𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

It's either that or Tommy.
Take your pick.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Alright, Gladers! Light 'em up!" Alby calls with a grin — the first time I've actually seen the shank smile since being here. I throw a torch into the pile of wood and debris, hooting and cheering with the other Gladers. Our laughter and chants reverberate through the Glade, creating a mismatched mesh of voices that brings a wild smile to my face.

"Gladers! Gladers! Gladers!"

It's strange for this to feel so natural to me, even though just a month ago I was in the Newbie's position, wherever he is.

My day with Minho in the Maze was confusing at best, both of us trying desperately to connect the links between the old pattern and the new one, and then had the unlucky job of telling the rest of the Runners. Their reactions were staggered, some relieved but most concerned. I didn't imagine good reactions by any stroke of luck, anyway. Hank's reaction was probably the worst — and most dramatic — of them all, storming out of the Map Room and slamming the huge door behind him.

Gally has taken the liberty of fighting pretty much every shank in the Glade except me, and when I raised my hand to go next, his eyes just skimmed past me. It made my night. And when I teased him about it, the shank pretended it had never happened. Gally was too scared to fight me. It was comical, but I don't blame him — even I'd be too scared to fight me. Gally certainly wasn't helping with my ego.

I'm sat near Frypan Winston and Zart, completely zoned out of their conversation about the similarities between Billy, Hank and a pig, and although the topic is an amusing thought, my mind is very preoccupied at the moment. Throughout the day, Ben's screams echoed around the Glade walls, and a group of us lingered under Homestead after the doors shut, glancing anxiously up at the window if we heard even the slightest movement. In that sense, I'm quite lucky to be a Runner... I'm not confined in the Glade, I'm not bound by the oath that we all took to stay inside at all times.

"Hey, Greenbean," Newt says, sitting next to me and nudging my arm gently, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"I'm not the Greenie anymore," I remind him with a smile. I'm not the Greenie anymore. Finally, everyone can stop calling me that ridiculous nickname.

"I'm never going to stop callin' ya Greenbean."

Or not.

"How generous of you."

He clears his throat, "You met the Newbie yet?"

"No."

"He's an alright shank," Newt says, nodding to a slumped figure by a log — almost indistinguishable from the darkness. His head is hung, picking at the grass underneath him. I tilt my head as I look at him; I can make out dark brown hair, perhaps black, but that could just be the sparse lighting. "Done asked four questions in the first minute I met him this morn."

I chuckle. "Is that how I was?"

"What? Annoyin' and confused?" I shoot him a mock glare. "Yeah. We all were. Soon as he got out of the box he made a run for the Maze."

"A Runner?"

"Thought so too, until he face-planted. It was great," he says with a little laugh. "Speakin' of, I should probably go an' talk to him."

"Don't scare him," I say as Newt gets to his feet.

"Would I ever?" he says with a knowing grin before plucking Chuck's drink from his hands, much to his obvious distaste.

Chuck flings his arms around before checking to see if anyone else saw what he did. Zart, Winston, Frypan and I just look with amusement at the scene playing out before us. "Hey, ya shank!" Chuck insults. "I was drinkin' that!"

"Quick, someone grab popcorn," Zart comments with a snicker.

"I wish," I say to him and look at Frypan with big eyes, but Frypan shake his head and Zart mutters something about making him into popcorn. I laugh at the notion. Once our laughter's died down, we all tune into Newt and Chuck's conversation, which consists of arguing over the drink that Newt decided to nick.

"You're twelve," Newt reminds Chuck.

He huffs in response, "Could be thirteen."

"You're twelve," Frypan, Zart, Winston and I say in unison. Newt chuckles and winks at us in thanks before heading off to the lone Greenie. I watch as Newt approaches slowly, so as to not throw him off before sitting next to him and offering him his drink, which the Greenie takes. Newt laughs at him, the fire lighting up his face as the drink is handed back to him. My mind takes me back to the night we first met — he did the exact same thing with me. It doesn't feel like a month ago, in fact it feels like years ago. I suppose that's because the Glade is all I can remember clearly. Those memories I have of life before the Maze are jarring, and I don't fully feel like they're mine, it's almost as if someone's tampered with them.

"What d'ya bet Clint and Jeff are—" Zart begins.

"A solid nine out of ten," I cut him off with a smirk. Jeff and Clint are currently in Homestead tending to Ben, although I'm sure they'll show their faces at some point or other.

Winston laughs, "I'd go as far to say nine point five."

"That's gross!" Chuck gags. "They're meant to be helpin' Ben."

"Probably helpin' each other too—" Zart says with a sly smirk. The group burst into laughter, Chuck's face aghast, which only makes us laugh harder. Sometimes we forget he's only a young lad — he acts so much like the rest of us that we treat him exactly the same, excluding a small joke about his height.

"Fry, d'ya have some holy water in the kitchen?" I ask.

"Don't act so innocent, Thea," Winston says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "I think everyone saw you and Newt yesterday in the grass."

My face immediately flushes a deep red. People saw that? I clear my throat, desperately needing to change where this conversation is headed. "Anyways so are what we betting with?" I say with an awkward cough.

"Nice switch of the subject."

"Drinks?"

Chuck grumbles, "I don't have one to bet with."

"I'd give mine away for free," I proclaim to the group. "It's disgusting. Tastes like Billy's bathwater."

Winston laughs, "Tried that, have ya?"

I roll my eyes. "You know me so well."

After a few more minutes sat with the small group of Gladers talking about what Billy's bathwater might taste like, I decided to meet the Greenie — it would probably make him more at ease to meet me since I was in his position only a month ago.

