Pasty's story [The Maze Runner]

20

 “You’re scaring me,” Clint said quietly, “Damn it, Pasty! Tell me what happened!”

 Pasty shook her head in disbelief. She had to think fast of something to say, though. And she didn’t want to tell the truth. It would just be another crazy thing to add to her list of things she’d done and experienced. And she didn’t want that.

 “Nothing I…I just freaked out. Do you think she’s OK?” Pasty said. Clint didn’t seem convinced that nothing had happened but he let it go, shrugging.

 “I don’t know. Truth is, Pasty, the Med-Jacks know a bit, but not about this. This is out of our league.”

 Clearly Pasty thought, but rather than saying it, she nodded in a way she hoped was understanding. She straightened up, wiping her sweaty palms on her trousers and trying not to think about what had just happened.

 “I’m gonna go,” Pasty said hastily “I hope she wakes up soon.”

 But the truth was, she didn’t. She didn’t want Teresa to wake up. She knew that when she did, things would start to get complicated. Really complicated.

 Leaving the room, Pasty walked quickly out of the Homestead and across the Glade. She needed someone to talk to, but she was scared, and didn’t know who to trust. Alby wasn’t an option. Neither was Minho. He was out running in the Maze. And Newt had enough on his mind.

 Pasty realised she was alone.

 She strolled around a while, mulling it over. A sister? She didn’t even think about whether she’d ever had parents, let alone siblings. She’d always assumed she was simply alone in this strange world. She’d come to know and understand the place better than wherever she came from, simply because she didn’t remember where she was raised, or where she’d played as a kid, or where she’d taken her first steps. The Glade was her home, and anything outside it seemed foreign. The idea that Teresa, who seemed to have partial memory, might know where she came from scared her, for some reason. She found herself wondering why anyone ever bothered to try and get out. Aside from the Grievers, the place wasn’t so bad, really. From what she knew of the outside world, it was the best place they could hope to be.

 Another thing worried her, though. Everything she remembered of Teresa was bad. The dark presence she’d exuded in her dream like state was enough to make Pasty shiver just thinking of it. If Teresa really is so bad…does that mean we’re the same? Am I bad too? Pasty thought. She didn’t believe so, but the thought niggled at her mind all night. Even Minho’s presence when he returned from the Maze couldn’t comfort her.

 “What’s wrong?” he asked her as they were settling down to sleep. Pasty found that she didn’t want to talk about it. Not to Minho. She couldn’t stand the idea that he might think she was crazy. Somehow, she knew that she had to keep what Teresa had said to her a secret from him. At least for now.

 “Nothing in particular,” Pasty lied “I just…there’s a lot going on.”

 Minho settled next to her on the ground, his face burying into her hair “I know,” he said “It’s a pile of klunk. We’ve just gotta keep going.”

 “I know,” Pasty replied. Minho propped himself on his elbow, his free hand circling over the exposed skin on Pasty’s abdomen where her tank top had ridden up a little.

 “Get some sleep,” he said softly, in the voice he reserved only for her. It was so kind and full of love that Pasty relaxed a little. He kissed her hair and caressed her skin gently until she fell asleep.

***

 When Pasty woke, Minho’s arms were locked around her. She felt refreshed, and she knew in her mind what she had to do that day.

 She needed to talk to Thomas.

 It was lucky he was spending the day in the Slammer. As soon as Minho set off into the Maze for the day, Pasty went to find Thomas. He was currently the only resident of the Glade’s prison, and he looked pretty miserable, sat alone in his cell. He jumped to his feet when he saw Pasty, poking his head up against the barred window at the door.

 “Is the day up?” he asked.

 “It’s not even twelve yet,” Pasty said, rolling her eyes, “I need to talk with you, Greenie. This is the best time to do it.”

 “What about?”

 “I know about you and…the girl,” Pasty said, reluctant to say her name “Your telepathy?”

 “Oh,” Thomas said. He sunk away from the window a little “You must think I’m crazy.”

  “No,” Pasty said “I’m one of the only shucks around here who don’t and won’t. Not ever. I heard her too. In my head.”

 Thomas perked up “Really? Then…then maybe everyone can do it. Maybe it’s her that’s special, you know? Maybe it’s like…her thing or something. Like you can see the future, right? Maybe…maybe it’s a female thing. Maybe females have superpowers.”

 Pasty smiled a little “I’d like to believe that, shuck-face, I really would. But hell, I think it’s something to do with us. You, me…Teresa. I think maybe we’re different. And maybe that’s why you two are the last here, and I was the first girl. You see…Teresa…she said that she’s my…my…”

“What?”

 Pasty sighed “My sister.”

 Thomas’ mouth gaped. Pasty shrugged.

 “I know. That was my reaction. But it would make sense! If we’re sisters, maybe that’s why we can communicate.”

 “But what about me? I’m not related to you…am I?”

 “Maybe…maybe you and her were lovers?”

 Thomas blushed “I suppose that would make sense,” he mumbled. Pasty nodded as a silence fell between them. She wanted desperately for Thomas to say something that might comfort her, but he didn’t. She gripped the bars on the window, her eyes pleading with Thomas, but he wasn’t looking.

 “Please, Thomas, say something,” she whispered “I’m scared. I didn’t want this. I never wanted this.”

 Something seemed to click in Thomas. He raised his head to look at Pasty. Then he stepped back towards the door and gripped her hands over the bars.

 “It’s OK,” he said “You’re not alone. We can be in this together. OK? And…and you have Minho and Newt. Alby. I know he’s not at his best right now, but he cares, and that’s what matters.”

 “Thomas,” Pasty said, tears dribbling down her cheeks “What if I’m like Teresa? Like I think she is? What if…what if I’m bad, like her?”

 Thomas blinked, confused. Then he shook his head “No, Pasty. We don’t even know this girl yet. And…and even…even if you are sisters…that doesn’t mean you’ll be alike. I don’t know you yet. Not really. But I know you have a good heart. A kind heart. And I know no matter who your family is, or what they’ve done…that doesn’t shape who you are. You’re good, Pasty. You’re good.”

 Pasty’s head pressed against the cold metal bars, and she nodded slowly. She stayed there a long time, and she and Thomas talked, and it felt like she was a little less alone in the Glade for a while.