The Rogue Variable

Chapter fourty-one

"He's finally whacked for good," Minho said, almost in a whisper. I absorbed the intensity of his words. That was my brother. My own brother. And all I did, was smile. I began to race for the door, my breaths heavy, until a strong arm pulled me back. "Not yet, we'll bloody get him. We need to buggin decide Thomas, and get to you,"

Solemnly nodding, I retreated to my seat in defeat. "He's finally whacked for good," Minho muttered again, his awe a mix of surprise and fear. "Well, you're not the bloody saint in the room," Newt said, turning to him. "What were you thinking? That was a little overboard, don't ya think?"

Minho squinched up his eyes and pulled his head back, as if he were baffled by Newt's question. "Don't give me that garbage. Every one of you loved seeing that slinthead get his dues, and you know it. It's about time someone stood up to his klunk."

"Careful Minho," I growled. "He's on the Council for a reason," Newt said.
"Dude, he threatened to break my neck and kill Thomas! The guy is mentally whacked, and you better send someone right now to throw him in the Slammer. He's dangerous."

"Maybe he had a good point," Winston said, almost too quietly. I took a step forward, unsure where to be.

"What?" Minho asked. Wins tins mouth lay slightly agape, surprise in his own words. "Well ... he has been through the Changing-Griever stung him in the middle of the day just outside the West Door. That means he has memories, and he said the Greenie looks familiar. Why would he make that up?"

I strides towards Winston, and though he was much taller than me, he backed away slightly. "Listen, slinthead, Gally remembered me too. And he doesn't want to kill me,"

He darted his eyes around. "Because your his sister,"

I rolled my eyes, "so what? You gonna do what he won't?" I inched closer, or faces inches apart. A sneering smile spread across my face, "you gonna kill me?"

He looked at me in astonishment. "What... No! But maybe gally was right," he said, reverting his gaze to the floor. "Winston, did you see what just happened?" Frypan asked, looking incredulous. "Gally's psycho. You can't put too much stock in his rambling nonsense. What, you think Thomas here is a griever in disguise?"

"Can I say something now?"

I had forgotten Thomas was still here. His figure lay slumped in his chair. "I'm sick of you guys talking about me like I'm not here."

Newt glanced up at him and nodded. "Go ahead. This bloody meetin' can't be much more screwed up."

His face was a screwed up mix of anger, frustration and confusion. An anomaly of emotions into one boy. "I don't know why Gally hates me. I don't care. He seems psychotic to me. As for who I really am, you all know just as much as I do. But if I remember correctly, we're here because of what I did out in the Maze, not because some idiot thinks I'm evil."

Someone snickered, and Thomas had stopped. Seemingly getting his point across. "Newt nodded, looking satisfied. "Good that. Let's get this meeting over with and worry about Gally later."

"We can't vote without all the members here," Winston insisted. "Unless they're really sick, like Alby."

"For the love, Winston," Newt replied. "I'd say Gally's a wee bit ill today, too, so we continue without him. Thomas, defend yourself and then we'll take the vote on what we should do with you."

Thomas unclenched his fists, and I leaned forward. Eager to hear the words spill out of his mouth. "I didn't do anything wrong. All I know is I saw two people struggling to get inside these walls and they couldn't make it. To ignore that because of some stupid rule seemed selfish, cowardly, and ... well, stupid. If you want to throw me in jail for trying to save someone's life, then go ahead. Next time I promise I'll point at them and laugh, then go eat some of Frypan's dinner."