monachopsis - maze runner

chapter 2

Chapter 2
This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Bonfire night was one of Florence's least favorite traditions in the Glade. It always reinforced with bracing clarity that she was, in fact, the only girl in her company. She sat on the counter of Frypan's kitchen, legs swinging off the side and a mason jar of water clutched loosely in her hand. She was doing her best to phase out the general noise of the night, choosing instead to stare into the towering flames of the bonfire at the center of the field.

For some bizarre reason, the boys had decided to build a giant, monster-like creature out of sticks for them to torch. She didn't know what it was, where the inspiration had been drawn from, or why they'd chosen to burn the week's worth of work assembling it had taken, but it was there nonetheless. The counter below her suddenly shook, and she looked down to see one of the Gardners curled up on the ground cradling his head.

"Dammit, Gally," she huffed under her breath, finding him in the crowd as she set her drink aside and hopped to the floor. He was at the center of the circle of sand the boys used for wrestling. Florence gently helped the Gardner, Henry, to his feet and checked his head for bumps. "You alright?" He nodded, but the gesture was negated when Florence's fingers brushed the back of his head and he groaned in pain. "That's what I thought. Okay, no more fighting tonight, yeah?" She waited for his reluctant confirmation, then grabbed her water and started weaving her way through the crowd, making for the outskirts where Newt was sitting with their Greenie. She'd had enough of the noise, and it was about time they finished the tour anyway.

She wrinkled her nose as she walked, side-stepping the puddles of what could be a spilled drink and could be something else. Yet another tradition Florence wasn't a fan of was the strange concoction Gally whipped up for every bonfire. The recipe was his pride and joy, and no one knew anything about it except for the fact that the ingredients were questionable and it gave the consumer a healthy buzz - Florence avoided it at all costs, but she couldn't avoid the boys that drank it.

An arm draped around her shoulders, and she caught a whiff of the mystery drink. Without batting an eye, she ducked out of the boy's grasp and gave his chest a solid shove. In his drunken state, he fell right to the floor and dropped the drink he was holding; it was Roger, one of their Sloppers. Florence rolled her eyes, knowing that while she didn't particularly want to take care of him, someone would have to. She scanned the crowd for someone she knew didn't drink - admittedly, very few of the boys - and found Peter at the edge of the fighting ring.

"Peter." She tapped his shoulder and he turned, angling his head to hear her better over the cheering boys. "Keep an eye on Roger, make sure if he drinks anything else it's water," she asked, pointing to the boy still collapsed on the dirty ground, his mop of dark hair flopped over his eyes. Peter nodded with a soft smile and slid past to follow her instructions, neither of them noticing Gally's fighting get a bit more aggressive after their interaction.

"How long have they been looking?" Florence heard the Greenie ask as she drifted closer. He meant the Runners; she sighed. Of course they've been brought up again.

"Three years."

"And they haven't found anything?" Florence hopped over the fallen tree they were sitting against, startling the Greenie, and settled down on the log over Newt's shoulder. The second in command, wholly unfazed by Florence's sudden appearance, leaned his arm on her knee and raised his glass to her face. She recoiled, nearly falling back off the log, and playfully shoved his hand off her leg while he tossed back his head in laughter.

"Get that shit away from me, we have no idea what's in that," she grumbled, struggling to stifle a laugh at his amusement. Florence leaned forward, looking around Newt to address the boy next to him. "Anyway, Greenie, mapping that thing is a lot easier said than done." She nodded to the sealed doors ahead of them, separating the Gladers from the dark labyrinth within. At his confused expression, she lifted a finger to her lips and whispered, "Listen."