WICKED is good

Chaptet 10: Subject A5

"Thanks, Mom," Thomas said, accepting the slice of cake she handed him over the counter. Every time he visited the bakery she gave him free food.
   "Yeah, thanks," Chuck agreed, taking his slice and shoving the whole thing his mouth.
   "Don't choke," Thomas warned, as they left the bakery.
   Chuck just grunted, chewing and chewing until he could finally swallow. He ate the whole slice in less than a minute.
   Thomas shook his head in shock. "That's incredible."
   "I know," Chuck beamed. "I was gonna say 'I try' but I really don't. It's easy for me."
   Thomas laughed. "You should be a comedian when you grow up."
   Chuck shrugged but Thomas could tell he was pleased with the compliment.
   After a few seconds of silence, Chuck spoke up. "You know what's confusing?"
   "Hmm?" Thomas asked, taking another bite of cake as they walked towards home.
"About WICKED," Chuck started. "You know how they're putting these Immunes through trials and klunk? To test their killzone."
"Yeah," Thomas agreed, confused. "To find out what makes us immune so they can find a cure. How is that confusing?"
"Because they don't put non Immunes through the trials." Chuck explained. "They need to do that to compare the differences."
Thomas was silent for a few moments. "You know what Chuck? You're one smart kid."
Chuck gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Tell me something I don't know."

Later that week, Thomas brought up the subject to Dr. Paige.
   She looked shocked. "Why of course we have control subjects, Thomas. They're the glue that keeps the whole program together. There's no way we could keep the Trials running without them."
   "You mean some of the kids aren't immune," Thomas started, "and you didn't tell me?"
   "I'm sorry," Dr. Paige said and she sounded sincere. "I figured you knew already."
   "Why does everyone always assume I know these things?" Thomas muttered to himself. Then louder, "which subjects aren't immune?" He silently prayed it wasn't Chuck. That kid deserved to be immune more than anyone.
   "A54, A26, A5, B12, and B45," Dr. Paige answered. She opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a tablet. She slid it over to Thomas. "You can check in there. It's under the file labeled 'Subjects'."
   Thomas thanked her, taking the device and walking out of the room. As soon as he shut the door, he ran into Teresa.
   "What's that?" Teresa asked, pointing to the tablet in Thomas' hands.
   "Information about the subjects," Thomas answered. "I wanna see who's immune and who's not."
   "Mind if I join you?"
   Thomas shook his head. "No, I don't mind. I was going to the study to look through it."
   "You wanna take a bet on who's not immune?" Teresa asked as they walked.
   "Why?" He wondered. "Who do you think it is?"
   "You first."
   Thomas shrugged. "I'm just hoping it's not Chuck."
   Teresa waved her hand. "I doubt it." She opened the door to the study. "Chuck was so young when he got his implants. WICKED wouldn't have done that if he wasn't immune."
   Thomas let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "That's good. Now, let's see who they really are."
   She pulled up a chair next to him. "What numbers did Dr. Paige give you?"
   Thomas repeated the numbers.
   "Oh, I know A26," Teresa said, taking the device and looking it up. "He's in my science class. His name is Winston." She showed him the screen, proving what she'd said.
   "Wait, what number am I?" Thomas asked, taking the screen from her as he read the names.
"A2," Teresa answered. "I'm A1."
"That is so not fair."
She laughed. "Come on. Let's look up the other numbers now."
   A54 was someone named Clint and B12 was (according to Teresa) Sonya's friend Miyoko.
   "Who's A5?" Thomas asked, pointing to the screen Teresa was holding.
   She scrolled until she found it. Her face melted into a frown.
   "Who is it?" Thomas asked, fear creeping into his voice. No no no. It's Chuck isn't it? Please don't let it be Chuck.
   "It's Newt," Teresa answered. She turned the screen towards him and Thomas saw it for himself.

