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.*･｡. FLARES! .*･｡.
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016.
WICKED.
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"Why can't I come in?"
Kennedy sighed, "You can't Chuckie; keepers meeting."
"But I wanna know what they found!" He groaned, acting like the child that he was. She couldn't blame him. While they were all older than him, Chuck was just a kid. "Please, Ken?"
It felt mean, to keep him out of it. He was eager to know what they had come back with, but he couldn't know. Not yet, at least.
She had been right about her previous assumptions; when Gally had seen them return from the maze, he had been fuming. More fuming than he had been in words. For a moment, Kennedy had thought he would swing around and murder Thomas on the spot; the only thing to stop him was his need to follow the rules. If they had been any different, he might have done it.
A meeting had been called — demanded, even.
Gally wanted Thomas punished, straight after they found out if they had brought anything back. Apparently they had, and the rest the keepers had been called to the council house to see what it was and discuss what they were going to do.
The glade couldn' be told just yet, in fear that what they found would call for a moral panic. That was the last thing that they had needed — Alby being out and Ben getting stung had already been things that had shaken the gladers, and many boys were still asking about the box. Where good answers couldn't be given, Kennedy and Newt decided not to give any at all. Until they had the time to think about what they were going to do, and until they decided on those things, they were going to stay quiet. Kennedy didn't want to cause the boys more stress than they were currently under. Things were strange and uncertain, in the glade, and she wanted to avoid potentially making them worse. One step at a time; baby steps.
Unfortunately for Chuck, he wasn't a keeper. So, as a result, he wasn't allowed in. Kennedy couldn't make the exception. She had already made far too many, and it wasn't the best time to push any of the keepers to their limits. Gally was close to exploding, and if he exploded, Newt would start screaming and never stop.
"Sorry, greenie." She sent him a sad smile, "I'll come find you later— yeah?"
Luckily Chuck was understanding, and smart, and so he sent a smile of the same. With a wave, the boy trudged away from the council house and down the glade.
She felt bad.
Scrap that, Kennedy felt really bad.
After a moment watching after him, the girl sighed heavily and turned on her heel. She walked back into the council house and shut the door behind her, taking a second to compose herself for what felt like the millionth time that day, and then walked down the steps. The keepers turned to face her — and Thomas, since he was the main reason it had been called — and Kennedy tried to ignore Gally's prying eyes.
He was expecting s lot of her. She could feel it in his stare. It was no shock to anyone that Gally was prepared to go to any means necessary to punish Thomas. Although, it seemed like he didn't have to. Thomas was handing over reasons to be punished, as if it was all a fun game. He had just run off into the maze again, as a non-runner, and Gally wanted Kennedy to punish him, once and for all. Like Alby would have done, had he been awake and up to the job. Truthfully, she could understand why — it was against the rules, and would always be against the rules.
However, that didn't matter to Kennedy. Not at that time, at least.
When she had said that they could go out there, she had said it on the condition that they brought something back that could give them some hope. It seemed that Minho hadn't let her down.
The boys had come back with something, and it looked like a rather big something. Was she supposed to feel so elated? She did.
"Okay, boys." Kennedy hummed, "What did we find?"
Her eyes flickered to the metal in Thomas' hands, and frowned to herself in interest. All of the gladers who had gone on the little escaped exchanged looks, ones that Kennedy and Newt couldn't distinguish and that Gally and Jeff were confused by, before the newest of them stepped forward.
"This," he said, passing the object to Newt.
Kennedy moved closer to Newt, peering over his shoulder, eager to take a better look at the tin canister in his hands. She squinted down at it and pursed her lips, watching him twist it around in his palms. His thumb traced over the embossed lettering on it.
Thomas continued, "It was inside the griever."
"Inside it?" She echoed.
"Inside," he confirmed. They caught eyes, staring for a brief moment, before Kennedy averting her gaze to the item. "Right in the middle, we think. It was flashing."
It was flashing. Together, Newt and Kennedy observed the metal that flashed and beeped. They frowned at the blinking red light, noticing how much it seemed to replicate one of beetle blades that they occasionally found lurking around the deadheads. It was what the creators had used to watch over the glade, or so suspected, and every boy knew to never touch them. After a while of them being around, it had been decided that there was no way to touch them without injury — they had learnt that the hard way.
There was no choice, but to leave them be.
W.I.C.K.E.D
VARIABLE 07
"These are the same letters we get on our supplies," Newt broke the silence, aware Kennedy had been thinking the same.
She continued his train of thought, easily. A lot of the gladers, the keepers in paricular, often thought that Newt and Kennedy's minds were connected somehow. That, or the the two were able to communicate telepathically. It seemed the duo were always on the same page when no one else was. Their minds went to the same extents, and the same places, and they remained on the very same wavelength.
