"They're not coming."
The other Gladers and I stood in front of the Doors as they started opening. Chuck looked so eager, so desperate for Minho, Alby, and Thomas to be alive. I'd long since given up any hope, but I stood with him, not wanting to ruin his. At least it had stopped raining.
The Doors finished opening, and as I'd expected, no one was there.
"Told you, Chuck," Newt said quietly. "They're not coming back."
Chuck's face fell as he and the other boys turned and started walking away. When he looked up at me, the pain in his face broke my heart. Once again, I felt a stab of anger at whoever had dumped this kid in here. He deserved to be with loving parents, to have a mom who tucked him in at night, a dad who helped him with homework. Not this.
But then his eyes widened as he looked back into the Maze.
One of the boys who had been leaving, a guy named Zart, looked over his shoulder. Stopped. Turned. "No way," he whispered incredulously.
It was an odd, lopsided silhouette of a figure I saw first.
Then, as it got closer, I could make out two boys, supporting a third between them.
No way was right.
Chuck let out a whoop as Minho and Thomas stumbled through the Doors, back into the Glade. They laid Alby's unconscious body on the ground and collapsed beside him.
They were alive. They'd actually survived the night.
Immediately, they were bombarded with questions from the other boys. People were tripping over each other in their eagerness to talk to them. Their voices grew, trying to be heard over all the noise, making my head hurt until Newt screamed at them to shut up.
He shoved his way to the front until he was standing directly next to Minho. "What happened?" he demanded.
Minho looked up at him and smiled weakly. "It's good to see you, too." When Newt didn't return the grin, he sighed. "The Griever wasn't dead. It jumped up, stung Alby, and left. And then Greenie here--" He gestured to Thomas-- "decided to run in and try to get himself killed. And we lived. That's all."
I looked at Thomas. He wouldn't get in trouble, would he? After all, Minho and Alby might not be alive if it weren't for him.
Gally pushed his way through. "I say we Banish the Greenie," he announced.
Everyone looked at him, some looking furious.
"I mean," he continued, "he broke a rule. These rules are what've kept us alive this long. If we let this go, everyone will think it's okay to break rules. So let's Banish him."
This caused a round of protests from the others.
"No!" Chuck yelled. "He survived!"
"Maybe he could teach us how to escape the Grievers!" someone else suggested.
"He needs to be punished," said Winston. "Maybe not Banished, but a week in the Slammer, at least."
This went on and on.
"Shut your bloody holes!" Newt screamed.
They obeyed.
"We'll hold a Gathering," Alby's second-in-command said. "But first, let these shanks breathe. Alby's been bloody stung."
Clint and Jeff ran over and picked Alby up. They started carrying him to the Homestead. The other boys stepped back, forming a circle around Minho and Thomas. Minho continued to smile at them, as if he'd just completed a great deed and the rest of us were his fans. I wasn't surprised that he was proud to be one of the first boys to survive a night in the Maze. Under the arrogant mask, though, was worry. Worry for Alby. Worry for Thomas. I, too, hoped the Greenbean wouldn't be punished. Yes, he'd broken a rule, but...
And yes, I still wanted to be a Runner. These boys had proved that the Maze wasn't a death trap.
Newt sent Minho and Thomas to the Homestead, calling for a Gathering once they were all rested up. Not surprisingly, I wasn't invited. I mean, I knew it was only for the Keepers of each job. But still. I was curious about what would happen to Thomas. I would have liked to voice my opinion, too.
I helped the Track-hoes, as usual. Zart, their Keeper, was at the Gathering, so I allowed myself to slack off. The boys were working hard; no one would notice how much less work I'd done. Though if Newt found out, I supposed, he'd kill me. I smirked to myself. It was too much fun, annoying boys. It was a good thing I wasn't some weakling princess. Otherwise, I'd probably be some subservient idiot who'd do everything these guys told me to shucking do. But, even with my memory wiped, I knew I'd never been the typical girl. I was tough as nails. And proud of it, too. I tossed my braid and dropped my shovel on the ground.
"I'm done," I announced.
Will, the dude that had called dibs on me the first day, gaped at me. "You can't do that!"
"I can do whatever the bloody shuck I want," I retorted. "Until Alby's well again, there'll be no one to yell at me for everything I do wrong." A lie.
Will stared for another moment. Then he started grinning. "You're starting to sound like Newt, you know? Maybe you're spending too much time with him."
"Probably." I shrugged indifferently. I hadn't noticed, but it was likely. Besides, Glader slang was starting to feel natural to me. "Why? Is there a problem?"
Will started to laugh, neglecting the mound of dirt he had to dig in front of him. "Just remember, I was the one who called dibs on you the day you came up. So if you need some lovin', I'm here for ya." He flexed his arm and kissed his bicep. "It'd do good not to mess with the second-in-command, too. He has enough to deal with without distraction from a pretty face like you."
"What?" I couldn't help the blush that crawled up my neck. "I don't--I'm not--" I blew out a sigh, then said as calmly as I could, "I'm not messing with him."
Will rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure you aren't."
I couldn't help feeling frustrated. And embarrassed. "Look," I said firmly. "I know he's busy enough. I shucking told you guys, I'm not here to repopulate for you slintheads. Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I need to moon over a guy." If I did, I'd do a damn good job of hiding it. But Will here was wasting his time if he meant to flirt with me.
"But--"
"No." My answer was final. "All I want is a way out of this place. A guy will just be a distraction."
I worked on digging dirt up until the Gathering was over. Minho came out of it looking fairly happy; he swaggered over to us, a sassy smirk on his face.
"Hey," he said. "I made Thomas a Runner."
The words sank in. Slowly. I stared at the older boy, even as Will and the other Track-hoes congratulated the Greenie.
A Runner? The Greenie?
I doubt that was meant to rile me up.
But that was exactly that it did.
"Excuse me?" I couldn't believe it. I should have been the one to go in there and save them. I'd been here longer than Thomas, after all. I should be the shucking Runner.
Minho looked surprised at my anger. "What's your problem, shank?"
"What's my problem?" My voice came out as a hideous yell. "Did you just ask what's my shucking problem?"
People started looking at me, eyes wide. From the other side of the field, Newt ran over, looking alert for danger. Yeah, there was danger. Me. Because if I didn't become a Runner, I'd murder someone.
"What the shuck are you bloody yelling about?" he snarled at me.
It's your fault! I wanted to scream. But yes, it was his fault I was still shucking alive and not Griever food.
So I said, "Sorry. It's nothing."
If I had to do it alone, without anyone knowing...
So be it.
