm going to take a walk." Raven nodded at her, eyes still painfully understanding.

Clarke took off up the bleachers. The event wasn't crowded, all the young skaters and their parents had gone home, leaving the stand bereft of anyone but the faithful friends of the competitors. Clarke couldn't blame them for leaving, endless jumps and repeated music became awfully dull after a few hours. The men's event was at an absurdly late hour anyway, almost 9 PM. Clarke had skated that late a few times and it hadn't gone well. She knew you were supposed to skate your program well regardless of the hour, but that was a load of crap. She hardly knew anyone who could even manage to skate half as well at such a late hour.

The upper part of the stands was completely empty and she took the opportunity to pace from one end to the other, keeping half an eye on the competitors below. She didn't want to leave and miss Finn, but she couldn't stand another minute with Raven and her cool condemnation. Clarke knew her friend didn't mean anything by her comments, her belief that Clarke was destined to one Nationals appearance at least, but some days Clarke just couldn't stand the pressure. She didn't want to acknowledge that Raven thought she was giving up, not after all Raven had gone through.

An unlucky puck and a well-aimed hit had led to six surgeries and still Raven wasn't as fast on the ice as she used to be. Clarke knew her friend hated it and she couldn't allow Raven to see her give up, no matter how Clarke felt about the matter.

Not that she was sure how she felt at all. She knew the ice gave her a peace she just couldn't find elsewhere. She knew it smelled and felt like home, but the discerning eyes of the judges and the whispered comments of her competitors weren't part of that feeling. She loved to perform, but she didn't love to be judged. Maybe she'd be better off just joining Holiday or Disney on Ice. She could see the world and skate. As if her mother would even let Clarke disappear to another continent just to skate. It was nationals or bust and she knew it.

"You done?"

The deep voice had her stumbling for a moment, dropping to sit on the bleachers to mask her surprise. "What?"

Bellamy Blake stared down at her, his dark eyes full of addictive mystery, daring her to lean closer. "Are you done skating?"

She chewed over his words. He likely had no idea how the competition worked, so perhaps he was asking if she was done competing? "I skated earlier, but I still have long program tomorrow. We have two parts, short program and long program. They add the scores together to determine who wins."

He blinked, blinked again and sank onto the bench next to her. "I swear you people make this way more confusing than it needs to be."

A small smile broke across her lips. "Yeah. Just wait until you hear about the scoring system. It makes you wish you'd paid more attention in math."

"I bet." His wry smile had her heart skipping a beat. She looked down at the ice; Finn still was waiting at the boards. "So how'd it go today?"

She wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up by the ice below. Her lips felt numb as she tried to formulate a response. "I… well… actually not very well."

Clarke could feel the heat of his fathomless stare upon her face. "Not well?"

"I came in 6th. You have to be in 4th or higher to make it to sectionals, so not well." A long pause hung between them. She scrambled to fill the silence. "But I landed all my jumps."

"That's good?" The statement was more of a question and she couldn't help turning to face him, basking in the intensity of his dark eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, turning abruptly to look at the skater below. "Is it not just how many jumps you land?"

The laughter escaped her before she could even consider quelling it. "No, it's a lot more complicated than that. We're judged on how well we do jumps and spins, but also how artistic we are. Even the old, super corrupt system had an artistic score. That's the one you heard people getting perfect 6.0's on."

"Ah," Bellamy murmured. "Clearly complicated. So you didn't get good artistic scores? I find that hard to believe."

Clarke wasn't sure what to say. Her emotions had gone into sudden overdrive and there was an absurd urge to tell him all about her artistic woes, including his role in her improvement. But that was stupid, she hardly knew him and most of the times she saw him, he was ducking into another hallway to avoid her. "I, uh, haven't really been that great at artistry. Ivan tells me I'm just not feeling the music, but I'm pretty sure it's not that simple."

"I think you look good." He bit his lip as soon as the words escaped, angling further away from her.

"Uh," she paused, utterly inarticulate, "thanks?"

Bellamy seemed to gain confidence as he turned toward her, his eyes flashing in away that stole her breath away. "Clarke, you're good. You're artistic. I've seen you skate beautifully. Don't let the stupid judges tell you how to skate." He flushed, his freckled cheeks rosy as he stood and moved toward the lobby doors. He paused at the end of the row, turning back to her. "You can do this."

Without another word, he turned and jogged down the stairs. Clarke's heart was racing and her fingers tingling. She took a steadying breath as the announcer called Finn's name. She'd never been more grateful for a distraction.