pretty eyes ~ newt

chapter 19: roadtrip shenanigans

"oh simple thing, where have you gone?"
somewhere only we know, keane
—

I blink in confusion. "Bertha? Who the fuck is Bertha?"

Jorge smirks over at me. "A beaut. Our savior. I'm telling you, she's the most beautiful car you ever seen."

I give Newt an incredulous look, raising one eyebrow. "Did he just say car? Our savior is a car?"

Brenda huffs out a laugh from her spot on the couch. "Don't ask, darling. I've learned to not question his weird obsession with cars."

I snicker at her comment. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jorge ignores us both, clapping Marcus excitedly on the back. "Alright kids, let's get the fuck out of here."

With that, he leads the way out of the room, practically prancing out the door with delight. We troop out behind him, not nearly with the same level of enthusiasm, but glad to get out of this godforsaken city nonetheless.

I walk wearily in the back of the group alongside Aris and Fry, my feet aching from all of the running and walking that I've had to do today. Not to mention, I haven't even eaten for several hours, not since those damn guards at Jorge's place took away all of our food and supplies.

So it's safe to say, I'm feeling pretty damn cranky. Not cranky as in crank-like—god no, but cranky as in...grumpy. You know what I mean.

"...I never thought I'd say it, but I miss the glade." I hear Fry's voice from beside me, and my head turns to glance at him as we keep a steady pace. His voice is wistful, almost plaintive, and I can see in his eyes that he really does mean it.

Minho sighs softly, nodding his head slightly in agreement. "Yeah, man. It wasn't the best hanging with you shanks all the time, but at least we felt safe in there."

Fry tilts his head back, his eyes full of nostalgia as they fix on the ceiling above us. "I can't believe childhood is over."

But Minho takes a long, hard look at him when he says these words, his eyes softening with sympathy soon after.

"Fry, our childhood was over long before we escaped that maze. Maybe we had it, once, before we were all put in there, but it was stolen from us. WCKD stole it from us—all of us, when they took our memories. We were forced to grow up."

Fry flicks his eyes to Minho, his brow furrowed as he mumbles his reply. "Maybe it was like that for you, Minho. But it was never like that for me. To me, the glade was our childhood. I grew up with those boys, and we rebuilt our own world together."

I swallow tightly as I listen quietly to their conversation, eyes flicking to Fry's face. I know it's not my place to interfere—it's not my story to tell. It was their maze, not mine. And even so, I can't say that I would be able to sympathize with Fry's feelings. I was never close to any of the other girls in my maze except for Gracie, let alone be able to build that same unique bond that Fry had described. But what I can understand, is Minho's resentment toward WCKD. They stole everything from us, and even now they still aren't satisfied.

Minho is silent for a moment, seemingly lost in his thoughts as he considers Fry's words. "It was going to end one way or another," he murmurs quietly. "Childhood or not."

"I know. But Minho, we lost so many..." Fry whispers back. And maybe it's a trick of the light, but his eyes seem glassy as they drop to the floor.

"Zart. Jeff. Winston. And Chuck. He was so young, Minho. And that's not even half of them," Fry continues, his voice wavering. "50 boys. We started with 50 boys, and here we are with no more than 4 left. What went wrong?"