Different | The Maze Runner / Newt ¹ ✓

{0.2}

I guessed that one to be the leader of the bunch, judging by how everyone obeyed him. Instantly the whole place was dead silent except for the rustling of the long grass.

There was a dilapidated wooden building in one of the corners that looked close to falling apart. It was made of an accumulation of wood and nails that seemed dangerously unstable. Another corner held gardens that produced many fruits and vegetables. I shuddered, thinking of what that boy had said about "seeing her bend over and pickin' them crops." Across the courtyard was a pen holding farm animals. A forest filled the last corner, the closest trees looking crippled and dying.

As my gaze floated over my "new digs," I noticed one boy's eyes. They stopped me dead in my tracks. His stare was so cold, so full of hatred that it actually scared me, sending a chill and shivers down my spine. He locked eyes with Thomas and shook his head, dropping his gaze. The boy in question had black hair, and a nose the size of a potato. He walked to a bench and sat down, his back to us.

The leader of the group, who looked about seventeen, stepped forward. His clothes were surprisingly casual: a black t-shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, and a digital watch. For some reason, that surprised me. It didn't look like something someone would wear on a farm. But then again, nothing had seemed right since the moment I had woken up.

The dark-skinned boy had short hair, his face clean shaven. There was nothing remotely scary about him except for the permanent scowl that pulled his lips into a frown.

"It's a long story, shanks," the boy sighed. "Piece by piece, you'll learn - I'll be takin' you on the Tour tomorrow. Till then...just don't break anything." He held a hand out. "Name's Alby."

While I extended my hand out and shook his, Thomas blatantly refused. Instead, he turned and stomped to a nearby tree, plopping down against its rough-looking bark. I watched him curiously, wanting to get to know what kind of person he was.

"Then tell me," Thomas called out. "Tell me the long story."

"Thomas, get your butt over here," I ordered, feeling embarrassed and somehow responsible for his actions. I didn't know why, maybe because the boys' intimidating stares were enough, and I absolutely was not in the mood to be judged or made fun of when they didn't even know me. Plus, I was scared and nervous and felt alone without him by my side.

Thomas stayed put, much to my dismay. "Seriously. Where are we?"

I discovered my legs moving me quickly toward him, people's eyes on me. When I sat next to Thomas, I found Alby following after me.

I was intimidated by him, that was for sure. I was intimidated by all of them. But they didn't need to know that, and in my short time being there I knew that showing any sign of weakness would quickly make me a target.

Alby sat cross-legged in front of us and I found my hand creeping toward Thomas's until I caught myself. My arm retracted before he could notice. I cursed my brain, wondering what the hell I had been thinking.

The hoard of boys followed and packed in behind the leader, heads popping up here and there, kids leaning to get a better look. My eyes flickered around the crowd nervously before they settled back on Alby.

"If you ain't scared," he said gently, "you ain't human. Act any different and I'd throw you off the Cliff because it'd mean you're a psycho."

"The Cliff?" The blood drained from Thomas's face. Of course that was all he got from it.

"Shuck it," Alby said, rubbing his eyes in either fatigue or exasperation. "Ain't no way to start these conversations, you get me? We don't kill shanks like you two here, I promise. Just try and avoid being killed, survive, whatever."