Night Visions (TMR) (Newtmas)

14

Gally leaned back in his chair, clearly upset, and Thomas almost laughed out loud. It was hard to believe that the guy had creeped him a day earlier —he seemed even pathetic now.

"Glad we got that out of the way." Newt rolled his eyes again. "Reason we're here is because almost every lovin' kid in the Glade has come up to me in the last day or two either boohooing about Thomas or beggin' to take his bloody hand in marriage. We need to decide what we're gonna do with him. Tommy, you're not allowed to say a buggin' thing until we ask you too. Good that?" Newt's eyes seemed to soften when he looked at Thomas and waited for a nod. "Zart the Fart, you start."

"Well, I don't know. He broke one of our most important rules. We can't just let people think that's okay. But..." Thomas looked at Zart. He looked more out of place than a potato in a strawberry field, and as he rubbed his hands together, he made it clear that he felt even more awkward than Thomas himself did. "He's... Changed things. Now we know we can survive out there, and that we can beat the Grievers."

Thomas wanted to shout out loud his thanks to Zart. He instead promised himself to be extra nice to the Keeper.

"Oh, give me a break," Gally spurted. "I bet Minho's the one who actually got rid of the stupid things."

"Gally, shut your hole!" Newt yelled, standing for effect. Thomas felt like cheering again. "I'm the bloody Chair right now, and if I hear one more buggin' word out of turn from you, I'll be arrangin' another Banishing for your sorry but."

"Please," Gally whispered sarcastically. Didn't that technically count as one more buggin' word? Thomas wished it did.

It apparently didn't. Newt ignored him, sat and glanced at Zart. "Is that it? Any official recommendations?" The boy shook his head. "Okay. You're next, Frypan."

The tall boy smiled, caressing his beard. "Shank's got more guts than I've fried up from every pig and cow in the last year." No one laughed at the joke. "How stupid is this —he saves Alby's life, kills a couple of Grievers, and we're sitting here yappin' about what to do with him. As Chuck would say, this is a pile of klunk." Thomas' hand itched to shake Frypan's —he'd just said exactly what Thomas himself thought. "I say, put him on the freaking Council and have him train us on everything he did out there."

The room broke into blabber, and it took Newt half a minute to calm everyone down. "All right," he said as he scribbled on a notepad. "Now everyone keep their bloody mouths shut, I mean it. You know the rules —no idea's unacceptable— and you'll all have your say when we vote on it."

Three more Keepers spoke, two arguing in favour of punishing Thomas and one supporting Frypan's suggestion. Then it was Newt's turn. Thomas' hearbeat stopped short, and he would only later realise that he had held his breath.

"I agree with the lot of ya. He should be punished, but then we need to figure out a way to use him. I'm reservin' my recommendation until I hear everyone out. Next."

Thomas bit his lip, frustrated. On the one hand, he hated the punishment thing, though he couldn't disagree —even if he had achieved a miracle, he had broken a major rule. On the other, he had secretly hoped for some support from Newt. Not a cryptical answer. He felt a hot flush in his stomach, and looked at the boy. What was he thinking?

The rest of the Keepers went down the line. Some praised him, some wanted to see him in the Slammer for at least two weeks. Some did both. Thomas could barely stand listening anymore, anticipating the comments from the last two Keepers. Gally and Minho.

Gally went first. "I think I've made my opinions pretty clear already..." Great, Thomas thought. Then just shut your mouth.

Newt thought the same. "Good that. Go on, Minho."

"No!" Gally yelled, making some Keepers jump in their seats. One of then, Winston, brought a hand to his chest, and frowned at Gally. "I still wanna say something."

"Bloody say it," Newt replied, exasperated. At least he despised Gally almost as much as he did. Thomas wasn't afraid of him anymore, but he still hated him with all his passion.

"Just think about it," Gally said. "This slinthead comes up in the Box, acting all confused and scared. A few days later, he's running around the Maze with Grievers, acting like he owns the place. I think it was all an act. How could he have done what he did after just a few days? I ain't buyin' it."

Newt snorted, gripping his notepad. "What're you tryin' to say, Gally? How 'bout having a bloody point?"

"I think he's a spy from the people who put us here."

The room bursted once again into a million conversations. Thomas shook his head, wondering how did Gally come up with those ideas. But his mind soon traveled somewhere else —Newt wasn't against him, after all. It could've been his imagination, but he could've sworn that the boy had actually angered at Gally when the later had accused Thomas of being a spy.

"We can't trust this shank," Gally continued when everyone calmed down. "Day after he shows up, a psycho girl comes, spoutin' off that things are gonna change..." The boy went on rambling about his theories. Panic invaded Thomas' chest. Did the rest of the Keepers actually think the way Gally did? He wanted to defend himself so much it hurt, but before he could break his silence for the first time, Gally was talking again. Did he ever shut up? "There's too many weird things going on, and it all started when this shuck-face Greenie showed up. And he just happens to be the first one to survive a night out in the Maze."

"Finished, Captain Gally?" Newt asked. He was writing down Gally's suggestion to put Thomas in the Slammer for a month. The loose movements of his hand hinted the little interest he put into it.<

"Quit being such a smart aleck, Newt!" he spat. "I'm dead serious. Quit voting me down before you even think about what I'm saying."

Thomas felt a little —just a little— empathy for Gally. He did have a point about how Newt treated him. It wasn't anything he hadn't earned, though. Thomas had only witnessed one Gathering, and he already felt like Banishing him.

"Fine, Gally," Newt said. "I'm sorry. We heard you, and we'll all consider your bloody recommendation. You done?"

"Yes, I'm done. And I'm right."

Newt didn't waste his time answering at that provocation. He instead pointed at Minho.

"Go ahead, last but not least."

Elated that it was Minho's time, Thomas broke a small smile. The Runner would defend him to the end. Minho stood, taking everyone off guard.

"This guy stayed strong while I turned into a panty-wearin' chicken. I want to say my recommendation and be done with it —no blabbin' on and on like Gally." He looked at Thomas. "I nominate this shank to replace me as Keeper of the Runners."

First chapter of a mini-marathon today -woohoo! I'm not having any exams tomorrow, so I took a free afternoon and wrote this down. This chapter was very close —okay, I even copied the boys' words not to mess up—to the book's chapter 24, but it does have a purpose —you'll see in a matter of two or three chapters, I swear! Dashner, if you're there, forgive me. But the dialogues were just too brilliant, I couldn't change them.

(Specially Newt lecturing Gally. God, I love it when Newt lectures Gally.) (Edit: thanks, migraine. I'm having exams tomorrow and it's 1AM. I hate you)