Pasty's story [The Maze Runner]

26

Pasty was digging into a bowl of cornflakes greedily, a little milk dribbling on her chin. She was perhaps twelve years old, and surrounded by her friends. Newt sat opposite her, and Minho beside her. Teresa was perched on the table, legs crossed with her back to Pasty. She was chatting to Thomas again. She's always talking to him Pasty thought bitterly. Maybe that's why she doesn't have time for me anymore. As though on cue, Teresa poked her way into her head.

Stop dribbling milk. Newt will never fancy you if you do.

Pasty scowled as Teresa laughed, not even having to turn to know the effect she'd had on her.

"What?" Newt wanted to know.

"Nothing Newt," Teresa replied sweetly, and returned to ignoring Pasty, who was no longer so hungry. She wiped her chin, glancing to see if Newt had noticed. He hadn't. As usual, he wasn't looking at her. He had his nose in a book.

"Take no notice," Minho whispered to her. He took her hand under the table and squeezed her hand gently. Pasty managed a smile. Minho always managed to make her feel better, and he always knew when Teresa was taunting her in her mind. "Wanna go for a run?"

Pasty nodded enthusiastically, hopping up from their bench. She made to follow Minho, turning quickly to say goodbye to Newt. He barely even raised his head.

Pasty's shoes scuffed the floor the whole way to the gym. Minho kept trying to coax conversation out of her, but her previous enthusiasm for going for a run had fizzled. She was thinking about Newt and Teresa.

"I hate her," Pasty mumbled as they warmed up. "She's always winding me up. And she's so much smarter, and she thinks she's so special just because of her power. And she's prettier."

"No she's not. I'd fancy you before I'd ever fancy her."

"You have to say that. You're my best friend."

"And why do you think I picked you as my best friend? I want to be permanently surrounded by attractive girls..."

Pasty rolled her eyes, but she felt a little bit better already.

"Besides. Teresa couldn't run half as fast as you if someone was chucking klunk at her head."

"You're disgusting."

Minho bared his teeth. He had a large gap where his tooth had recently fallen out. "You love me really."

Pasty did. Just not in the way Minho wanted. She saw the way he looked at her. The way his smile inched higher up his cheeks when he saw her. He was cute. No, better than cute. All the girls wanted him (except the ones lusting after Thomas, of course.) But he was her friend. And she liked Newt. He was quiet, studious, devastatingly cute. Totally Pasty's style.

"Ready to run?" Minho asked, eyes twinkling.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Their feet were almost touching on their start line. Minho started left foot first, Pasty right foot. Minho caught her eye.

"Go," he whispered. And then he was away. Already miles ahead of Pasty. She was fast, but not as fast as him. And the harder she tried to go faster, the slower she went. It was frustrating. She finished the three lap race almost fifteen seconds after Minho and was red in the face, panting for air.

"Just face it. You'll never beat me," Minho said smugly.

"Just you wait, boy. Some day I'm going to run laps around you."