Discoveries | TMR | Three

1:8

With the ball of his right hand, Alby rubs his sore and exhausted eyes as he sits on the deck of Adeline and Daniel's boat. "They've been in there for ages," he comments, his right foot jackhammering onto the wooden slats so violently it feels as though he may take off at any moment. "You guys think everything's okay?"

Over an hour has passed, and aside from Daniel furiously barging through them all to enter and the occasional footsteps darting back and forth, there has been no movement detected from the cabin. Hell, there have been a couple of times Alby found himself questioning if they were even still in there, but then he glances to every person strewn ungraciously over all available benches, chairs, and even the floor, and he realises that there would be nowhere else to go if they did leave.

"I'm sure she's fine," Rebecca mumbles.

It frustrates Alby to no end, hearing her emphasise that word and acting so nonchalantly when two of his own Gladers are clearly struggling. Why is she here? What purpose does she have to even be sitting next to them all? Other than to swarm Nick the second he walks out, that is.

To begin with, Alby had thought his disdain for the girl stemmed only from her obsession with Nick and apparent hatred of Adeline, but now he recognises that it is much more than that. Rebecca is a prick; there is no two-ways about it.

He has been in the centre of enough conflict for the past two weeks to last him a lifetime, however, so he does not comment

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

Matt does though.

Rebecca crosses her arms and slinks down her seat huffily. "Nothing."

She clearly had not thought anybody would quiz her on her words. "No, no," but it has reached that point in the day that everyone is exhausted and in no mood to put up with her snarky comments. "Tell us what you're thinking, Rebecca." The accusatory tone drizzles from his lips as he talks, and his expression is skewed in a mixture of intrigue and agitation.

Rebecca takes a minute. "Fine." Then speaks her mind. "I'm sick of everyone coddling her all the time. I think that she's rude, she's entitled, she's demanding of everyone's attention - as much as she says she isn't, and, quite frankly, I'm thinking it's about time everyone stopped pandering to her." She takes a break. "I mean, come on, she battered Nick black and blue, yet she's the one who everybody's-."

"Did you see what happened?" Matt asks bluntly.

And Rebecca falters. "Well, no... but-."

Matt shrugs. "Then don't comment."

"Don't talk to her like that," Harriett chimes in abruptly. "She's just saying what we're all thinking."

Alby, who had been silent until this point, slides his spine on the back of the bench in which he sits until the side of his head is mere inches from Frypans. "Speak for yourself," he mumbles quietly in the boys ear.

"What?" Harriett hears him.

Newt answers before he gets a chance to. "He said speak for yourself."

Harriett appears taken aback by his statement. From her spot on the floor; with her knees curled under her backside, she straightens her spine. "Hold on a minute," she says, "it was only earlier on today you were shouting at her over-."

"We lived with her for two years," Frypan interjects, his expression deadpanned and his eyes not even flickering her way. "We're allowed to shout at her."

Harriett scoffs, clearly unhappy with that response. "Listen, all we're saying is that enough is enough."

Maggie rolls her eyes. Cuddled up beneath Matt's right arm; the upper half of her body resting upon his chest, she groans loud enough for all to hear. "Why are you two even here?" she asks. "It's clear you don't want to be, so just go."