A/N: If you couldn't tell from the title, this one shot is in reference to page 250 of TDC. So, if you haven't read that/don't want any spoilers, then please please please stop reading now. They're just references, but if you apply any brain whatsoever I'm pretty sure you'll be able to figure out a very important plot point, so proceed with caution!
Trace tried to spread her time evenly between the Gladers, trying to spend as much time with each one of her favourite characters as possible. Today she had the pleasure of sharing lunch with Alby, Newt and Thomas, who was spending the day with the track-hoes.
Track-hoes.
There was no way she'd ever not find that name funny.
She'd been trying to find out as much as she could about the Glade. The kind of thing they didn't dwell on too much in the books.
"Newt, how high do you think the walls are?" She asked, while staring up at the monstrous structures. She took a sip of her water.
"About 250 metres, why?"
She spat the water out. Thomas, who'd been sitting opposite her, was the victim of this.
"Hey!" He yelled.
But she was too horrified to apologise.
"Newt, why would you say that? Why would you say 250 metres, exactly?"
She just couldn't believe he, of all people, had picked that number. That horrible, terrible number.
"Well, that's just my estimate."
"Well, why would you estimate that?"
"It's just a number," he said, incredulous.
She glared at him, shaking her head.
"Does anyone have a small towel of some sort? A flannel, perhaps?" asked Thomas.
"Slim it, Thomas. Go whine somewhere else."
She was too preoccupied with the infamous number to care about Thomas at this moment.
"Gee, you're awful cranky today."
Her head snapped around.
"What. Did. You. Say?"
Thomas gulped.
"I just meant- I mean-"
"How dare you say those words! And in front of Newt too!"
"What-" Newt started.
"Slim it, Newt. I'm mad at you, too!"
"Why-" he couldn't finish his sentence.
"Would everyone please just slim it! I'm tryin' to have my lunch in peace!"
Trace had forgotten Alby was even there until his outburst.
"Sorry, Alby," the other three all muttered.
Trace returned to eating her sandwich.
"I mean, really, you of all people should know not to fall for that girl's immaturity, Newt."
The girl stopped mid-bite. She couldn't believe this was actually happening.
"Why- why would you say that to Newt, specifically? Why shouldn't he fall for it?" She was just angry now.
"Well, Newt's pretty clued up. Doesn't fall for things very often, does he, ya shank?" Alby answered quickly.
"Just the once," she muttered under her breath.
"What was that?" Asked Thomas.
"Nothing," she replied.
"No, really. I want to know. People never tell me things."
"Well, I'm not telling you this."
"Let it go, Thomas," Alby said, interrupting the exchange.
"No. I really want to know."
"Tommy, just leave it," Newt said, joining in now.
"No, Newt. You don't understand. I'm not even the Greenie anymore and people still refuse to tell me things."
"That's life, ya shank. Nobody tells everyone every buggin' thing they know. Whole system would be chaos."
"But, Newt-"
"Leave it alone, Tommy."
"But-"
"Please, Tommy. Please."
And with her heart falling into a black abyss, Trace fell off her chair.