Different | The Maze Runner / Newt ¹ ✓

{2.3}

"What was it?" Thomas pressed curiously.

I didn't want to cause a scene here, not now. "Wait till the Gathering."

Then, as we all went our separate ways (Chuck to his job and Thomas to wandering around aimlessly), Newt put an arm around me and started walking with me. "I just hope whatever you have to say doesn't get anyone killed."

I leaned into his shoulder and sighed comfortably. "That I can't make a promise to."

-/-

The next morning, bright and early, Thomas and I sat in the middle of a semicircle of the Keepers and Newt. The spot directly in front of us was completely empty because I was seated in Alby's chair due to the lack of extras.

We sat in a room of the Homestead that was empty except for us and a small table pushed into the corner. The absence of windows made the room dim and smell of mildew. Thomas suddenly shivered, even though it wasn't cold. I sat with my back straight and chin high, even though I was shaking slightly and my hands were clammy.

Newt sat in the chair to the left of Alby's empty spot. "In place of our leader, sick in bed, I declare this Gathering begun," he said with a roll of his eyes like he hated the formalities. "As you all know, the last few days have been bloody crazy, and quite a bit has seemed centered around our Greenbeans, Tommy and Dylan, seated before us."

Thomas's face flushed. My hand twitched. Were these Gally's words coming out of Newt's mouth, or his? I couldn't be sure, but I knew he wasn't as skeptical of me as he might've been of Thomas.

"They're not the Greenbeans anymore," Gally argued sourly. "They're just rulebreakers now."

Words could not describe how much I wanted to punch him in the face.

Gally's words set off a rumbling of murmurs and whispers, but Newt shushed them. I really wanted to just get the stupid meeting over with.

"Gally," Newt warned, "try to keep some buggin' order here. After all, you were the one who called this bloody Gathering anyway, am I right? If you're going to blabber your shuck mouth every time I say something, you can go ahead and leave, because I'm not in a very cheerful mood."

Praise Newt.

Gally leaned back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. The scowl on his face made him look like a pouting five-year-old. I was sure that if he kept frowning like that, one day his mouth would just be stuck in that way forever.

Newt stared coldly at Gally, then continued on. "Glad we got that out of the way." He rolled his eyes again. "Reason we're here is because almost every lovin' kid in the Glade has come up to me boohooing about Thomas or beggin' to take Dylan's hand in marriage. We need to decide what we're gonna do with them."

Gally leaned forward to speak, but Newt cut him off before he could.

"You'll have your chance, Gally. One at a time. And Thomas, Dylan, you're not allowed to say a buggin' thing until we ask you to. Good that?" He waited for a sign of understanding, which I nodded to. Then he pointed to my good old friend Zart. "Zart the Fart, you start."

Wow, Newt was so great at poetry. Apparently the others thought so too because they snickered as Zart shifted in his seat. He looked over to us.

"Well," he began, his eyes darting around like he was waiting for someone to tell him what to say. "I don't know. They broke one of our most important rules. We can't just let people think that's okay." His dull blue eyes glanced at me and then he looked down at his hands. "But then again...Dylan was great when she was working for me. Sweet girl" — Gally scoffed — "when she doesn't have someone nagging or provoking her. She and Thomas...they changed things. Now we know we can survive out there, and that we can beat the Grievers."