WICKED told them the Trial was over -no more tests, no more lies, but Frankie had been deceived enough to know that the statement alone could never be true.
Truthfully, she wanted to die. She wanted to leave this cruel world of being experimented an...
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FRANKIE'S HEAD WHIPPED to find her best friend.
Newt stood casually with his arms folded, listening to the rest of the list with a forced grin on his face.
"Tommy, slim yourself."
Thomas straightened his back, mirroring her grim expression, "Slim myself? That old shank just said you're not immune to the Flare. How can you—"
"I'm not worried about the bloody Flare, man. I never thought I'd still be alive at this buggin' point. And living hasn't exactly been so great anyway."
Hearing that, Frankie limped as fast as she could towards the infamous British boy and threw her good arm around his neck.
"I'm sorry, Newt."
Newt buried his face into the crook of her neck and patted her back twice, "I'm sorry. For snapping like that, earlier. I didn't mean to."
"I wanted to get that out of the way, mainly so I could tell you myself and remind you that the whole point of this operation has been to build towards a cure. Most of you not immune are in the early stages of the Flare, and I have every confidence that you'll be taken care of before it foes too far. But the Trials required your participation," Rat Man concluded solemnly.
"Weird nose guy!"
Frankie pulled away and looked at Reggie, who was raising his arm like an elementary student asking for his teacher's permission to pee.
"The name's Assistant Director Janson," Rat Man replied grumpily.
"Yes, weird nose guy," Reggie said with a knowing smirk, "Got to ask. Are there any side effects for being a Crank if we choose to undergo surgery?"
"No. But you don't have to worry about it."
Reggie scoffed, "Of course I worry! If there's a possibility that I'm about to drop dead in a second, I'd like to give an inspirational speech first."
Some girl scoffed, "Inspirational, my ass."
"You're not mentioned in the list, are you?"
"Wait—" Reggie looked at him, then Frankie, then back at him with an alarmed expression, "Are you saying—"
"Frances and you are immune. Your expulsion into the Scorch was just a part of the Second Trial," Rat Man said expressionlessly, "Give me a few moments to make sure the medical teams are ready. You can take this time to make your decisions."
Frankie gaped.
Part of the Second Trial.
Those weeks, months, of agonizing by herself— of almost succumbing to depression and taking her own life—
Reggie shuffled over with the Group B Leader Trio in tow.
Frankie looked at him, her lips pale from being pressed tight together, "Reg, I might punch that weird nose off his shucking face by accident."