A5: Newton

   Newt?
   Thomas couldn't believe it. He'd been so worried about Chuck, he forgot he had other friends to worry about. Guilt and fear built up in his chest. Why hadn't he bothered to think about Newt? How was Thomas going to tell him?
   "Do you wanna look at the other numbers or—" Teresa started.
   "No," Thomas cut her off, standing up. "I have to—I have to go." He started walking away before Teresa grabbed his hand, stopping him.
    "Tom, wait."
   He turned around, sadness evident in his eyes.
   "Just if it makes you feel better," she said, giving him a look of pity. "He's not sick. He doesn't have the Flare."
But he could catch it, is what Thomas thought to himself but just nodded instead.
   He left the compound, not really sure where he was going. He didn't even know how he felt. Newt was one of his best friends. Thomas couldn't stand it if he got the Flare. If he...
   Thomas refused to complete the thought.
   Eventually, he found himself at the park. He sat on one of the swings, kicking his legs lightly. As he was swinging, Thomas heard his phone ringing from his pocket. Newt was calling. Thomas put his phone down without answering it.
   "Who was that?" A voice asked above Thomas' head.
   He looked up to see Minho.
   Somehow, he managed to climb on top of the swing set. He was standing on the thin beam, walking back and forth.
   "How did you get up there?" Thomas asked. He also wondered how he didn't notice Minho in the first place.
   "I climbed, shuckface," Minho replied, sitting down on the beam and kicking his legs. "Did you think I flew or something?"
   "No. I just meant—"
   "And why do you look so sad?" Minho twisted his body until he was hanging upside down. He ruffled Thomas' hair just because he could then giggled. "Teresa dump you or something?"
   Thomas pushed Minho's hands away, standing up. He glared at his friend. Minho just smiled mischievously.
   "You know we aren't even together," Thomas pointed out, crossing his arms.
   Minho reached out and poked Thomas on the nose. "Then what's wrong?"
   Thomas sighed. He told him what he found out about Newt.
   Minho listened without saying anything, though that might've been because the blood was rushing to his head, making it hard to concentrate.
   When Thomas was done, all Minho said was, "and?"
   Thomas frowned, confused. "Newt could get infected with the Flare, which." He took a shaky breath. "Which could kill him, and you don't even care?"
   "Course I care," Minho said, standing up again. He tried to backflip off but ended up landing on his head. "Ow. Of course I care." He stood up. "Come on, Thomas. You of all people shouldn't be worried."
   "What do you mean?"
   "Jeez shank," Minho said, rolling his eyes. "You're so stupid sometimes. You designed this place to keep the Flare out, remember? As stupid as you are, I trust you and WICKED to keep the disease away. Newt'll be fine."
   Thomas sighed. "I guess you're right."
   Minho scoffed. "Well, duh,"
   "But how do I tell Newt?"
   "Hmm, let me think," Minho said, tapping his chin sarcastically. "You say 'hey Newt. I just found out you aren't Immune but that's okay because you're safe inside these walls. Wanna go get some ice cream and take Minho along?'"
   Thomas glared at him.
   "What?" Minho asked innocently. "I think you're making a big deal out of it. Here, I'll help." He took Thomas' phone from his hand and dialed Newt.
   "Hey!" Thomas protested, grabbing for his phone but Minho was too fast. He ran away then clambered on top of the monkey bars, out of Thomas' reach.
   "Hey, Newt," Minho said into the phone. "Hmm? O, yeah. He's fine. I just left my phone at home." Pause. Minho laughed. "Of course not."
   "Minho!" Thomas yelled desperately then lowered his voice. "You can't just tell him like that."
   Minho held up his pointer finger towards Thomas, telling him to wait. "He's fine, Newt. Jeez. Anyway, you wanna go get some ice cream with me and Thomas?" Another pause. "Okay, great. See you soon." Minho hung up. He tossed the phone down to Thomas.
"We're getting ice cream," Minho announced, jumping down. "Whether you like it or not." He started pushing Thomas in the direction of the ice cream parlor.
Thomas sighed. "I hate you."
   "You're welcome."

