ASUNDER (I) : tmr newt

34: I'm Lacking

34 Dawn

They buried the boy at 1:00. I only know because I glanced down at Minho's watch while we sat at the table waiting for the Baggers to finish whatever it is those Freak-shows do with bodies. Minho couldn't speak.

He didn't speak when I found him last night. He had stormed out of the Map room at 2:00 when everyone was sleeping. He found me half-awake in the forest, but he didn't speak to me. Instead his mouth latched on to mine like a drowning man searching for oxygen. Like I was his only salvation.

When sunlight hit me this morning in the Deadheads, he didn't speak either. When he groaned I thought he was awake, but he still had sleep in his eyes. By that, I mean his eyes were closed. When he woke up, he put back on the pack he had taken off the night before, and left. Silently.

I wanted to reach out and take his hand, from where he sat. I was next to Frypan while Minho rested facing us on a log. I would have grabbed his hand too; shuck Alby's rules and shuck this Glade for keeping us apart. I didn't because I was worried if I tried he wouldn't hold me back.

This quiet is terrifying, and I don't know what I can do to stop it. Not from where I stand, looking at him across an empty grave. Some Bagger is filling it with dirt. All I can do is stare at Minho across the way. His eyes don't meet mine. Instead, they pour down into the grave below. At the body hidden by a layer of dirt.

Now I expect the quiet because of the funeral. Although, I don't think I expect him to be standing so sturdy. Minho is many things, but I didn't think he was cloudy eyes staring at dirty. Nor did I think he was shuffling awkwardly as Leo reaches her hand towards his pocket. She misses, although Minho barely takes notice. He seems like the kind for guy to demand what is going on. Although, I have only known him for ten days. That's isn't enough time to know a person. I don't even know myself.

I can't help but wonder what Leo is doing. When she looks away from him, she looks up at me. I don't move either, even though I feel as though I've been shot in the abdomen by her eyes. She has a way of looking at me the way I imagine a Mother does. In a way that makes me feel guilty for all that I've done.

That's how I know the shuffling I heard this morning wasn't my shoes scuffing against the roots on the dirt floor of the Deadheads. Leo saw us. Which for some reason means she needs to talk to us.

Or worse, someone else saw us. Maybe it's one of those Med-jacks. Leo eats all her meals with them, or she does it alone. Otherwise, I don't know who it would be who saw us. Perhaps Ella, although I don't know that she would say anything. Michelle and Leo haven't talked in days; since Michelle's near banishment anyway.

Does Leo have any friends?

The grave is full before I really even took notice that it was filling, and people are filtering away from the grave. I wait for Minho to leave, but I find Newt's hand on his shoulder instead. Alby moves in closer and the rest of the Runners circle in around the grave.

Right, they all knew this kid decently well. His name was Stephen, and I hadn't seen him before I saw his dead body.

Leo's eyes catch mine, and I know I am about to be scolded, so I move away from her. Ducking behind a group of Builders, I search for Fry-pan. She won't do anything suspicious if she is trying to talk to me discreetly. She will wait until I am alone.

"Things have been getting freaky lately." One of them remarks, and I only pay attention because his voice carries and everyone else is quiet.

"Haven't noticed."

"Course you haven't klunk-head." The boy continues, while his friend grumbles. "Since those girls it's been weird. First that girl sees a Griever in the maze in broad daylight and doesn't get mangled? Now Stephen's corpse is toss on our doorstep? Smells fishy."