The W.I.C.K.E.D Girl

13

I was lying on the grass, my head propped on a mossy tree log, eyes closed, when somebody cleared their throat nearby.

Newt. I knew it before I opened my eyes.

His hair was ruffled by the wind, a few unruly strands falling into his eyes, their brown as deep as the darkest tree bark.

"Hey." He smiled, almost patiently, and I grasped the fact that I'd been staring at him. "May I join you?"

I returned the smile. "Sure."

As he sat, Newt said, "About last night . . . "

"Don't worry about it. You did the right thing, I suppose. I'm not mad at you."

Newt nodded, clearly relieved. "Good. I was worried."

"You're always worried," I said, laughing. "You seriously need to chill, dude."

Newt looked at me and then he guffawed. "Maybe you're right. Again, sorry about everything. I guess there's nothing one can do to put you off something once you've set your mind on it."

"What can I say? I'm stubborn."

Newt actually rolled his eyes. "Oh, tell me about it."

I elbowed him playfully. "Don't start with me, Newt. I'll kill another Griever if you annoy me."

"Alright, Miss Griever-Slayer, I won't dare provoke you again."

We were laughing heartily now, and we didn't stop for a whole minute. My abdomen hurt when I managed to calm down.

"So, we're on good terms, shank?" He cocked one of his eyebrows. I stared at him with a deadpan expression, making him frown. "Something wrong?"

I was surprised he was falling for my trick. "If you want to be on good terms, no shank, or shuck-face, or anything like that. Something related to my name is good."

Newt went quiet for a couple of moments, thoughtful. "Em it is, then," he said.

"What?"

"You said something related to your name. I'm calling you Em, and that's that."

I let a slow, wide smirk stretch across my face. "Fine"—I leaned in closer slightly—"Newtie."

I enjoyed every bit of his alarmed mien. "What?" he said, his accent thicker.

I gave a nonchalant shrug. "If you're giving me a nickname, so am I, Newtie." I made sure I spoke the nickname as loudly as I could.

"If any of the boys hear that, I am literally going to end you," he mumbled under his breath. 

I scoffed, amused. "Then, you're gonna call me Emily."

Newt agreed in no time. He stood up. "I want to show you something."

I stood too, then followed him until we were near the Maze's gates. I felt a twinge of déjà vu, but I could see the evidence of the deceased boys from the corner of my eye—Newt wasn't taking me there. Somewhere farther in front of us, I saw that the wall was so mutilated by symbols they were almost indecipherable.

They were names. Everyone's names, I grasped, tilting my head back to see even the names written several metres up.

Newt handed me a blade and a wooden plank to use as a hammer. "Everyone's here. I thought, since you're a proper Glader now, with a job and everything, it's time you were here, too."

It took some time and my right hand was almost numb when I was done, but I had the immense satisfaction of gazing at a slightly shaky Emily carved in the stone, just above eye level. I turned to Newt, offered him a soft smile. "Thank you."

The corner of his lips quirked upwards. "No problem, shank."

I pretended to be scandalized. "The impropriety! The insult!"

Newt rolled his eyes and grabbed my aching hand. The sudden gesture forced me to drop my act on the spot. His was warm, and his fingers were pushing gently into my palm. "This must hurt," he remarked. I felt my face heat up, as warm as his hand. "I remember mine did."

"Yeah," I said, my mouth dry.

Though I could feel the tension in my fingers fade, my whole body was taut like a stretched wire. Newt looked up at me, and I cursed the blush staining my cheeks.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yeah," I repeated, feeling quite stupid.

I'd never taken him in from such a short distance before. Objectively, Newt had to be one of the better-looking Gladers out there. His eyes glanced down, somewhere around my chin. His fingers were still working my sore hand, and an unwilling sigh escaped my throat. Newt smiled a fiendish smile. I had to dig my heels into the ground.

A sudden sound pierced the air, and Newt let go of my hand, startled. It had sounded precisely like a yelp.

I combed the forest not far off, but I couldn't spot anyone.

"We should go," Newt said. "The others are probably wondering where the hell we are."

We managed to sneak into the Homestead unnoticed, just in time for dinner. We tried to join Minho and Chuck's table as inconspicuously as possible. We'd barely sat down and given our greetings when the two boys bust up laughing. Both had turned scarlet by the time they stopped.

I squinted at them, annoyed. "Are you guys alright?"

Minho coughed, trying to school his features, and failing miserably. "Where have you two guys been?"

I shot him a dirty look. "It's not any of your business."

Minho held his hands up, as though surrendering. "Okay, okay, I'm not prying."

Chuck cleared his throat. "Are you alright now, Emily?"

"What do you mean?"

He and Minho exchanged a look that should have made me expect what came next. "Well, does your hand hurt anymore?"

The two cracked into a fit of cackles again, while I covered my eyes, exasperated.

"Seriously, shanks?" Newt lamented.

I didn't have the courage to meet his eyes, claiming instead that I was going to see what Frypan was cooking. I could hear the boys snickering behind me.

It was late in the night when we all got to the hammocks, carefully sneaking around so we wouldn't wake up the boys that were already asleep.

"Good night, guys," Chuck said.

"Night," Newt followed, stifling a yawn.

"Good night, boys."

We split. Chuck and I went to our hammocks. As we climbed in, Chuck said, out of the blue, "You know I'm extremely worried about you being a Runner, right?"

I smiled at his honest concern. "You and Newt both."

"Because we're the ones who care about you the most," he murmured, shifting in his hammock, his snores resounding in my ears after seconds, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The feeling of Newt's fingers tending to my hand resurfaced, and warmth trickled into me. I shook my head as to rid myself of the sensation, but it did not disappear.

Eventually, I fell asleep, unable to dismiss Chuck's words as I yielded to the darkness.