Thankfully, Minho was nice to pay for the ice cream, though Thomas had a suspicion that he stole his wallet before hand. Either way, the three got their desert and sat at a booth together.
They ate in silence, Minho on one side of the table and Newt an Thomas on the other. Thomas avoided eye contact as he picked at his food. He was too nervous about telling Newt. Minho, on the other hand, was snarfing his down so fast Thomas wondered if he was even breathing. Newt kept glancing back and forth between Minho and Thomas. He tried to keep a conversation boring but Minho was too busy eating and Thomas would only hum an answer.
"Alright, I can't stand it anymore," Newt said, pushing his half eaten ice cream away from him. "What are you two hiding from me?"
"Uh," Thomas looked at Minho who had ice cream all over his face.
Apparently, Minho took this as his cue to go. "I have to go to the bathroom," he said, leaving before Thomas or Newt could stop him.
Newt rolled his eyes at Minho before turning back to Thomas. "Well?"
"Um," Thomas started. "Well, uh, I went to Dr. Paige and, um," he stuttered. "I mean, I was talking to Chuck when, um."
Newt sighed. "Tommy, look at me."
Thomas looked up to see Newt staring at him exasperatedly.
"Just spit it out," he said.
Thomas took a deep breath. "You aren't Immune."
Newt gave him a look, as if he thought Thomas was playing some sort of joke, before the Look melted into surprise. "Really?" He didn't sound mad or scared, just confused.
Thomas nodded glumly, looking down at the table again. "I just found out today. I would've told you sooner, if I knew." He sighed. "But I didn't."
"That's what's been bothering you?" Newt asked.
Thomas stared at him, surprised by how calm Newt was acting. "Yeah?"
"Well, don't let it bother you anymore," Newt said. "I'm not worried about the buggin' Flare, man. As long as I'm in these walls, I'll be fine."
Thomas felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "So you're okay then? About not being immune?"
Newt nodded. "I always suspected anyway. When, uh, when my parents died." He recapped the story to Thomas. "We were special, I knew that much. WICKED didn't send a private Berg to just anybody. And when I ran back to try helping my parents, they held Lizzy back but let me go, as if I wasn't as important."
   Thomas didn't know what to say. The worst part was that Newt talked about his parents death so nonchalantly. It was as if the whole point of the story was about him not being Immune, not about Newt loosing his parents and feeling responsible for it.
   Minho came back before Thomas could figure out what to say. He slid into his seat. "So is everything good?"
   Newt shrugged. "Yeah, everything's fine. I'm not immune. No big deal." He stood. "I should get home now. I need to tell Sonya." He left the parlor with Minho eating the rest of Newt's ice cream.
   Thomas glanced at Minho before getting up and following Newt. He needed to say something. He didn't know what but he couldn't just leave it at that.
   "Newt, wait!" Thomas yelled, running to catch up with his friend.
   Newt stopped and waited for Thomas to catch up. "Need something?" He asked, continuing to walk again.
   "No, it's just." Thomas shook his head. "About your parents. I—"
   "Save it, Tommy," Newt suddenly snapped. "I didn't tell you because I wanted pity. I just didn't want you to worry about me not being immune."
   "But—"
   Newt stopped and faced Thomas. "Look. Nothing is going to change the fact that they're gone. Nothing you say is going to make me feel better about getting them killed." His voice broke at the end.
   Thomas didn't know what to say. "Newt I..." he stopped. Newt was right. There was nothing Thomas could say to make him feel better. So he just pulled his friend into a hug.
After a few seconds, Thomas felt wetness on his shoulder and realized Newt was crying. He wanted to give his friend reassuring words but everything he came up with sounded hallow.
   Suddenly, someone (Thomas had a pretty good guess who) came up from behind and squeezed him and Newt together, squishing them into a group hug.
   "Can't...breathe!" Thomas squeaked out.
   Minho let go and cane around into view. "I wanted to join."
   "Yeah, we could tell," Newt said, wiping the tears from his eyes.
   Minho smiled, putting an arm around Newt's shoulders and his other one around Thomas. "Okay, here are our plans for the rest of the day: make Newt happy. Any objections?"
   "But I need to—" Newt started before Minho cut him off.
   "That wasn't an actual question," Minho said. "We're going to make you happy. Whether you like or not."
   Newt rolled his eyes but he was grinning slightly. "I hate you."
   "You're welcome."