The Maze Runner (Terra+Newt)

Chapter Thirteen

I LOVE THAT PICTURE OF TBS! ⬆️⬆️

***

    Gally suggested that the Runners don't run for a few days, until we figured something out. Newt agreed, Minho didn't. I agree with Minho; we're Runners. Running is our job. But Newt's the boss now.
It was the night after Alby died and I couldn't sleep. It's like the Maze was calling to me, like it wanted me to go run it.

About five minutes later I snuck outside and ran for the Doors. I would wait until dawn and as soon as they opened I would run. I couldn't stand it, the feeling of not knowing what's out there. I had to find out—

"And where do you think you're going?"

I stopped and sighed. Gally stood in front of me, between me and the Maze Doors. It was nearly dawn and I could hear the Doors groaning.

"Into the Maze." I said.

"Really?" Gally asked. "Because, if I remember correctly, Newt said that NO ONE is aloud in the Maze right now."

"Gally, I'm a Runner," I told him. "I can't just sit around all day picking potatoes and cabbage!"

"Well that's the thing isn't it? You're not a Runner. Newt never made it official, and neither did Minho." He stepped forward and grabbed my arm.

"I have permission to put anyone who tries to go out there into the Pit," he said, and started pulling me to the Pit—basically a jail.

"Newt gave you permission?" I asked.

"I did. I'm third in command, remember?"

Great. Stuck in the Pit for who knows how long.

"You stay in here until dinner." Gally says, answering my question.

I walked down into the hole and Gally locked the barred door behind me. Then, without a goodbye, walked away.
I told myself that this wouldn't be that bad, but about thirty minutes in, I was bored out of my mind.
The Pits are on the other side of the Glade, so not very many people walk by.

     ***

I was just sitting in the dirt, drawing in the dirt with a stick, when Newt walked up and crouched at the door.

"What'd you do to get in here?" He asked with a humorous smile that I couldn't help returning (and blushing).

"Tried to go into the Maze," I replied. He just nodded.

"Newt, I know what me and Minho found sounds crazy," I said,"but you've gotta trust me."

"I do trust you, Terra. It's just that Gally doesn't, and a lot of the other shanks don't either." He looked troubled. Tired. Worried. Scared.

I didn't answer, and for a few moments we just sat in silence.
There was something about Newt that calmed me—I don't know what it was, but it made me feel calm, steady.

"Were you gettin' bored in here?" He broke the silence, gesturing to the drawings in the dirt.

"Oh no, I just love drawing in the dirt while sitting in a cell all shucking day." I was still getting used to the Glader's strange words. Shuck, shank, clunk, good that. Slinthead. I haven't said that one yet, but I was dying for the right moment to call someone that.

Newt laughed and the word "adorable" popped into my head, because that's what his laugh was. There was something else I was thinking but I didn't want to admit it to myself.

"Well, if you want, I can keep you company," he said, sitting down. "I'm not very good at entertaining, though."

I tried to think of something sarcastic to say back but Newt leaned forward to grab a leaf and his hair fell over his eyes. As he straightened up, he ran a hand through it to comb it back.
That boy is a dream, I thought. And he was. That's what I didn't want to admit to myself—
That not only was his laugh adorable, but he was. His smile, his voice, his hair, everything.
For a moment we were silent.
Too late I realized that I was staring but Newt didn't seem to notice. He was folding the leaf in half.
"Why would anyone wanna put a bunch of kids in a giant maze?" I asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Not sure," he didn't look up from the leaf. "You can ask the people who put us in here if you ever meet the bastards."

"Oh no. I'll demand," I said and Newt laughed.

"I wonder if I've ever ridden a horse?" I wondered out loud.

"Wonder if I've ever been to the beach?" He said with a faraway look in his eyes.

"What's your favorite animal?" I asked him.
He thought for a moment.
"I like wolves, I guess. They're pretty cool."

"Really? Me too," I laughed.

"No way? That's cool." He smiled. I returned it.