Chapter Seventeen

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We opened up a secret closet in the weapons room, to find the trunks filled with Maps.

"Okay. The Runners have always compared these day to day, looking to see if there was a pattern that would somehow figure out a way to the exit. You even said that you really didn't know what you were looking for, but you kept studying them. Right?" Thomas said, pulling out the maps for section two.

Folding his arms across his chest, Minho nodded.

"Well, what if all the wall movements had nothing to do with a map or a maze or anything like that? What if instead, the pattern spelt words? Some kind of clue that'll help us escape."

Minho rolled his eyes. "Dude, do you have any idea how much we've studied these things? Don't you think we would've noticed if it were spelling out freaking words?"

"Maybe it's too hard to see with the naked eye, just comparing one day to the next. And maybe you weren't supposed to compare one day to the next, but look at them one day at a time?"

"Tommy, I might not be the sharpest guy in the Glade, but it sounds like you're talkin' straight out your butt to me." Newt laughed.

"Actually, he has a point." I said, I think I kind of understood what he was saying. Maybe we've just been studying things wrong this entire time, and we were missing something.

Thomas looked over at me, hope glimmering in his eyes. "Okay. You've always had one Runner assigned to one section, right?"

Minho nodded. "Right."

"And that Runner makes a Map every day, and then compares it to Maps from the previous day, for that section. What if, instead, you were supposed to compare the eight sections to each other, every day? Each day being a separate clue or code? Did you ever compare sections to other sections?" Thomas suggested.

Minho rubbed his chin. "Yeah, kind of. We tried to see if they made something when put together.. Of course we did that. We've tried everything."

"We obviously haven't tried everything, because otherwise we would've found a way out by now." I interrupted.

"You're lucky that I'm actually friends with you, otherwise I'd kick your shuck butt." Minho grumbled, and I grinned.

I was about to make another smart ass comment, but Thomas spoke.

"Wax paper."

We all looked at him, puzzled.

"Huh? What the-" Minho started.

"Just trust me. We need wax paper and scissors. And every black marker and pencil you can find."

---

Newt went to look for black pencils and markers, Minho was searching for scissors, and I was getting wax paper from Frypan. I didn't know what Teresa was doing, but I assumed she stayed back with Thomas.

Frypan was definitely resistant against the idea of us taking all of his wax paper. He claimed that he needed it for baking, especially since the supplies had been cut off. When I told him what we were doing, he finally let me have it.

Turns out that Minho couldn't find any scissors, so he grabbed a couple of razor sharp knives instead.

When Thomas had finally gathered all his necessary supplies, he set everything down on a table. Newt, Minho, Teresa, and I all crowded around Thomas to see what he was up to.

"This better be good." Minho warned, but I could see in his eyes that he was interested.

Newt leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. "Get on with it, Greenie."

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