The First Glader

8

"No."

He pointed at her. "Yes."

Ada looked up, unimpressed. "You can't rename the only safe place we have."

"I can rename anything," he said. "Names are verbal vibes."

"You're making up rules."

"I make excellent rules."

Ada scoffed. "Fine. What would you call it?"

George squinted at the field, tapping his knee thoughtfully. "Greenworld."

"Absolutely not."

"Grassy jail?"

"...closer."

"Ooooh," George said, eyes lighting. "The Yard."

Ada paused.

Nick, overhearing, said, "I actually kind of like that."

Ada rubbed her temples. "Please don't encourage him."

George beamed. "New official slang. I'm a greenie. You two are... Yardies."

"No," Ada and Nick said in unison.

George has never looked prouder.

Toward evening, the three of them wandered toward the Maze because George insisted he "should at least meet the giant death trap before he judged it."

When the Doors began to groan open, George stopped cold.

The walls shifted with the low roar of stone grinding against stone. Cold, stale air poured out like the Maze was exhaling right into their faces.

George's shoulders tensed. "Okay. Yeah. That's... worse than I imagined."

Ada folded her arms. "Told you."

He glanced at her, then back at the corridor stretching into impossible shadow. "How far did you go?"

Ada swallowed. "Far enough."

George turned to her fully then. He didn't joke, didn't flirt, didn't smirk.

"You went in alone," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"And you survived a night." His voice dropped. "No one should have had to do that."

The wind shifted, brushing hair across Ada's cheek. George reached out without thinking and tucked the strand behind her ear—gentle, careful, slow.

Ada froze.

George blinked, startled by his own boldness. His hand hovered a second too long before he pulled it back, rubbing his fingers together nervously.

"Sorry," he murmured. "That—uh—wasn't a line. I just..." He swallowed. "You looked scared. And you shouldn't have to be."

Ada's throat tightened. She took a half-step back, not to escape him—just to breathe.

Nick cleared his throat loudly. "Okay. Emotional moment over. Let's eat."

Ada turned sharply toward camp. George lingered for a heartbeat, staring into the dark corridor like he could hear the Maze's heart beating.

Then he jogged after them, calling, "Wait—wait—Ada! You walk like you're trying to outrun your feelings!"

"She is," Nick muttered.

Ada didn't respond.

George grinned smugly. "Point."

Ada woke before either boy, but Nick wasn't far behind. He stirred the moment she stepped outside the shelter, blinking hard as though he hadn't slept deeply in weeks.