➊ 𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 - 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨, ᵗᵐʳ

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟐: 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞

"WOOOOOHHH," Chuck screamed, but suddenly stopped. "Wait... that means I won't see you every day?"

"It won't really change anything. I'm always in the slammer anyway."

Seriously, was being called a Runner all it took to become one? That's it?

"Hey, Evelyn!" I turned my head towards the sound of the familiar voice. It was Hawk, his tousled brown hair catching the light as he spoke.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I heard you became a Runner! I won't congratulate you though, I became one because there was no one. Not out of choice."

"Kinda why you're not me."

He let out a chuckle, half irritated, half amused. "Usually it's the Keepers who handle the training and assignments, but as you might've noticed... MINHO REFUSES TO DO HIS JOB!"

He shouted the last part right as Minho walked past. Minho gave him a quick glare and snapped back, "It's not your shucking business," before heading toward the campfire where a group had started eating.

"Come on," Hawk said, gesturing for me to follow as he walked towards the area. "We'll grab something to eat and then head to the map room."

I grabbed the strange-looking oats Frypan was slopping into bowls and a glass of water so small I had to refill it three times. All the Runners were gathered together for once, not scattered or lost in the Maze. Ben sat beside Hawk and another guy, while Minho was with Newt and some of the Keepers. Gally, of course, was with the Builders, scowling like usual.

I started with Simon, Chuck, and Frypan, but the second I was done eating, Hawk practically dragged me away.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he led me toward the woods.

"The map room. It's where we go after runs."

Of course, the woods. The same ones I saw him and Ben sneak out of while whispering about me, really subtle.

The structure we arrived at looked like a giant version of the Med-Hut. Wooden walls, sloped roof, and a big ol' mystery vibe. Inside, a huge table sat under a dusty sheet.

"What's under this?" I asked, pointing toward the center.

"That, Evelyn"—he yanked the sheet off in one dramatic pull—"is the Maze."

Underneath it, a tiny replica of the Maze made entirely out of sticks was laid out like some kind of spooky puzzle board.

"Wait—didn't you say you haven't finished exploring the Maze? And where's the exit on this thing?"

Hawk looked at me, but then his eyes flicked to something behind me.

"He didn't," a voice cut in. "I did."

I turned around already annoyed by the look on Minho. Minho, Minho, it's always about him and always will be.

"Oh, now you want to see me?" I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms.

"Got to make sure your leg's fine."

"Oh, I'm fine. Are you?" I didn't even make it sound like a question—and it clearly hit, 'cause his jaw tightened.

"I made you a Runner, shouldn't you be grateful?"

"Guys," Hawk cut with a sigh, raising a hand between us. "Can we not turn this into a full-blown roast battle?"

"Anyway," he continued, pointing to the map. "This is a model of the Maze. No, there's no exit. And yeah, Minho's explored every shucking inch."

"If there's no exit, why are we still wasting time in it? Why does everyone think there is?"