pretty eyes ~ newt

chapter 20: the crank tunnel

"anyway don't be a stranger"
scott street, phoebe bridgers
—

Newt's slender fingers weave in and out of my hair, interlocking the long strands into a single, complex braid. The small movements calm me down instantly, and it's the first time I can fully relax in days. His fingers weave through my tangled hair in an easy rhythm, and it's clear that he knows what he's doing.

I gaze through the window silently as he braids my hair, watching countless dunes and the occasional tree go by. The car bumps every now and then along the paved road, but the ride is still quite peaceful, for a change.

I wonder what it would've been like if my life hadn't been like this—if I had been born a hundred years earlier, before the Flare wreaked its destruction on the planet. Would I have lived a 'normal life'? Would I have gone to school, grew up, and eventually get married off to some rich man? ...nah, something else would probably find a way to fuck up my life anyways.

A loud snore from Fry interrupts my musings—everyone but Newt, Aris, me, and of course Jorge are fast asleep. The soft sound of their breathing fills the silence, the atmosphere in the car quiet for once. Jorge drives steadily, his eyes flicking to his rearview mirror to check on us every now and then.

"Done," Newt announces quietly, breaking the silence. "You got a hairtie?"

"Yep." I reach into my pocket, feeling around for the small elastic that I had found inside the same jacket a few weeks earlier. I hand it to Newt when I finally fish it out, and he ties off the braid with a flourish.

"What'd you think?" he asks me with a grin, his voice still soft to avoid waking up the others.

I peek into one of the car mirrors, my mouth falling open in a small "o" when I see my reflection. My hair is braided neatly into an elaborate french braid, a few stray tendrils of long dark hair framing my face. I find that I like this hairstyle better than when I leave my hair down like usual—it's different, but it looks gorgeous. Plus, it keeps the hair out of my face.

"It's beautiful, Newt. I love it," I murmur back, still in awe at his skill. "You braid way better than I do, that's for sure."

I pause, my eyes shifting to his brown ones curiously. "How did you learn, by the way? I can't imagine you were braiding many of the boys' hair back in the maze."

Newt laughs at that, his face breaking out into that familiar grin. "True that. Honestly, I don't even know myself how I learned, my fingers just knew what to do somehow. It feels natural, ya know? Maybe I had known how to braid before they took our memories."

I frown slightly as I nod my head in agreement. "Mm, that could be it."

I turn my gaze back to the front, the long braid sweeping down my back naturally. But my eyes narrow when I see us heading for a dark tunnel up ahead, brow furrowing in apprehension.

"Jorge...please tell me we aren't going in there," I mutter, leaning forward to get a better look. He turns his head back to look at me grimly.

"Bingo. It's the only way through this damn mountain," he responds, his lips quirking up into a smirk. "What, you afraid of the dark Isa?"

"No, but I'm afraid of what the dark could be hiding," I shoot him a pointed look, rubbing my wrist restlessly. Out of the corner of my vision, I see Newt's eyes follow my wandering fingers in concern, watching them absentmindedly trace my old scars.

"Agreed. I don't mean to be pessimistic; but if I were a crank, that would be the exact place I would hang out." Aris cuts in, eyes flicking to mine in worry. I see a glimmer of fear in his dark brown eyes—Aris may be immune, but we have no way of knowing who else is.