THE HEARTS » TMR [1]

03. The Maze

All of the boys soon introduced themselves to Margaret. There were a few people she felt strangely at ease with—familiar with—and others who just stared at her all day without saying anything. Most of them then wandered off, each one giving Margaret a strange and lingering look. Margaret was well aware that she would never be able to adjust to it. Emptiness ate away at her insides, only to be replaced by a sadness that broke her heart. It was definitely too much to take in and process.

     She turned around and strolled off in the direction of the woods, where the trees stood in the sunlight. She had to process everything she'd just experienced in the last few moments alone, with no one around to help her. Margaret sighed as she sat beneath a tree, looking out at all the boys working in their respective locations. How in the world did they manage to stay alive living in—what they call it—the Glade? Margaret had doubts that the Gladers would last that long, but her surroundings convinced her otherwise.

     The floor of the courtyard appeared to be made out of huge stone blocks, many of which were cracked and overgrown with long grasses and weeds. An odd, dilapidated wooden building near one of the square's corners stood out starkly against the gray stone. A few trees surrounded it, their roots digging into the rock floor for food like gnarled hands. Another part of the compound had gardens where vegetables like corn, tomato plants, and fruit trees were grown, which Margaret recognized.

    She then noticed pigs, cows, and sheep being restrained in their own wooden pens across the courtyard. Margaret had felt relieved after seeing the animals for the first time; it had made her realize that she and the boys weren't the only living things in the Glade. But it also made her wonder who put them there, along with the teenage boys. She returned her gaze to see them at work, chopping wood, slicing meat, planting, and other such tasks. Margaret recognized some of them from earlier in the circle.

     There was Newt, the boy with a distinct foreign accent. Gally, the boy with the distinctive brows that accompanied his well-known rage expression. Alby, who, from what she'd heard, was the leader of the entire group and was also the one who found her in the woods. Newt told her she'd meet him, but she didn't know when. Chuck, a short, pudgy kid who was probably the youngest in the group. He was probably twelve or thirteen years old, three years younger than Margaret. He was also the sweetest of the bunch. Chuck was kind enough to bring her a couple of sandwiches, an apple, and water after she sat by the tree for a few moments alone. Margaret had a fleeting thought that Chuck was the only friend she'd made in the Glade.

     She was wrong.

     There was Thomas. Margaret wasn't sure what to make of him, but he did seem to have an effect on her. He was the only one with whom she felt she could communicate, which surprised her. Why, out of all the boys, only him? What made him different from the others? It was as if a spark had ignited between them, and Margaret had no idea why.

     "You okay?"

     Margaret turned to her left to see Thomas standing nearby, staring at her.

     She shrugged as she turned to face the Gladers at work. "I don't know." Thomas took a seat next to Margaret.

     "I know. I've been through this before. It's. . . pretty scary. But eventually you'll get through it," Thomas said, sighing afterwards. Margaret was glad that he came to have a conversation with her when nobody else would. Even though she wanted to be alone, she wouldn't mind being alone with him.

     "How long, how long have you been living here?" Margaret asked.

      "I don't know. A day, maybe? It's really hard to tell what day or time it is here. But it feels like I've only been here for almost two days. So, not that long."