Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
+ + +
The tables outside of the Homestead were all full of hungry Gladers, downing whatever the famous cook, Frypan, stirred up for them. Everyone here had their own group that they could call their family. It was almost surreal watching the smiles on their faces grow wider every time someone cracked a joke.
As strange as the Glade is, maybe whoever put us here wanted to protect us from the dangers outside of the Maze. Maybe we were meant to grow old here with our friends.
The thought sent shivers up my spine. Could I really see myself being happy here?
My thoughts were interrupted by something crashing into my shoulder. I swung around, meeting the eyes of a boy, who looked to be around eighteen, fall onto the dirt in front of me. When he attempted to get back onto his feet, someone tackled him to the ground, throwing playful punches at him.
"You slinthead!" The boy cried out, shoving his friend away from his face. His so-called friend stood back up, offering a hand to the other boy. The two turned their heads to stare at me. It surprised me to find out that I already met one of the boys. Minho's face fell at the sight of me.
"Hey, sorry for crashing into you. This shuckface," The boy shoved his hand in Minho's face, "wouldn't leave me alone."
Minho rolled his eyes, "Maybe don't steal my running shoes next time." I snickered, earning a glare from him.
"You're the girl everyone's been blabbin' about. You said her name was Vanessa?" Minho's friend pointed at me, looking at him. He nodded his head, intentionally avoiding my gaze. I couldn't help but smile and bump his arm with my elbow.
"You were talking to your friend about me?" I teased, pinching his shirt. He swatted my hand away like I was some bug.
"Don't be so full of yourself. Everyone's talkin' about you." He defended, starting to walk to Frypan to get some food. I followed, forgetting about looking for Newt. He can wait, my stomach can't.
Minho's friend was an inch or two taller than him. He had a mess of dark brown curls resting on his head. Some fell loosely over his face, hiding his deep brown eyes. Very faint freckles covered his nose and cheeks. He wore an intimidating expression that only went away when he smiled.
Both he and Minho wore brown, leather harnesses that attached to the chest. Small backpacks hung off their shoulders, carrying supplies like rope and miniature knives. I wanted to ask what the purpose of all of that was but felt it wasn't really my business or my concern.
"What's your name?" I asked him.
"I'm Theo. My friends call me-" He stopped, searching for some nickname he can throw out, "Actually, no, it's just Theo."
Once we approached the cook, he immediately handed the boys an apple each and two small brown lunch bags. Minho saluted him with the apple in his mouth. He walked backward, heading away from the tables, and sent me a wink and a wave. Theo smiled down at me, waving me off, "Nice meeting you, Vanessa."