"And on the beetle blades," she noted, tilting her head to look at Minho under her lashes. Newt passed her the object, and she let her hands shake it a bit. Nothing happened. "Hey— didn't we find this logo in the maze, too? On the walls?"
"Yup." Minho popped the p, "Whoever put us here? They also made the grievers."
Kennedy frowned, "Fantastic."
She handed the item back to Thomas, knowing it belonged in the runners room until further notice. It would be safe — no one was allowed inside, apart from the runners. They'd take care of it.
"This is the first real clue— the first anything, you guys have found in years..." Thomas said, making sure to direct his words to one girl in particular. He didn't want to gloat about it, but he did want to prove a point: that he had found something, and that it might be a way to get them out there. Maybe not, but it seemed like a sign of the impossible becoming possible, "...right?"
"Yeah," she nodded, "Right."
"Then, we have to go back out there!"
Before the two in command could share a look, let alone say a single word, the keeper of the builders lurched into the midsts of conversation. There wasn't a chance that Gally would have let the greenie get away with this again — to Gally it just wasn't right.
It wasn't fair. Being able to break the rules, all the time. Thomas had been too suspicious for Gally's liking, and he was going to get that across to the others.
No matter what it took, he was going to make them realise.
"You see what he's tryna do, right?" Gally said, "First, he breaks our rules, and then he tries to convince us to abandon them totally! The rules are the only thing that have ever held us together!"
He paused momentarily, watching as the others either avoided his hard stare, or watched him right back. Each of them knew that he had a point, a very good one, but Thomas had a point, also. It was a tough situation, with two very valid arguments. They could either avoid any further chaos within the glade, try to get back to normal and focus on getting Alby better, or they could let Minho and Thomas go back inside and keep digging. And, unfortunately, it would be up to Kennedy to make the decision; the final cut. It would be helped by Newt, but, ultimately, whatever Kennedy said would go. As Gally stared, she dreaded the thought.
"Why are we now questioning that? Come on," the builder let out a sigh, hands on his hips. "If Alby was here, you know that he'd agree with me." When she looked down guiltily, Gally said, "Rules are rules; and this shank needs to be punished."
It had taken nearly a whole minute of silence for Kennedy to finally breathe a word. A minute of tension, of confusion for her.
An internal debate took place inside her pretty, little head. A war with two opposing sides. That minute had been a minute worth of pondering, endless thoughts at light-speed; every possible outcome rushed through her mind, before she could actually process any of them. Kennedy wondered how Alby had ever done this, every day for years — god forbid, she'd do it for days.
It was a long minute, that she didn't speak.
However, when she did speak, her words didn't disappoint.
"You're right. Thomas broke the rules," she nodded with lips pursed. "A night in the slammer, with no food."
"Come on, Kennedy! One night in the slammer?" Gally fumed openly, "You really think that's gonna stop him from going into the maze, again?"
"No, I don't." Her voice was blunter this time. Her eyes looked to Newt, who was listening attentively. "But that's a punishment, and you won't stop asking for one!" Gally grumbled, but listened to her. "And I know we can't just have non-runners running into the maze, whenever they feel like it."
Gally held his breath, while the other keepers — and Thomas, who felt awkward — observed with close eyes. They were curious, wanting to know more about this new side to Kennedy; she was a leader now, and she was changing. She was trying to lead. Perhaps she was simply growing into her own skin, or she was prepared to take the bullet in hopes of saving everyone else (like always), but it was different. A good different, they seemed to think.
Only time would tell.
"So, let's make it official— yeah?"
Her question was rhetorical, and no one responded.
She took a chance and joint stares with Thomas; the boy she had suddenly felt so angry with when the new girl had arrived and remembered his name, the boy that she had cried over when he'd run into the maze, without a second thought. He was a boy and he was affecting her, affecting her in ways she couldn't explain. But he felt it, too — all of it. And he saw it, when her eyes met his: that thing. He had seen it from the moment they had first met, whatever it was. It was still there. Whatever the thing was, it was alive and it was thriving within them.
"Starting from tomorrow—" not an ounce of hesitation was in her tone, as the two watched each other. It was a look only ever shared by star-crossed lovers. Their connection was visible to the others, but they said nothing. Kennedy took in a breath.
"—starting from tomorrow, Tom's a runner."
Gally kicked off. Kennedy had anticipated it.
It obviously was not what he wanted to hear, she knew that, but he didn't make the decisions around here. Kennedy made them, now. She couldn't please everyone. Not after what they'd found.
Thomas was onto something. She couldn't deny that. When she had arrived in the glade, Kennedy had promised herself that she'd do anything to get those boys back home. And if there was a small chance — no matter what it took — of that happening, she would have been stupid not to take it.
