The Glader

The Impossible Girl

"Alby!" I yelled, running to him, ignoring how much ash I was currently breathing. "Minho, get me a rag!"

Minho snatched up the rag I'd been putting on my own head while I pulled Alby flat onto the floor, telling him it would be alright and shooing out Winston and a couple of other Gladers who had apparently put out the fire, far too late.

Alby's head was bleeding. He had gotten his forehead slammed against the table. No. This can't be happening. Not to Alby.

Finally, Thomas came in. I was too focused on Alby to berate him for running off, so I left that to Minho.

Alby needed me.

"You'll be fine," I whispered to him, even though I wasn't sure if he could hear me.

He had gone through way too much in the Glade. We all had. Alby couldn't be more than seventeen- he should have been in high school, not fighting for his life. He should have been hanging out with his friends, not watching them die around him. Not being almost burned to death, stung, left for dead....

"Newt!" Minho called, snapping me out of my wistful imaginings of a normal life.

"Yeah?" I refolded the rag I was holding to try to find a spot that wasn't saturated with blood.

Minho pointed at Alby. "Let the Med-jacks take care of him. We need to talk."

I opened my mouth to protest, then sighed, handing my rag off to Jackson, who looked surprised, but didn't argue as I said, "Go find Clint- tell him we got worse problems than guys with buggin' splinters." Then I turned to Minho and Tommy. "Talk about what?"

"Come with me," the Greenie said, not elaborating, turning and walking out the door.

I sighed when I realized we were going to the slammer. Thomas had pulled me away from Alby for the girl? Seriously?

When we got to the Slammer, the first thing Tommy said was, "Let her out," while he leaned against the door stubbornly. "Let her out, and then we'll talk. Trust me- you wanna hear it."

This was ridiculous. The Glade was a wreck, Alby was hurt, and I was covered in cinders, dirt and blood, and we had only one day to prepare for yet another attack, and this was what Thomas wanted to talk about? "Tommy, this is-"

He interrupted me. "Please. Just open it- let her out. Please."

"How can she trust her? Soon as she woke up, the whole place fell to pieces. She even admitted she triggered something." Minho put his hands on his hips, sounding resigned.

"He's got a point," I said. I was in no mood for this. Alby could be bleeding out, and here I was, listening to this drivel.

Tommy gestured to the door. "We can trust her. Every time I've talked to her, it's something about trying to get us out of here. She was sent here just like the rest of us- it's stupid to think she's responsible for any of this."

"Then what the bloody shuck did she mean by sayin' she triggered something?"

"Who knows," Thomas said, shrugging, "Her mind was doing all sorts of weird stuff when she woke up. Maybe we all went through that in the Box, talking gibberish before we came totally awake. Just let her out."

I glanced at Minho. Tommy did have a point, but letting the girl out, after everything, just seemed wrong. If her Ending got us all killed...

"Come on," Tommy said, sounding pleading, "What's she gonna do, run around and stab every Glader to death? Come on."

"Fine," Minho rolled his eyes, "Just let the stupid girl out."

Suddenly, a muffled voice came from inside the Slammer, making me jump, "I'm not stupid! I can hear every word you morons are saying!"

"Real sweet girl you picked up, Tommy," I said sarcastically. I was fine with girls, just not ones that apparently disliked me and triggered endings that nearly get everyone killed.

"Just hurry," Thomas said, "I'm sure we have a lot to do before the Grievers come back tonight- if they don't come back during the day."

I finally decided that letting her out now would be better than having Tommy follow me around all day begging. I unlocked the door.

Teresa stalked out, her head held high, giving me a dark glare as she passed me, and she went to stand next to Thomas. As I watched, his face got progressively redder. The lovesick shank.

"All right, talk. What's so important?" Minho said, crossing his arms.

Thomas looked at the girl, apparently mute now.

"What?" she said at his glance, "You talk- they obviously think I'm a serial killer."

Hold a buggin' grudge much? I wanted to say, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Yeah, you look so dangerous," Thomas said sarcastically, "Okay, when Teresa was first coming out of her deep sleep, she had memories flashing through her mind. She, um..." he stuttered to a halt, his face flaming brighter, then said, "She told me later that she remembers the Maze is a code. That maybe instead of solving it to find a way out, it's trying to send us a message. Like a Code."

I frowned.

A Code? What the heck does that mean?