The First Glader

13

"Just... focus on the plants," Ada said, flustered.

Newt smirked. "He likes you."

"Newt," she warned.

"And you like him."

Ada glared.

Newt shrank back. "Sorry."

She sighed, softening. "I just don't know what to do with it yet."

Newt nodded. "That's okay."

He leaned against her shoulder again without thinking. Ada rested her hand on his back for a moment—a small, protective gesture.

Across the clearing, George's jaw clenched.

Nick noticed that too.

He walked over, crouched beside Ada, and murmured, "You alright?"

Ada blinked at him. "Why is everyone asking me that?"

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Because you look like you're trying to carry a mountain without letting anyone see it."

Ada stared at him, caught off guard.

Nick always did that—said something too perceptive and then acted like it was no big deal.

She swallowed. "I'm fine."

Nick scoffed. "You're never fine. You're functional. There's a difference."

Ada's mouth opened to argue but Alby approached, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"What's going on here?" he asked, looking between them.

"Just pruning," Newt said quickly. "Ada's showing me how not to destroy the plants."

Alby nodded approvingly. "Good. Keep at it."

But his eyes drifted to George—who was, once again, staring at Ada.

And something like suspicion flickered over Alby's face.

He didn't say anything.
He didn't have to.

He wasn't stupid.

Instead he snapped a stick in half and tossed one end to George. "Here. Make yourself useful. No point standing around gawking."

George turned beet red. "I wasn't—! I mean—I was just—!"

Ada felt heat flare in her cheeks.

Nick hid a laugh with a cough.

Newt grinned outright.

George stormed off in embarrassment, muttering something about minding his own business. Alby watched him go, then gave Ada a long, assessing look.

"Keep your head clear," he said quietly.

Ada stiffened. "I am."

Alby nodded, but his eyes said he wasn't convinced. He walked away, leaving Ada's chest tight and her thoughts tangled.

The three boys drifted back to their tasks, and Ada tried to lose herself in the rhythm of gardening. But every time she reached for a leaf or stem, she felt the memory of George's voice the night before—

"Please tell me you feel it too."

Her fingers trembled.

She wiped her hands on her pants and straightened. "I'm going to check the Maze doors."

Nick's voice drifted from across the clearing. "Want company?"

"No," Ada said too fast. "Just need air."