Perhaps it was selfish of her to throw him into the maze, just to save the rest of them, but judging by the expressions on the rest of their faces, most of the other keepers were glad for the decision that she'd made. Maybe she hadn't let them all down; only Gally.
"Wow..." he breathed.
Gally sent her a disbelieving stare, betrayal soaking his features.
He would've thought that of all the gladers, Kennedy might have been the one to listen to him.
They were friends. Not as close as she was fo Newt, or Minho, but friends, nonetheless. And friends were supposed to support and listen one another. But apparently not this time.
Not when the choice was him, or the greenie.
When Kennedy was forced to pick between Gally and Thomas, it was clear who she was always going to pick. Every single time.
Even though Kennedy had only known Thomas three days, she was always going to pick him. She had made it obvious. From the first day, Kennedy had been fighting his corner. No matter what he did wrong, she defended him. They had a connection, one that all of the gladers could see, and that wasn't going to fade. Kennedy was attached to Thomas, and he was attached to her. Neither of them could see it, but they were. Attached, and utterly infatuated.
"Thanks, Ken." He muttered, angrily.
Kennedy sighed, and frowned. She felt guilty. He looked so sad, so crushed. It made her wonder if her decision had been the right one to make, "Gally—"
"No!" Gally spat as he left the council hall, thus leaving all of his friends to continue with what he saw as a merciless betrayal. It was a dramatic exit, but he felt dramatically about the situation at hand. He felt betrayed by his own friends.
"Gally, man— wait!" Frypan took it upon himself to follow the boy, and quickly rushed out of the council house. Clint and Zart followed in tow, mainly to get back to work for the time that they could. Soon enough, it was Kennedy, Newt, Minho and Thomas who were left in the room.
"Thanks, Kennedy." Thomas gave her a small smile.
He found himself speaking before he had really wanted to, in fear that he would make matters worse. Thomas was worried that she was still angry at him, like she had seemed to be earlier on.
Thomas hadn't known why she was suddenly so hostile, but he could only imagine that it was due to the stress he had constantly put her under. There was a lot for Kennedy to deal with, and his endless shenanigans were hardly helping her out with the new role; she was their leader now, while Alby was out, and she was getting a lot of stick from those who were demanding different things of her and Newt. Really, Thomas knew that he should have tried to making it better for her, and not worse. But, alas, it appeared that making things worse was what Thomas did best. He was good at it, even if he really didn't want to be.
Everyone had their thing, and Thomas' was throwing a spanner in the works.
When things started to get back on track, his natural instinct was to do screw it up. Thomas was reckless, and he couldn't accept it if his gut told him something was wrong. He needed to do something about it. That often got him into trouble, but wasn't it worth it? If it was for the greater good? Thomas believed that this was wrong; they didn't belong in the glade. It wasn't their home. It just wasn't.
It was like an itch that needed to be scratched. They had made it a home — it wasn't where they had belonged, but where they had adapted to belonging. This wasn't humane. Thomas needed to get out, and he knew Kennedy felt it too. She wanted out.
They both wanted to leave.
It appeared that Kennedy and Thomas were the only ones who held the fire in their belly's, wanting to get everyone out of there.
If making Thomas a runner, and turning the boys that she had known for years against her for a shank she had know three days, got them a step closer to getting the kids out of that place, then it was a risk Kennedy was going to take. She had to take it. Kennedy had promised herself that she would.
Nodding slowly, the strands of hair framing her face moving as though they were nodding as well, Kennedy tried to settle the toss and turn of her stomach. It had been a tough call for her to make, one that strained her friendship with Gally, and Kennedy hoped that it had been the right one. She really hoped something good would come of it, because she couldn't afford for it not to. There was too much on the line, for it to be wrong. It was time Thomas proved that it was worth it. That it was worth losing a friend, over.
He noticed her moment of uncertainty, "I won't let you down."
"Get booted, Tom." Ignoring his claims, Kennedy took a step closer to him, only stopping when her chin had been an inch away from his.
"That maze isn't as easy as it looks."
And then she left, nodding at Newt and Minho as she went. It was a moment to show Newt that all was well, and to tell Minho that he hadn't let her down — he had done good, this time. Like he always did.
As she left, Thomas watched after her.
He wanted to know what she had meant; how did she know that the maze was hard? Had she been inside?
Only runners were allowed in the maze, Thomas was very much aware of the fact. She wasn't a runner, she was a med-jack. It was then that Thomas realised he didn't know much about Kennedy, at all. At least, not as much as he wanted to. The girl had spoken as if she knew that the maze wasn't easy, from experience. It only made him want to know even more. Who was Kennedy, really?
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