When The Darkness Comes // Newt

Part twenty-eight, "Queen of the Glade"

That night, everybody in the Glade is crowded around the huge bonfire. Frypan is complaining about his soup being burnt- which caused you to go hide in the woods for several minutes, not wanting to face the consequences- but Gally found you and dragged you back to the party.

Jules wasn't that talkative, and expressed himself as a dull companion. He seemed to like wrestling, and spent nearly the whole time trying to beat Gally. You wandered around, chatting freely with Minho, Zart, Frypan, and Newt. You were careful to avoid Alby.

When the night was halfway over, you sat on a wooden crate, staring at the flames and drowning out the voices around you. This was your life. And it was awesome. Besides the almost-getting-thrown-to-the-bloodthirsty-monsters part. But you had friends. Friends, food, shelter, jokes. That was all you needed.

"Did you hear what I just said?"

You whip your head around, almost smacking your head into Minho's. "What?"

"That Jules shank over there's actin' like he's the king of the Glade now. Guess he finally beat Gally. I dunno whether to be glad or disgusted. Jules' got some attitude."

"You're one to talk," you mutter, chuckling.

"What was that, punk?" Minho gasps. "No- it doesn't matter. We all know I'm the king and that's final."

"You're more like the queen," you say innocently. While Minho's face turns from shock to horror to pride, you slip away to chat with Gally. The rest of the night is the same, slipping from group to group, laughing, arguing, until your social battery just about drains out. You begin to doze off slightly, but are determined to stay awake and alert so you don't climb up to your treehouse half-asleep and fall to your death. Gally, Newt, and Minho are rambling on and on about the randomest things, but their voices fade away as fatigue overcomes you.

Someone shakes your shoulder and you wake with a start.

"Huh?" You look around and almost smack your head into Gally's. "Holy shuck, sorry."

"Figured you'd wanna be woken up, Fifty Questions."

"Yeah. Thanks." You stagger to your feet and walk over to the base of your treehouse, your head aching like crazy the whole time. Somehow you're able to climb all the way to the top without falling, but before laying down for the night, you lean on the railing and look over the Glade. Only a couple Gladers are still awake, Gally, Newt, and a couple others helping Frypan clean up from dinner. Presently they all head towards the hammocks, all except for one.

Newt stops and stares up at you. He looks slightly startled when he sees you gazing down, but gives you a half-grin and a wave. You wave back, then lay down in your hammock, falling asleep instantly, before your mind concocts visions of Alby being torn apart by Grievers like you've been imagining the past few nights.

"Shuck!" You yell. You look over the edge. "What the klunk do you think you're doing?" A few moments ago, you were woken by the sound of a rock hitting wood. When you stood up, a pebble hit you smack in the forehead. You peer down at Newt.

"Get up, klunkhead!" he yells.

"I am!" you groan, rubbing your forehead. "Next time try waking me without giving me a concussion."

"Hurry up and get down here. I've got some news for ya."

You do as he says, making sure not to jump off the ladder before you're on the last rung. Ever since you embarrassed yourself by falling in front of Gally, you've tried to avoid humiliating situations like that.

"What news?" you ask.