Survive Till Dusk (The Maze Runner)

Chapter 23 // Unlikely Allies

*Scarlett's P.O.V.*

I stormed out of the operation room, my feet carrying me as fast as they possibly could. 

How could my own mother betray me? The thought pounded in my head in a tumult of anger and hurt — feelings that felt all too familiar these days. 

"Scarlett," I heard someone shout out as footsteps echoed towards me. 

I stopped in my tracks. What did anyone still think they could say to me at this moment? After finding out something so jarring. I thought I had excused myself as subtly as possible and no one would follow me out like they did with Alex. I spun around to face the direction of the operation room I had just come from. A few feet away stood the last person I would have expected. 

"Are you alright?" Brenda asked me in a genuine tone.

"W-what," I managed to stutter, not sure exactly what she wanted me to say back. 

Brenda sighed loudly, taking a few more steps towards me to be more within earshot. "I know you just figured it out yourself. About Evelyn — that she's your mom."

The whole confrontation made me start to feel uncomfortable — amplified by the fact that my horrid feelings already made me feel uneasy around Brenda, regardless of the conversation. 

"No excuses, really. It just completely slipped our minds to mention it before the mission was over," she continued. 

Those words made me angrier and I couldn't keep the words from coming out of my mouth. "What?! You knew about her the whole time!?"

Brenda nodded in a blood-boiling calm manner. "Well, not your Glader friends. Only a handful of members here at the Right Arm, myself included, really. So don't worry, we tried to keep her identity pretty secret." She offered a small smile, as if that was going to make me feel any better in the slightest. 

"Are you actually kidding me?" I questioned, distraught. "Don't worry?! You kept her identity a secret — from me!?" 

"Oh, you don't know-" Brenda started.

"What?! I don't know what exactly!?" And now my emotions got the best of me. I couldn't push them away any longer. I couldn't avoid Brenda anymore. I couldn't be angry at everyone and everything anymore, without saying it out loud. And no matter how hard I had tried and how stupid it seemed, I couldn't get over the feeling I've had — since that day I woke up at the WICKED facilities — of Thomas moving on so quickly when I finally thought we had something going on... "Tell me exactly what it is I don't know!" I threw my arms around psychotically to excentuate my words. "Do I not know that my mom is working for WICKED? With people who've stolen and tested on children. CHILDREN. So many people are dead — friends, family — because of them. Is that it?"

"Scarlett-" 

"NO. You're right: I don't know why my mom, out of all people, would be one to help do that. But maybe it doesn't surprise me that you wouldn't get it." I pointed my finger at her, oddly building up the most confidence I ever remember having. "You don't even get what it means to feel unwanted by someone who forgets about you the moment you're not there. Running around kissing whoever," I flinched at the last sentence as it left my lips. That was too personal and I didn't like admitting it to her face. 

"What does that even mean?" Brenda interjected, still quite calmly.

"I-I know you and Thomas kissed," I quieted down a bit. "I saw it." 

Her eyes widened slightly as she came to terms with what I was telling her. I continued into detail. "Some WICKED staff showed me a video of you guys, you know... in that tunnel." I felt weird for confessing that, as if it was some kind of forbidden footage I was talking about. I suddenly felt like the dictionary definition for "invasion of privacy". "You-"

"Just listen to me," Brenda huffed. I stopped in my tracks, not knowing what else to rant on about anyways. "So, are you done?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest, pressing her lips together in a thin line. If anyone saw us right now, it would look like a mother getting ready to scold her child after they threw a major temper tantrum. 

I nodded slowly. I could feel the heat flush to my head, immediately feeling embarassed by my outbreak and wanting to take back this whole conversation.

"Alright," Brenda started. "Who do you think planted the transmitters in the WICKED building?" 

I crinkled my eyebrows in confusion. "Uh, I don't know, does it matter?" 

Brenda shook her head disappointedly, letting out a single sarcastic laugh in the process. "Your mom's the Right Arm's undercover agent, Scarlett. We keep her identity secret to protect her from WICKED, not because she works for them."

My eyes met Brenda's, shock written on my face. "I-I-I didn't-"

"-know," Brenda finished the sentence for me, a slight ironic chuckle lacing her tone. "You didn't know. That's why I was telling you," she continued to explain. "Now I also know why you were so cold to me and Thomas." 

"You knew?" I looked down at the fingers I was twiddling in mild shame. 

"I knew you were avoiding me. I thought maybe you just didn't like me and eh-" she shrugged. "That was fine by me. Not many people get along with me." She cracked a smile. "Especially with Jorge around all the time. That ol' man gets 'em all frightened." 

"Yeah, sorry," I mumbled, still upset, but more flustered upon finding out Brenda was actually one of the most fairly decent people around. "It wasn't about you. I was just... upset." 

"Well, no. It's definitely about me. I'm the one who kissed Thomas, not vice versa," the words slipped out of her mouth nonchalantly. 

My eyes flicked up quickly, glaring at her. 

"Relax," she spoke, raising the palms of her hands out defensively in front of her. "I didn't even know you existed back then. We were out in the Scorch and Thomas and I were getting chased by a bunch of Cranks that were way past the Gone. Long story short: we cut 'em off running through this maze of tunnels. Thomas wasn't doing well with it all and was ranting his socks off — like you just now," she raised her eyebrows at me, mockingly. "I told him to quiet down and pulled him into a side tunnel. His clumsy ass just stumbled a bit and we ended up closer than planned. Problem was, the boy wouldn't stop blabbering about his worries, so I kissed him to shut him up. I didn't think too much about it but Thomas pulled back and just said he "couldn't do that". Given, he was quiet the rest of the way out of those tunnels, but as soon as we surfaced and got back on our journey here with the rest of the group, he mentioned a Scar," she airquoted my nickname. "And that's when I knew to back off either way. 'Cause the way he talked about you, it was clear you were alive and going to be rescued no matter what. End of story." 

A short moment of silence. 

"Oh." It was all I could muster after her entire story tangent.

"WICKED was probably just trying to pull some kind of stupid, useless test again by getting you riled up," Brenda added. "Who knows with those fuckers." 

I gave her a small smile. "Sorry about that," I apologized sheepishly. "Thanks for explaining it all, now I don't have to avoid you," I giggled awkwardly. 

"I mean, all good. You're not half bad yourself," Brenda joked back. "Got more fight in ya than I thought. You can obviously keep your nutter of a boyfriend in check with his half-baked hero complex." 

I let out a genuine laugh, relieved that it actually wasn't as bad being acquainted, and friendly, with Brenda as I thought it would be. Man, I thought. Sometimes I could be too much in my head for my own damn good — jumping to conclusions instead of asking for explanations first. 

Hmm. Maybe Alex was right earlier, before Robin and the operation room fiasco interrupted her. Maybe it was time we started to communicate better. That really would save us a lot of trouble. Maybe I could try to properly talk to Thomas again soon. Later, I thought. First we'd save Minho.

With a glance of appreciation for what we just sorted out, Brenda and I made our way back to the operation room. A bit more studying of integral parts of the plan and some much-needed sleep before tomorrow's big mission; in hopes everything would work out how we wanted. 

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