" WHITE BLOOD " T. MAZE RUNNER¹

five.

[CHAPTER FIVE]
nose bleeds and more

~

Early the following morning, Eleanor sat alone in the Kitchens. Chewing on an apple, her eyes were glued to the wooden picnic table in front of her, and she traced the cracks in the surface intently. She didn't mind being alone, as she would much rather be by herself rather than having dozens of boys crowding around her, but she couldn't help but long for Minho's- or even Newt's-company. They were the only people who she considered were possibly her friends, and when she wasn't with them, she was alone.

Though Minho hadn't returned from the Maze yet, having been out there all day, and Newt had disappeared into the Homestead with an aching ankle.

It was almost as if her wandering mind had been a trigger, because as Eleanor looked up from her apple, she noticed Newt making his over to her. She studied him closely, watching the way his pace faltered every time he stepped down on his right foot. His face showed evident signs of pain whenever he did so, though he kept on going, unwilling to let a simple ankle injury slow him down. Eleanor then began to wonder what had happened to the boy; by the way he talked so wistfully about the Runners the night before, she couldn't help but wonder if the Maze had something to do with his injury.

Eleanor was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed that Newt had reached her. He was now staring down at her with an expectant look on her face, his arms crossed over his chest. She could only stare up at him blankly, helplessly hoping that he hadn't spoken to her yet.

"Do you need to get your bloody ears cleaned out, Greenbean?" Newt asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I said that something arrived in the Box for ya, labeled with your name and everythin'."

Eleanorblinked up at him, her eyebrows pulled together in confused. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Newt responded with a roll of his eyes, chuckling a bit. "Unless there's someone else here who's name is Eleanor- which there isn't," he added just as Eleanor opened her mouth to say some sarcastic comment.

"Where is it?" Eleanor asked as she stood from the table, biting off the last bit of her apple before she threw it in a wooden trash can.

"In the Box, of course," Newt said, sounding rather exasperated. He gestured for her to follow him without another word, and Eleanor had no choice but to follow him.

His limp was even more noticeable as she followed behind the blonde boy, and it was the only thing she was able to pay attention to as the pair walked across the Glade. It was quite noticeable, with his whole body faltering with every other step he took. She wanted to ask him about it, her curiosity digging away at her, but she forced herself not to. She barely knew the boy, and she knew that it would be quite rude to ask him why he walked so funny; the reason could be quite personal, or perhaps it was something that he was just born with- and he could have been very insecure about it.