"Alethea's a Runner, and Keeper of the Map-makers," I hear Newt say as the Greenie studies me intently. I smile at him as I approach. Newt continues, unaware that I'm coming over and speaking in hushed tones. "It's probably best for ya stay on her good side... you're either friends or you're scared of her. Me personally? Bit of both."

"You're gonna make him hate me before I've even talked to him," I scoff, sitting down next to the Greenie and nudging him gently. He looks at me through brown eyes, searching my face and trying to figure out what sort of person I am. I have half a mind to mess with him, but there's not a doubt in my mind that he'll get enough of that from Minho. His dark brown hair is shorter than Newts, falling over his forehead, looking almost black. "I'm Thea. I was the Greenie until you came. I was probably more scared than you are."

The Greenie's voice is quiet, yet firm. "I'd be surprised if that was possible."

"It doesn't get better but ya get used to it," I inform him honestly, noting his unsettled fidgeting. My heart pulls at I study him carefully, his brown eyes darting side to side, as if he were expecting a fanged beast to burst out of the bushes. I felt the exact same way on my first day. All I wanted was the reassurance that I wasn't alone. "It's a simple system t'follow, really. I'm sort of a difficult person to get along with and I found it okay."

"Sort of?" Newt says incredulously.

"Slim it, Frog-face." I turn to the Newbie. "What's your name?"

"Thomas," he says, pain lacing his tone. I fight the urge to frown in sympathy, it's as though he was trying so hard to remember more, yet the memories disappeared as quickly as smoke in the air.

"Thom it is," I say with a cheeky smile.

He grimaces, "No thanks."

"It's either that or Tommy," my voice is a singsong. "Take your pick."

"I'll stick with Thom."

"Tommy it is," Newt decides with a smile. "Come on, you're the guest of honour. I'll show ya 'round."

"Yeah, it won't do ya much good sat on your arse all night."

"I have more questions," he protests.

"Well, you'd be a damn fool if you didn't," I reassure him. "Alby would lop my head off if I told ya everything before he gives ya the Tour. Word of advice, don't go doing nothing stupid. I'll catch you later, Thom."

❀

"Thomas is nice," I coax Minho, waving my hand in front of his face. Ever since two days ago, Minho's been more distant than ever, barely looking away from his notes in the Map Room. I'm not sure how he's not sick to death of worrying by now. We've spent almost all day in the Map Room and Minho deserves a break. I'm surprised Newt was able to persuade him away from our research to even come to the bonfire in the first place.

"Not interested," he states plainly, his face blank and devoid of emotion.

"You know, you might like people if you actually talk to them."

"I don't like you. And I talk to you."

I roll my eyes. Minho's tone is blunt and uninterested, yet I know he doesn't mean what he's saying. That still doesn't justify him being a pain in the arse. "Feelings very mutual, slinthead. Shuck you," I snap at him.

I seem to be the only one aside from Newt that can do that and not get their heads ripped off.

Minho scoffs, "What are you, some kinda friendship guru?"

"Nope," I say with a sardonic smile. "Just a girl."

"Real funny," he says dryly.

"What's got you in such a piss poor mood?" I complain before pulling him to his feet. "Come on. We're gonna go dance."

He raises his eyebrow. "To what?"

"Frankie's playing some atrocity on that makeshift guitar of his, come on. Let's go. No excuses."

❀

After an hour of dancing and singing with Minho, who's spirits were finally lifted to a level where he wouldn't lash out at anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way, I'm sitting back on the log with Newt, Thomas now disappeared with Chuck. I'm glad that Thomas has someone like Chuck to talk to, apart from the attitude, he'd be a great friend to Thomas. He was my first friend, after all. My mind flicks back to the little statue he entrusted me and the little game we'd been playing ever since.

I didn't want Chuck to give it to me — why should he give it to me when he can give it to his parents himself when we escape? So, I slipped the statue into his hammock, and the next night, I found it in mine again. Every single night we'd pass the statue back and forth, both wanting the other to have it.

Newt offers me a drink, and I take it warily, sipping it before grimacing at the bitter taste. I'd had so much of it a month ago that I didn't even notice that it tasted awful. "The drink still tastes just as bad the second time around," I say as Newt laughs at me.

"Third times a charm?"

"I hope not," I grumble. "I'm not tasting this shit ever again."

"It is a little disgusting."

"A little? I still stand by my statement that Gally pissed in it."

Newt chuckles, his eye lighting up as he looks sideways at me. "I still wouldn't be surprised."

I look back out at the walls, the dark ivy entwining with each other, clinging together as if one broke, then they all would. That's how it feels being a Glader, one person is removed and we all fall apart. But there's always a floor to catch us. There's always the foundations we built our rules upon. It's order. I've never especially loved the idea of rules, but I have a newfound appreciation for them. They keep us stable, strong. Order isn't easily broken around here.

I lean my head on Newt's shoulder, resting comfortably in the crook of his neck. As if on reflex, he wraps his arm around my shoulder and leans his head on top of mine. My eyes begin to flutter closed as Newt hums softly, a sweet melody that makes me relax into him.

"We're going to find a way out of here," I whisper before sleep pulls me under. "I promise you."

"I know, Scaredy-cat," he says, placing a tired kiss on the top of my head. "But don't go makin' promises ya might not be able to keep."

—
Hey guys! I was waiting twenty two chapters for this — I just love Thomas so much. I wanted Thea to call him Tommy, but I feel like that's Newt's thing so I settled for Thom.

Ugh I love Ben so much, even though he wasn't even in this chapter lmao. Damn you James Dashner (in the most respectful way possible). He kills off all the good ones. Lets just collectively pretend page 250 doesn't exist :)

~ sophie xx
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